To Walk In Night
by Nili
Summary: Just before Aragorn should travel back to Rivendell, a Mirkwood patrol is attacked and Legolas captured. When Aragorn finally finds him and his captors, both come to realise that a dark force is stirring in Rhûn that might destroy all they hold dear.
1. Glad Tidings

**A/N:  
  
Hi guys!  
  
First: I'm really sorry this is so late, but - surprise, surprise - it wasn't my fault. I _wanted_ to post a week ago, but I have had a little ... trouble with my internet connection. I have been unable to go online for *counts and shrieks* 13 days now! I have stopped being angry a long time ago and am positively fuming right now, which didn't impress the telephone company in the slightest, I'm afraid.** **I've even told them that I am going to sic an elf and a ranger on them, but they didn't believe me - bad for them, I guess... *g***  
  
**Well, once again, sorry, but be assured that I suffered more than you, not to mention my family who had to put up with several rather interesting withdrawal symptoms on my part. *g*   
  
Okay, whatever, here's my third (hmm, technically, my forth) story, all ready - at least the first five chapters *g* - and waiting for you! It's a sequel to "The Heart of Men", and this time it will probably be really easier to understand if you've read that story, even though I don't think it is absolutely necessary since I try to explain everything as I go along.   
  
I hope you have lots of fun reading it!  
Oh, and thanks a lot for all the great reviews for ch. 26 of "The Heart of Men", which were wonderful and really encouraged me to keep writing. A huge thanks also to all the people who've sent me emails telling me to "start posting already, woman!". All of them definitely helped getting this story out as fast as possible - which, admittedly - wasn't very fast in this case. *g* Thanks so much! *huggles all readers*  
  
I really enjoy ranting far too much, so enough of it and on to the story!**  
  
  
  
  


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**To Walk In Night**  
  
  
  
  
**By: **Nili  
  
  
  
**Rating:** PG-13, which really shouldn't surprise anyone by now, right?  
  
  
  
**Spoilers:** Hmm, evil question. This is the sequel to my story "The Heart of Men", which in turn is the sequel to my first story "An Eye For An Eye". This time, however, I believe that it's easier for everyone involved to have read "The Heart of Men" since there are lots of spoilers for it in this story, even though I do my best to explain everything important as I go along so I think it's not really necessary. There are also some tiny spoilers for "The Hobbit" and "The Return of the King", though most people probably won't even notice.  
  
  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in Middle-Earth, every recognisable character, setting, place and so on belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs. The rest (places, demon-horses, characters - especially Celylith, ladies, so hands off! *g*) belongs to me, and I guard everything rather fiercely, so consider yourselves warned. I do not have permission to use any of the above, but I do so anyway. Evil, hmm? And yes, this story was written just for fun, and I _certainly _will receive no money for it, which would be a great way to earn my living on second thought, though. Please do not use any of my original characters without asking me first. Thanks a lot.  
  
  
  
**Summary: **A few days before Aragorn is supposed to leave Mirkwood to travel back to Rivendell with Elladan and Elrohir, a patrol is attacked and Legolas captured. No-one seems to know why or where he and his attackers have disappeared to, and so Aragorn must track those responsible before it is too late to save him. When the young ranger does find his friend and his captors though, both he and the elven prince realise that this time, they may be well in over their heads and that a dark force is stirring in Rhûn that may bring destruction to all of Wilderland.  
**  
  
  
Series: **Gosh, now that you mention it, this is turning indeed into something of a series. I definitely won't give it a name, but it looks a bit like one, you're right... Okay, as I said, this is my third story, after **"An Eye For An Eye" **and **"The Heart of Men"**, and it's taking place about four weeks after the latter.  
  
  
  
**Additonal notes:** I have decided to follow Cassia and Sio's lead and pretend that Gilraen was killed with Arathorn, and it's not because I don't like her, no. It's just that I have started this way because it was easiest since I think her to be hard to integrate into Rivendell-life, and now that I feel confident enough to have a go at writing her, it's too late. *g* I hope you - and her - will forgive me for this not so little detail.  
  
Some people have told me that my whole concept is an **AU**, and I think they are correct, in a way. I totally ignore the fact that Aragorn's supposed to have met Arwen just after he had been told of his heritage, and I am aware of the fact that I am not Tolkien, and therefore do not even begin to sound like him, something that can only be commented with "Duh!" in my opinion. I could never write as well as he does, so well, you will have to bear with me.  


A small note about the Elvish (Sindarin and Quenya) used in this story: I have lately started to really look into both languages, and am now deeply ashamed of the "Elvish" I used in my first and partly also in my second story. So, for example, this is the first story in which I use "mellon nín" instead of "mellonamin". There is another version, "mellon nîn", which is also correct as far as I know, but my dictionaries consistently state that the possessive pronoun only has a simple accent, so I chose this one. *shrugs* I guess you can use both.  
  
And last but not least: Most of you will know that English is not my first language, and not even my second now that I think about it. *g* So please, tell me when you find a blatant and horrible mistake somewhere - and you will, trust me. Pointing them out to me doesn't bother me at all and really helps to improve my English. Thank you!  
  
  
  


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Chapter 1  
  
  
Dawn was slowly laying her pale tendrils over the heavens, and the sun's first, tentative rays were already beginning to show on the mountains in and at which Mirkwood's palace was built. It was by no means a glorious morning; the sky was overcast and grey, and the promise of yet more snow lay heavily on the still sleeping lands.  
  
Still, it was the most beautiful morning that Thranduil Oropherion, King of Mirkwood, had seen in a very long time, and so it came that he even broke into a little song while he was trying to decide which robe he should wear today.  
  
No, to him it did not matter whether it snowed or rained, whether the sun was shining or whether it fell out of the sky, today was a _beautiful _day, and nothing could possibly happen that would be able to change that. A small voice in the blonde elf's head hissed a warning at that presumptuous thought. Was such a statement not an invitation to the Valar to teach him that something could always happen to turn this day into the worst he had ever seen?  
  
Thranduil frowned while he fastened the many ties of the sky-blue robes he had finally chosen. Alright, so it was _highly unlikely _that something would happen that changed the fact that today was a beautiful day; that would do and was still close enough to what he wanted to say.  
  
He put the thought of whether or how the Valar could already be planning his downfall firmly out of his head and placed on the same a beautiful, silver circlet that was wrought so that it resembled the wreath of leaves he wore when the seasons permitted it. It was his very favourite tiara, and it would be more than befitting if he wore it today because today was, after all, a beautiful day. And nothing would – probably, he hastily injected - be able to change that.  
  
A rather cynic inward voice commented wryly that it was not a good sign that he kept repeating these words so fervently and probably yet another invitation for something to go horribly wrong, but Thranduil ignored it and firmly clung to his bright mood that was already bordering on downright cheerful. In fact, he was beginning to remind himself of Glorfindel, Lord Elrond's blonde advisor, and _that _wasn't a good thing. He would personally shoot himself before he started displaying such an overflowing, all-defining cheerfulness that only got himself and others into trouble – a behaviour most unbefitting a king in his opinion.  
  
No, Thranduil decided, he might not be as boundlessly cheery as Glorfindel, but this was as cheery as he got, and he had good reason for it. Valar, he did indeed have good reason for it, he smirked, reaching for the piece of parchment that lay on the small table next to a beautifully carved chest of drawers. The paper had obviously been of good quality once, and the tengwar letters still shone crisp and black on the yellowish underground. Now, however, it was slightly crinkled, and it had apparently been folded and unfolded some times since it had been written.  
  
The King of Mirkwood once again took the time to read the part of the message right under the red stain that ran from the edge of the paper nearly to the very centre, neatly dividing the sheet in half. Under normal circumstances the golden haired elf would have frowned upon the scarlet stain as if reprimanding it for daring to appear on one of his messages – if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was untidiness – but today he didn't care in the slightest. Besides, since he himself had produced this stain by pouring a glass of wine over the letter – an action to be accredited to sudden shock – he really had no-one else but himself to blame; and in addition to that it rather helped him find his favourite part, so he wasn't complaining.  
  
Feeling how the feelings of happiness and pleasant anticipation once again took hold of his entire being, the elven king slid the piece of paper into one of his pockets and gave the looking glass above the chest of drawers one last look. Yes, his appearance was satisfactory, he decided and quickly walked over to the large double door that led to the small study which was adjoining these chamber, and with a large smile on his lips he threw the doors open.  
  
As he had expected, Galion was waiting for him with the breakfast, a habit he had taken to only recently. About three weeks ago his son and various other young elves or rather visiting rangers had almost managed to set their table in the Great Hall on fire where he was usually having breakfast with the rest of his court, and since then Thranduil's desire to greet the new day in the company of his son and heir had miraculously diminished.  
  
The king's butler eyed his liege somewhat warily, a small smile on his lips.  
"Good morning, my lord! Everything is prepared and waiting for you."  
  
Thranduil returned the other elf's smile with one of his own, a smile that turned out to be much more radiant than the rising sun.  
"Thank you very much, Galion. Where would this kingdom be without you?"  
  
Galion stared at his liege as if he had just sprouted a second head and rotated both of them around their own axes. His smile faded a little, and when he had made sure that everything was to his king's liking he soundlessly retreated from where Thranduil had sat down at a small table in front of one of the huge picture windows to the doors, still close enough to be at hand if the other elf needed something, but putting enough distance between them to let the other have his breakfast in peace and private.  
  
The butler sat down on a chair and inconspicuously began to watch the King of Mirkwood. To have his liege awake in a good mood was very rare of late, and to have him smile at you as radiantly as that was, well, very close to unheard of. Not that he blamed him, Galion decided thoughtfully, on the contrary, his respect for his king had reached new dimensions.  
  
It had been a little more than four weeks now since Prince Legolas, Captain Celylith and young Estel had returned from Dale, and, as had been expected by many, they had returned in several pieces, so to speak. Galion was still not sure what exactly had happened, and how his prince and his companions had managed to get themselves almost killed on what had been supposed to be a simple visit to Lake-town – and from what he had heard, repeatedly – but to say that the three of them had not been well when they had made their way through the palace gates would be the understatement of the decade.  
  
Prince Legolas had sported several rather gruesome injuries including a very badly broken arm that was still not back to its full strength, something that Galion knew bothered the younger elf immensely. The prince would of course never complain about the lack of strength and mobility in his left arm, but to everyone who knew him it was clear that he was afraid that it might never heal properly. Captain Celylith had apparently been hit by an arrow and had needed another week to fully recuperate, and Lord Elrond's foster son had had to spend several days in the healing wing to be able to walk on his own again without collapsing after a few feet. Galion had never taken the time to learn the list of the young ranger's injuries by heart; all he knew was that they had been numerous, and while they hadn't been life-threatening, it had taken the man most of these past four weeks to get back on his feet.  
  
Well, to make it short, Hithrawyn, the master healer, had _not _been happy to see them. After the four days Estel had needed to stay in the healing wing and during which he had tried to escape an impressive seventeen times Galion knew for a fact that the healer had begged the king to release him from his service and let him journey to the Grey Havens. Hithrawyn hadn't been entirely serious, of course, and after a few hours King Thranduil had been able to convince the other elf to stay, pointing out that the ranger had been released and would trouble the healers no more. Galion had even then not been so sure if that had truly been such a good idea, for Prince Legolas and his friends managed to find trouble even at home.  
  
As far as he knew, they had needed to visit the healers at least four times in the four weeks that had passed since then, and the butler was sure that Hithrawyn would truly do something drastic if he ever saw one of them again. The last time the prince and his two friends had got into trouble and had to seek the healers' assistance the master healer had almost refused to examine them, claiming that they brought bad luck to everyone who touched them, and a guard who had been treated at the same time for a minor injury suffered during a training bout had told everyone who had to listen that Hithrawyn had been very close to actually strangling the heir to the throne of Mirkwood. And, judging from the expression on Hithrawyn's face whenever one of the three young ones was mentioned, he was more than willing to actually do it the next time he got the chance.  
  
All in all, Galion would have been more than sympathetic had his king thrown the prince and Lord Celylith into the dungeons and sent the ranger back to Rivendell where he belonged, no matter the weather. That Thranduil hadn't done that was either a sign of extreme tolerance coupled with the understanding that Lord Elrond would not be happy to have his human son freeze to death in the Misty Mountains or a sign of a mental illness in an advanced stage.  
  
He really hoped the first was the case, Galion thought, watching the inexplicably merry figure of his liege. The king might not have incarcerated one or more of the young ones – something that about every member of Mirkwood's court would have understood, by the way – but it was common knowledge that he was not in a good mood as a rule – another thing that about every member of Mirkwood's court understood.   
  
And with that he was back at the beginning of his musings: Why was his liege behaving so peculiarly … cheerfully today?   
  
Galion knew for sure that today was the day Prince Legolas and his friends were leaving for a short hunting trip with some other younger elves and were planning to return tomorrow, something that should have been yet another reason for King Thranduil to be in a bad mood. "Hunting trip" was merely a different and euphemistic term for "disaster" when referring to the fair haired prince's enterprises, and when said enterprises not only included Prince Legolas, but also Captain Celylith and – Valar forbid – Estel, it was popular belief that it was to be equated with "catastrophe".  
  
So, the elf pondered, why was Thranduil looking so happy?   
  
The elven king was still projecting an air of happiness and quiet anticipation when Galion returned to his lord's table to make sure that everything was satisfactory, and so he decided to take advantage of the other's obviously splendid mood.  
"Forgive my curiosity, sire, but would you allow me the question of why you are so … merry today?"  
  
Thranduil turned in his chair and arched a golden eyebrow in amusement, a slightly wicked sparkle in his bright blue eyes.  
"Why, my good Galion, do you mean to suggest that I have been ill-humoured of late?"  
  
To his horror, Galion felt himself blush like a young lad, something he hadn't done in a very, very long time.  
"No, my lord, of course not. I did not mean to…"  
  
The elven king's smile merely broadened, and he clapped the other elf on the back, an action that nearly caused his butler's jaw to drop right onto his chest. Was this really his king or some kind of apparition? While Galion was still contemplating if he should perhaps pinch himself – or the king as a last resort – to ascertain whether this was merely a dream or something similar, Thranduil reached out and drew a chair up to the table, motioning the other elf to sit. When the butler gave no sign of obeying his unvoiced request and only stared at him with slightly unbelieving eyes, the King of Mirkwood placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him into the seat.  
  
"So you have been wondering what has put me into such a good mood, yes?" he asked jovially, still smiling brightly.   
  
Galion nodded and, after some failed tries, even found his voice.  
"Yes … sire, if that is not too … presumptuous on my part, of course. All know how … stressful these past four weeks have been for you."  
  
A shadow seemed to fall over Thranduil's face as he remembered something, probably one of his son's little "adventures" of the past month. Galion didn't know which one – and he didn't want to, either – but it seemed to be one of the more memorable ones.   
  
"You have no idea," Thranduil muttered darkly, eyes narrowing slightly.  
  
For a moment, Galion feared he might have caused his liege to fall back into the dark moods he had been suffering lately, but to his relief the golden haired elf's face brightened again after a few seconds, and he reached into one of his pocket and withdrew a crinkled, and, from the looks of it, stained piece of parchment.  
  
The King of Mirkwood began to smile again, his long fingers stroking over the paper in an oddly gentle fashion.  
"As you said, Galion, the last month has been … stressful." Thranduil looked very much as if he would have liked to use a much stronger term. "But you are right, my mood is much improved, and the reason for it is right in front of your eyes."  
  
Galion stared at his liege, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of what the other elf had just said. For a moment he contemplated if he had been wrong and his king was suffering from a terrible mental illness after all – there were more than enough indications for that – but then he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.   
  
"A … letter, my lord?" he questioned softly, eyeing the king for any signs of discomfort. He didn't know much about mental illnesses, but he had heard that some were accompanied by the strangest symptoms…  
  
Thranduil's smile grew even brighter, and he beamed at his butler as if he were a child that had just understood a very important thing.  
  
"A letter, aye! But still, it is no ordinary letter, dear Galion!" He looked at the other elf as if he was sharing a big secret with him. "It arrived yesterday, and it is no ordinary letter since…" Here the king injected a small, dramatic pause, something entirely unusual for him. "Since this is a letter from Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris, my esteemed friend and ally who also happens to be the father of a young human named Estel who is – with the help of my son and his friends, admittedly – driving my master healer and myself to the brink of madness!"  
  
The king's voice had risen when he had spoken the last words, and Galion unconsciously looked over his shoulder to make sure that no-one else had overheard the blonde elf's small outburst. Thranduil seemed to have realised the sudden increase in volume as well, for he sat back a little in his chair in an obvious effort to relax.  
  
"But perhaps," Thranduil continued, "you would benefit from reading it yourself."  
  
He pushed the paper into the other elf's direction, avoiding his plate and a pot of honey on the way, but instead of reaching for the message, Galion looked at his king with appalled eyes.   
"My lord!" he cried, looking scandalised at the mere thought. "I couldn't!"  
  
Reading his liege's mail was not something he had ever contemplated, and a private letter at that – no, this was too much.  
  
The elven king merely looked at him with that elegantly arched eyebrow, a look of mild exasperation on his face.   
"You have my permission to do so, Galion," he said patiently, yet there was a slightly annoyed undertone in his voice. "I do not wish to read the letter aloud, so you will have to do it yourself! Besides, you can start here, in the middle."  
  
Galion looked at the face of his liege, and after a second he decided to comply, and be it only to keep the other from getting ill-tempered again. To serve a king who was in too bad a temper to even properly acknowledge his surroundings was not something he wanted to repeat in the near future.  
  
He inclined his head in silent acquiescence and redirected his gaze to the sheet of paper the king had unfolded by now, one of his fingers tapping lightly on the start of one sentence somewhere in the middle of the letter to indicate where Galion should start reading. King Thranduil's butler only needed to give the script a short look to see that it had been written by Lord Elrond himself. The half-elven lord always drew every single letter precisely, as if a rushed message would somehow lessen the importance of what he had to say and would insult the letters themselves, and even the smaller tehtar symbols were placed neatly and orderly above the tengwar letters.  
  
Galion noticed that the king's fingers were beginning to drum impatiently now, and he blinked quickly to focus on the letter. The sentence started just under the large red stain that looked – and smelled – suspiciously like red wine, Dorwinion to be exact. What a shame, he thought, such an excellent wine wasted like this…  
  
The drumming of Thranduil's fingers quickened, and he quickly began to read, his eyes moving effortlessly over the flowing script.  
  
  
_"… But that is yet another matter, my friend. Now I come to what is in fact the reason for this letter, other than asking you to threaten my son with the most horrible things should he ever dare to leave your palace again. My heart is glad to hear that he and your son have recovered from their wounds, and yet I must admit that I am very much looking forward to seeing him again, and be it only to impress upon him the foolishness of his actions!  
  
This is the point though where I have to thank you for your kindness and generosity. It was truly a noble thing to let Estel stay with you for most of the winter season, even though it seems that they find at least as much trouble in Mirkwood as they do here. I am also relieved to hear that Master Hithrawyn will not be leaving for the Havens yet; it would be a shame to lose such a gifted physician to Valinor so early.   
  
The real reason for this letter is something else, though: As you well know, my lord, have the winter storms been not as fierce as we had first feared, even though the season has been cold enough here and, from what I hear, east of the mountains as well. Fact is that the passes are passable, even if only for the firstborn yet. Goblins should be less of a problem now, since they tend to hide in their holes at these temperatures and don't dare stray from them too far.  
  
All these things have enticed my sons to insist upon leaving to get their brother, and I am unable to stop them anymore. Ever since your letter arrived describing what had happened to Estel and your son they have been keen to go, insisting that they have to save you from further trouble – and to beat some sense into him, I think. They refuse to admit it, but they are afraid for him and feel the fragility of his mortal life all too keenly, and to put their minds at ease I have allowed them to go and escort him back home to us.  
  
They are leaving with a small escort as I write this letter, and while under normal circumstances I wouldn't have seen it necessary to inform you of their impending arrival so early, I had the distinct feeling that you would want to know. Besides, you might also want to warn your master healer that they are coming so he can prepare himself for their stay, short as it is supposed to be.  
  
They should be arriving in nine to eleven days after you receive this letter, and I would of course be very thankful if you sent out search parties should they not get to Mirkwood in time. I don't think that I have to describe to you how much trouble they can get into, especially when they are in the same area as your son or my youngest…"  
_  
  
At this point Lord Elrond started writing about something else, and Galion abandoned his reading and looked up into the brightly shining eyes of his liege. Now he could actually see why the king's mood was so greatly improved, but he wasn't sure if the other had grasped the full implications of what was to come yet.  
  
"The Lords Elladan and Elrohir are coming to visit," he stated cautiously, looking closely if the golden haired elf had really understood what this letter meant.  
  
"Oh, no, Galion," Thranduil protested and waggled a finger in front of his face, making Galion resist the sudden urge to follow its movements with his eyes, "They are not coming to visit. They are coming to 'escort Estel back'. To 'get him'. They won't be staying long, believe me."  
  
Galion pondered for a moment if he should tell his king that it was not a very good sign that he had apparently learnt this letter by heart, and then decided against it. He was right after all, this was extraordinarily good news. It wasn't that he didn't like the young ranger, quite on the contrary in fact, but he really did not enjoy having to watch him, Prince Legolas and various other elves that happened to come too close to them drag themselves back to the palace to get patched up. Captain Celylith seemed to be doing a lot of that as well lately, and his father was not happy about it either, that much he was certain of…  
  
"No," the king continued, shaking his head. Galion's presence was forgotten for the moment, it appeared. "The twins will only come and collect the ranger. I will lock all of them in their rooms until they want to leave again, and then I will keep Legolas in the dungeons until they have left my realm. And _then _I will lean back and enjoy the peace and tranquillity that will follow, and by the Valar, I will think of a way to pay Elrond back for this. No grateful letter of thanks is enough for what I have gone through. I think," the fair haired king added as an afterthought, looking at his butler with bright, wickedly gleaming eyes, "I will not keep Legolas here after all. I think I will let him accompany the three of them, and he can stay with them for the summer. And for the winter as well, what about that?"  
  
The other elf looked at his king with wide eyes. All that was missing now was an evil cackle and King Thranduil rubbing his hands together in glee, and one would be looking at the perfect picture of malicious scheming and revenge. Galion swallowed quickly, trying not to let his mounting anxiety show. All this was apparently proving to be too much for the king.  
"Is that not a bit … harsh, my lord?"  
  
"No," Thranduil retorted, his eyes still gleaming in a way that could only be described as unhealthy. "Not at all. I have aged a few centuries in the last four and a half weeks! It is nowhere near harsh. It would be harsh to allow Legolas to stay for a few years."   
  
He seemed to seriously contemplate that for a moment, but then he frowned, obviously having come to an unfavourable decision.  
"But no, I truly think that it would be Lord Elrond who would be journeying to Mithlond then, not Hithrawyn, and loath as I may be to admit that, I don't think that Arda is ready for that yet. Besides, we need the Elves of Rivendell as allies, not as enemies, and I do not think that the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood would look favourably on us if my son drove their son-in-law to the Havens either."  
  
Galion had to admit that that was a rather sound reasoning, and so he nodded his head and slowly pushed the now folded letter back over the table into the direction of his king.  
"I imagine you want to keep this, sire."  
  
"Oh yes," Thranduil nodded and quickly took up the letter, looking at it with almost tender eyes. "Only nine or ten more days, Galion, then they will arrive and peace will once again return to us. I only have to keep them from getting themselves killed for a little more than a week! That should be doable, don't you think?"  
  
His butler bowed slightly and rose from his seat, careful not to let his liege see the expression on his face.  
"One would think so, your Majesty. Shall I find the prince and Estel so you can let them know that Lord Elrond's sons will be arriving within a fortnight?"  
  
"Yes, please," Thranduil nodded and put the precious letter back into his pocket. "Thank you, Galion."  
  
The other elf bowed again and soundlessly retreated, leaving his king to the remnants of his breakfast. He gave the still broadly grinning blonde elf a last look before he quietly opened the doors that led to the corridor and slid out, closing the great wooden doors quickly behind him. He began to wander down the corridor, his mind already on his task and trying to figure out where he could find his prince at this time of day.  
  
Galion gave the guards who were posted a few dozen feet down the hallway a small smile and disappeared round a corner, suddenly snorting softly when he remembered his liege's last question. Keeping the young ones from getting themselves killed was doable, yes, but not very probable in his opinion.  
  
If he had learned one thing lately, it was that nine or ten days could be an incredibly long amount of time.  
  
  
  
  
An hour later, two rather bemused beings closed the door to the king's study, standing in front of it for a moment as they looked at each other in mild confusion.  
  
Both of them were tall, but while the one had broader shoulders that promised to become even more so when his body further developed, the other was lithe and slender, his movements graceful and light. He had long fair hair that surrounded his head like a halo of blonde tresses in the weak sunlight, and was thus the complete opposite of his companion, whose hair was dark and unruly and reached just a little over his shoulders.  
  
Right now, both of them wore identical expressions of mystification that made them look very much alike even despite their obvious differences, up to the point where it was almost laughable.  
  
"Well," the fair haired elf said, wrinkling his brow slightly, "That was … interesting."  
  
His human companion merely snorted, shaking his dark head.  
"'Interesting' is not necessarily the term I would use, my friend." He paused a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Was it only me or was your father acting rather … insane?"  
  
"Strider!" the elf exclaimed, looking at the other in mock horror. "This is my father we are talking about, my liege and the King of Mirkwood! He is not acting 'insane'!"  
  
The man produced a low sound of disbelief in his throat as they both began to walk down the corridor, doing their best to ignore the amused glances the guards shot them.  
"Then, o Prince of Mirkwood, could you please explain to me why he cackled when he told us that my brothers would be arriving and leaving with me in ten days?"  
  
"My father did not cackle," Legolas shook his head vehemently. "He might have snickered a little, yes, but…"  
  
"Right," Aragorn interrupted his friend, eyebrows arched high in a gesture that clearly stated that he didn't believe a single word his friend had said. "I do know the difference between cackling and snickering, you know, but very well. But do tell me, _mellon nín_, why he kept grinning like a cat that had just caught the biggest and juiciest mouse of its life? Grinning as if he were, hmm, let's say, insane?"  
  
"Well," Legolas began, giving the human a rather unconvincing smile, "Perhaps he was happy that he would be seeing your brothers?"  
  
Aragorn's eyebrows moved even further up his forehead, something the elven prince had thought impossible.  
"Happy? To see Elladan and Elrohir? That would be truly insane, Legolas."  
  
"Uhm," Legolas merely made, trying hard to think of something more convincing to say.  
  
"Exactly," Aragorn grinned, giving his friend a sly look, "And can you explain to me why he kept petting my father's message and almost bit my head off when I wanted to touch it?"  
  
Legolas shook his head, beginning to grin as well now.  
"Alright," he caved in, "You are correct. He was behaving the tiniest bit … strange today."  
  
"Insane," Aragorn commented. "Not strange. You know," he began, his grin even widening, "I nearly got the impression that he was happy to get rid of me so soon."  
  
"No!" the elf exclaimed and grasped his friend's arm as he stopped his walk abruptly. The elven couple that walked behind them merely gave them a mildly annoyed look and walked around them, obviously more than accustomed to the friends' strange behaviour.   
  
Legolas stared at Aragorn with eyes wide in mock shock, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.   
"How did you get _that _idea?"  
  
"Hmm," the man began, carefully dislodging the grip his elven friend had on his arm, "It might have been the fact that he kept whispering 'Only nine more days, only nine more days, only nine more days' or that he asked if I didn't want to start packing yet." Aragorn paused shortly, grey eyes sparkling wickedly. "Three times, I might add."  
  
"Two," Legolas shot back, trying to lead the conversation away from the former topic.  
  
Aragorn shook his head as they began to walk into the direction of the kitchens, a route they both knew only too well much to the dismay of the kitchen staff.   
"Three."  
  
"Two."  
  
"Three."  
  
"Two!"  
  
"Three!"  
  
"Four," a wry voice interjected.  
  
"Two …what?" Legolas spluttered, thrown off topic by the unexpected interruption. He looked sharply at his human friend, but Aragorn merely shrugged and grinned at someone behind him, and with a sigh the elven prince finally turned, already suspecting whom he would see.  
  
"You do not even know what we are talking about and yet you insist on barging into our conversation?" he asked the elf in front of him exasperatedly, tapping a foot in a gesture of annoyance that didn't impress the other in the slightest.  
  
"Of course," the silver haired elf retorted, eyes sparkling merrily. "You would be disappointed if I hadn't, you can freely admit it. Besides, that wasn't a conversation. It sounded rather like two squabbling infants."  
  
Aragorn merely snorted while Legolas drew himself up to his full height, putting on an arrogant expression and adapting the regal bearing befitting the Prince of Mirkwood.  
"It seems I have to remind you of who of us is the younger one, Lord Celylith."  
  
"Merely by eight years, my prince, a mere blink of an eye to our kind," Celylith retorted, grinning at his childhood friend. "Yet you have to admit that that human you insist on dragging around with you," he ignored Aragorn's outraged protest, "has yet to outgrow childhood."  
  
An answering grin spread on Legolas' face, and he turned to look at his human friend, an action that was mirrored by the silver haired elf.  
"You do have a point there, _mellon nín_…"   
  
Aragorn resisted the urge to hang his head. The two of them were ganging up on him again, just what he needed... It wasn't really fair – which didn't bother him really, since he had long ago learnt that fairness didn't have a place in dealing with his friends or brothers – but, by the Valar, he would get back at them. He didn't yet know how, but he would, and if he had to sic Hithrawyn on them. No, he wouldn't even do that to his worst enemy, the ranger decided after a second, that was a fate worse than death if he was not very much mistaken.  
  
"I am no child," he informed the two grinning elves, praying inwardly that they wouldn't start singing that … that song again. On their journey to Dale a few weeks prior Legolas and Celylith had come up with the single most annoying song he had ever heard in his entire life, and that meant a lot in his opinion since he had grown up in the House of Lord Elrond Peredhil where you were hard-pressed to name a time of day when you couldn't hear singing somewhere in the building. But his two friends' song was a true nuisance, not to mention highly embarrassing for him.  
  
He ignored the raised eyebrows of his companions and continued, glaring darkly at both of them to emphasise his point.  
"In the world of Men I am considered an adult, and have been for some years now."  
  
"Ah, my friend," Legolas told him in a particularly infuriating, friendly tone of voice, "You are not among Men now, are you?"  
  
"Unfortunately not," Aragorn grumbled under his breath. "But to be honest, I rather wish I were, Leafie."  
  
Celylith felt Legolas stiffen next to him, and he wouldn't have been surprised had the acid look that the other elf sent in Aragorn's direction burnt a neat little hole into the human's forehead. Leafie, that was a nickname the elven prince loathed, and if it was called loudly enough and in hearing range of some of the younger warriors, it was also a fool-proof method of suicide, as more than a few other elves had found out.  
  
Legolas didn't like to talk about how he had got it, and nobody would have believed him anyway had he said that a baby spider had decided to call him thus after _she_, Celylith stressed inwardly, it had been a female spider, had overheard Aragorn calling him "Greenleaf" once. Oh Wilwarin, the elf thought somewhat longingly; he really missed his spider pet. He still hadn't forgiven his prince for forcing him to abandon her, and he was really wondering how she was doing and whether she was truly happy with all the other spiders…  
  
Aragorn interrupted his musings by taking a step closer to him and peering intently into his face, all the while smiling widely.  
"Ah, thinking about Wilwarin, are we?"  
  
Celylith shot Legolas a quick look, more or less expecting a trail of smoke to leak from the prince's ears. That was yet another thing Legolas loathed: His little ex-pet. Saying the spider's name in the fair haired elf's presence was yet another thing which most sensible beings avoided, thus proving what Celylith had been saying for months now: Aragorn was definitely not a sensible person. Not that he needed to convince anyone of that fact anyway, those who didn't think so already were on their way to coming to the same conclusion all on their own.   
  
The silver haired elf gave Aragorn a scathing look, ignoring the smug glance he received in return, and hastily searched for a topic that wouldn't cause one of them to jump at the other's throat. The king wouldn't be too happy if they did because blood was really hard to get out of these carpets, and besides, Hithrawyn would have a fit if he saw one of the two in the near future, let alone both.   
  
"What did the king have to tell you so urgently?" he finally asked, following his friends to the kitchens where they intended to make sure that the provisions they wanted to take on their little hunting expedition were ready. "There is nothing wrong, is there?"  
  
Legolas looked up sharply, his friend's suddenly worried voice tearing him out of his reverie. He had been too busy imagining what he would do to Celylith's ex-pet if he ever had the fortune – or misfortune, he wasn't really sure about that yet – to meet it again to pay much attention to his surroundings, and he looked up to meet the concerned gaze of his oldest friend.  
  
"No, my friend," he reassured the other elf, "Nothing is wrong. My father merely informed us that Estel's brothers would be arriving soon to escort him back to Imladris. They will be arriving in nine or ten days, approximately."  
  
Celylith dropped his gaze and mumbled something, doing his best not to let the grin show on his face, and Aragorn glared at him, giving him what had been dubbed the _look _by a multitude of people, humans and elves alike. It was something he had learned from his father, and Lord Elrond's _look _of impending doom and destruction was fabled throughout Rivendell and beyond.   
  
"I heard that," Aragorn growled and grinned in satisfaction when the elf averted his eyes under the _look_. "I may be human, but I am not deaf."  
  
"Really, Celylith," Legolas chimed in, grinning evilly at the other elf, "To thank Elbereth was really rather uncouth."   
  
The silver haired elf gave his friend a dark look, midnight-blue eyes blazing in mock fury.  
"Please tell me that you are accompanying him, my lord. And that you will stay for a long, long time."  
  
"Well…" Legolas began, long hands describing nonchalant patterns in the air before reaching out to open the door of the storage room where their provisions should be stored.  
  
"We are working on it," Aragorn continued quickly. "We didn't think it wise to breach the subject right now. Lord Thranduil was rather…"   
  
"Strange today," Legolas finished with a warning glare at his human friend. "He was strange. I think we will ask him after we return from the hunt."  
  
"If you think that prudent," Celylith shrugged, turning his attention to the bags that were sitting in the one corner of the storeroom.   
  
Legolas had just opened his mouth for a reply when a small cough interrupted him, and all three of them turned to see two members of the small patrol which would be accompanying them on the hunt stand in front of them.  
  
"Anardir!" Legolas exclaimed, took a step forward and, after a second's hesitation, reached out with his right arm to grasp the other's forearm tightly. "I didn't know you had returned!"  
  
'I wouldn't have had I had it my way,' a small voice inside Anardir's head commented, and the tall, golden haired elf quickly pushed it back and returned the other's greeting.   
  
It was true that he had left the palace nearly a month ago on a patrol that had been bound for Dol Guldur to ascertain that there was nothing there that could still threaten their realm after the Necromancer had been driven out of the tower more than ten years ago, and he was surprised himself that they had already returned. It had been supposed to take much longer, but the journey had been frightfully uneventful, something that was just the precursor of certain doom, as he had learned long ago.  
  
It wasn't that he wasn't loyal to his prince and wasn't ready to help him in any way he could, but … well, but Legolas seemed to attract even more trouble when he and Estel were together, and Anardir was too experienced to stay put if it really happened that both his prince and his ranger friend were at the same place; he had seen enough of his liege's barely controlled temper to last him a human lifetime. If he could help it, he would be as far away as possible from these two, and he wouldn't help Legolas in one of his endeavours either. He was really quite fond of the place his head was occupying right now and would like it to remain there as well, if somehow possible.  
  
"It was a … surprise for us as well, my lord," he retorted, smiling at his friend and giving an inward sigh of relief when he could detect no overly mischievous sparkle in the fair haired elf's eyes. When he had heard that he and some other warriors were to accompany Prince Legolas, Captain Celylith and Strider by order of the king, he had seriously contemplated flight or forsaking the planes of this existence for the Halls of Mandos. Well, perhaps it hadn't been quite that bad, but almost. "I hear that Estel will be leaving us soon?"  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes, having been able to swear for a second that he had heard a hopeful undertone in the other's voice. After another second he shook his head, once again surprised how quickly news spread, especially apparently exciting news such as these.  
"Aye, he will," he nodded curtly. "Lord Elrond's twin sons will be arriving in a few days, but I am sure that you already know that. Was it the kitchens or the warriors?"  
  
Anardir blushed a little, knowing perfectly well what his prince was referring to. There were two networks in Mirkwood that worked better than any spy ring ever created by man, dwarf, elf or otherwise: First, the kitchen staff that somehow seemed to know everything worth knowing within seconds of the event, and second, the warriors via the guards that were posted at strategic spots in the palace and on the grounds. If one wanted to know something about someone, all one had to do was either pay the kitchens a visit or walk down to the gates and one would hear it, and a lot of other things in addition to what one had wanted to know in the first place.  
  
"The warriors, my lord," he admitted, shamefacedly. "Most are deeply saddened by the news, of course," he hastened to add, giving the broadly grinning _dúnadan _who was standing next to Celylith a quick look.  
  
Aragorn merely raised an eyebrow, looking remarkably like his foster father. There might be a bit of truth in that after all, he thought, for he was sure he and his two elven friends had proven to be highly entertaining in the past month.  
  
"Oh, I am sure they are," the man commented dryly, idly wondering just why everyone seemed to be ecstatic with joy to get rid of him. On second thought, he decided after a second, it probably was because Legolas and he managed to get into a tiny little bit of trouble when they were together. The others were exaggerating of course, but he was willing to admit that they had suffered a few … minor mishaps since coming back from Lake-town.  
  
Anardir chose not to answer the human and turned to his right where another elf stood who had followed the exchange with an amused smile on his lips.   
"Your Highness, you probably remember my friend Galalith? He will be coming with us as well."  
  
Legolas looked at the other elf who was giving him a slight bow. For a moment, he could in fact not remember him, but then the other's green eyes in combination with his rather unusual chestnut brown hair jogged his memory and he extended his hand, smiling.  
"Yes, I do. Your father is Elvomir the artist, correct?"  
  
"Yes, my prince," the dark haired elf nodded, returning Legolas' smile. "And from what he has been saying lately, he will kill all three of you if he ever lays eyes on you again."  
  
Celylith grinned, arching an eyebrow mockingly.  
"Now, why would he want to do that? Everyone apparently wants to do that of late!"  
  
The dark haired elf returned his captain's grin.  
"Well, sir, I think it might be connected to the fact that Prince Legolas and Strider broke that statue on the eastern balconies. He sculptured it about a thousand years ago I believe, and he was rather fond of it by now."  
  
"That was an accident!" both the elven prince and the human exclaimed.   
  
"He pushed me! I am a man, I do not possess the firstborns' reflexes; how was I supposed to avoid him?" Aragorn continued, looked at Galalith with big, silver eyes that reminded the elf of the eyes of a lost puppy dog.  
  
"_I _pushed _you_?" Legolas asked incredulously, aiming a left-handed swat at the human's head that was not nearly as strong or forceful as he had wanted it to. "Do I look like an irresponsible elfling? That is preposterous!"  
  
"Alright then," the ranger conceded. "What about a compromise: It was Celylith's fault."  
  
"What?" the silver haired elf hissed, taking a threatening step into his direction. "I was merely an innocent bystander!"  
  
Legolas grinned.  
"A bystander maybe, but definitely not innocent." He nodded at Aragorn. "Agreed. It was his fault."  
  
"Why that is…" Celylith began, apparently more than willing to be the one who strangled both Aragorn and Legolas now, but before it could come that far, Anardir cleared his throat, looking from one to the next with wide, slightly desperate eyes.  
  
"My lords, Estel," the golden haired elf said quickly, noting that they had indeed fallen silent to listen to him. Encouraged by his small success he continued, inwardly deciding to leave the palace again as soon as possible after they had returned from this accursed hunt. Nine days were too long, far too long.  
  
"We were sent here to get the provisions and make sure everything is ready," he continued, giving the bags in the corner a pointed look. "We can leave in half an hour if you're ready, otherwise it's going to be too late to hunt anything today, I fear."  
  
Legolas shot Celylith a last, cautious look before he turned to Anardir and nodded at him.  
"Of course, my friend, you are right. We will get our packs and weapons from upstairs and will meet you and the others in the courtyard in … twenty minutes, will that be alright?"  
  
Anardir quickly nodded and grabbed three of the heavy bags that sat on the floor, pushed them into his dark haired friend's arms, snatched up the rest and backed out of the room.  
"That will be perfectly alright, my prince. We will be seeing you then."  
  
With that he turned, pushed the rather stunned Galalith out of the storeroom and disappeared so quickly that even the two other elves had trouble telling where he had gone.  
  
After a few seconds Aragorn shook his head and slowly began to walk out of the now more or less empty room, stopping in front of the door for a few seconds to remember where the nearest staircase was located. Mirkwood's palace was vast and rather spacious, not to mention cave-like which he of course didn't tell his elven friends – too often, that was – and he had got lost more than once in his time here.  
  
"It's contagious," he simply stated and turned to the left, Legolas and Celylith following right behind him.  
  
"What is, _mellon nín_?" the elven prince asked as he was running the fingers of his right hand over his left forearm. It was still giving him trouble, but that was nothing he really wanted to think about.  
  
"The madness. You are all insane here," the ranger stated in a serious voice, as if voicing a conclusion he had been working on for some time.  
  
Celylith gave him an odd look.  
"Only a Noldo could say something like that."  
  
Aragorn shortly thought about informing the elf that he could hardly be counted as a Noldo since he was a man, but decided to let it be. Celylith was right after all, in a way.  
  
"We are not insane, Estel," Legolas agreed with his elven friend. "Before you came along, everything was peaceful and quiet, and we never had any trouble. I bet you anything you want that you will get yourself into trouble during our trip."  
  
The dark haired ranger stopped in front of the sweeping stone stairs that led to the upper levels of the palace where all three of them had their rooms.  
"Alright, I accept, and I bet that _you _will get yourself into trouble. And not only on our trip."  
  
"Very well," the fair haired prince inclined his head. "You have lost already, my friend."  
  
"We'll see about that," Aragorn snorted while they were making their way up the stairs. "You and your elven stubbornness will make sure of it, believe me."  
  
"Excuse me? And that is coming from you, the single most stubborn and reckless being that has ever been born!"  
  
"I, stubborn? Ha!"  
  
Celylith blocked out their bickering voices and shook his head, following the two of them up the stairs. It didn't matter who got into trouble, it would end like it always did, namely with him dragging both of them back to Master Hithrawyn. And since he tended to be the only conscious and/or lucid person around, he also got lectured by his liege and his father.  
  
One way or the other, he was doomed. The silver haired elf shook his head again. The things he did for those two…  
  
Unbeknownst to them, all of them were right. Trouble was already waiting for them, and it was more serious trouble than any of the three could have imagined.  
  
And that, all of them would have agreed, meant quite a lot.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**  
  
  
  
  
  
_mellon nín - my friend_  
_dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger_  
  
  
  
  
  
**Okay, I have just assumed that Elrond would use the Tengwar of Fëanor and not the Mode of Beleriand, which, the longer I think about it, is probably not correct, but what the heck. It's not that important anyway. *shrugs* Once again, this little bit of space here is reserved for me begging for reviews, and since I am used to it by now I'll keep doing it. *g* So: Reviews? Please? You know me, I live for 'em! So pretty please!! *g*  
  
  
  
  
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	2. Faithful Friends

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**  
  
**Thank you! *huggles stunned readers - except for Jazmin3 Firewing, of course* Thanks SO MUCH for all your lovely reviews! I missed all of you too - and your reviews, of course, but let's just pretend I never said that! *g* Aragorn and Legolas weren't quite that happy to see me again, I don't know why either. *shrugs* They're weird, we all know that...  
  
It's great to hear that you liked Thranduil's ... insanities, I really think it's amazing he's lasted this long. He's a very, very poor elf and deserves our sympathy. *g* And I agree that it's probably best if the two of them leave Mirkwood as soon as possible, _before_ the king totally loses it.  
  
Some of you have asked if the twins will be in this story, and I can assure you that they will indeed. *readers jump with joy* Uhm,** **it just _might_ take a little while though, maybe something along the lines of chapter 7 or 8 or something like that. So, you'll have to have a little patience, but I swear (even on the precious, if you insist! *g*) that they'll be here. Eventually. And, *insert dramatic pause here*, Glorfindel will make an appearance too! *squealing sounds from various female readers*** **The three of them won't be there as much as the twins in "AEFAE" for example, but it's better than nothing, right? Right?  
  
  
Very well, here we are, chapter 2 is ready and waiting for you! And because I know how much you like it, it has a little bit of Elf Angst since Legolas is so easy to pick on. Other than that, we see ... reckless rangers ... very annoyed elves ... and a rather depressed Anardir. *evil grin* Who can blame him, really?  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
  
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Chapter 2  
  
  
Anardir was staring into the flickering flames of the campfire, hardly daring to believe his luck.   
  
They had left the palace earlier today, and they hadn't been ambushed by orcs, had seen neither hide nor hair of a single warg or wolf, and no spider had shown itself. No dragon, troll, Ringwraith, balrog or other demon had been sighted; they hadn't even met strange men or dwarves or even a lost hobbit.  
  
To top everything off, they had managed to track a small herd of deer in the early evening and had shot several, therefore even achieving their end: To hunt.  
  
All in all, it had been one of the most uneventful hunting trips Anardir had ever participated in, and both Prince Legolas and young Estel were still alive, well and generally unscathed. Right now the two of them were sitting on the other side of the fire, talking amiable with two other young elves.  
  
It should have been a scene that filled him with contentment, but in reality it did anything but. He had been alive – and living in Mirkwood – long enough to know that there were things too good to be true, and if this was not one of them, he would walk on foot to Barad-dûr and tell Sauron that he had really beautiful eyes. Eye. Whatever.  
  
That thought might have been a little bit strange, the golden haired elf admitted after a few seconds, but essentially, it was true: This was too good to be true, or at least too good to last. That nothing, absolutely nothing, had happened was something that sent his senses into a panicked frenzy of dimensions that had been unknown to him until now. It was almost as if someone was ringing a very large bell inside his head and a bright light was flashing at the same time to warn him of the inevitable: Something had to go wrong, and it would go wrong during the next day. It had yet to happen that his prince and his human friend went anywhere together and did indeed come back in one piece.  
  
Besides, he as his captain's second was the one in command since the older elf had wisely elected to stay behind – a choice he was begrudged by every single warrior of the patrol, Anardir was sure – and therefore it was indeed imperative that something happened either to his liege's son, Lord Celythramir's son or Lord Elrond's son, because that would be just his kind of luck.   
  
Anardir gulped, doing his best to concentrate on the fire. He had never really seen it this way, but now that he thought about it, he was in fact responsible not only for the crown prince of Mirkwood, but also for the only remaining child of one of his king's closest and most trusted advisors and for the foster son of Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris.  
  
The blonde elf hung his head. He was dead; whatever happened, he was doomed. One of the aforementioned lords would kill him since something would surely happen to one of the aforementioned elves and/or rangers, and he once again began to ask himself what he had done to the Valar or even Ilúvatar himself to deserve this fate.   
  
And he had thought it had been bad when he had had to deliver Legolas' letter a few weeks prior to King Thranduil, he thought despairingly, the letter in which he had stated that he and his friends were not coming home from Lake-town as planned but were tracking an unknown group of humans to Dale, a course of action that had very nearly got all of them killed.  
  
He would almost have snorted. Hah, that had been nothing! This time Lord Thranduil would truly strangle him, and he would even be right to do so…  
  
"Are you alright, _mellon nín_?" a voice to his left asked, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. Anardir slowly turned, desperately trying to get his wildly beating heart under control.  
  
"Yes," he answered with forced cheerfulness, looking into the face of his friend Galalith. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well," the other elf answered, his eyes gleaming in the firelight like polished emeralds, "It might be because you keep looking at the fire with an expression so dark and forbidding that even the Dark Lord would be impressed."  
  
"Nonsense," Anardir shook his head bravely. "I am fine. Nothing has happened, has it?"  
  
"Ah," Galalith nodded knowingly, "I see. It is too good to be true, isn't it?"  
  
The golden haired smiled at his friend. They were in fact related, rather distantly though, and since their families weren't very close they considered themselves rather as friends than as kin. And still, Anardir thought, Galalith had been his best friend since they had been old enough to talk, and he thought of him more as the brother he had never had than anything else.  
  
"Indeed it is, my friend," he nodded, giving the two laughing beings across the fire – and Captain Celylith for good measure – a dark look. "Something must happen." He dropped his head into his hands, sighing deeply. "And something will happen, and it will be my responsibility. Please kill me now and spare me the anguish of having to explain all this to our liege."  
  
The dark haired elf gave his obviously very distraught friend a long look and carefully reached out to pat his shoulder.  
"Now, now, Anardir, it's not that bad, is it?"  
  
Anardir merely snorted.  
"Not yet."  
  
Galalith frowned and shrugged slightly.  
"Well…"  
  
"Do not try to console me," the other elf warned him. "It is no use, because I know better. I am doomed, and I know it."  
  
"That is a rather bleak outlook on life," Galalith warned him.  
  
"But realistic. Oh, so very realistic."   
  
"What is realistic, _mellon nín_?" another voice asked, and both of them turned to the right to see that Celylith had abandoned his seat next to the prince and had soundlessly stepped closer.  
  
"The prediction that either Prince Legolas or Strider will get hurt and that the king will kill our dear friend Anardir for it," Galalith explained, ignoring the scowl on the blonde elf's face at this revelation.  
  
"Oh," Celylith simply said and sat down next to the other two elves. "That prediction."  
  
"Yes, sir," Anardir nodded, slightly annoyed now. It was easy for him to see it this dispassionately, it wouldn't be him who the king would kill! "_That _prediction, only it isn't a mere prediction, but almost sure certainty."  
  
"I agree," the silver haired elf shrugged. "I have some first-hand experience, after all." He resisted the urge to rub the spot on his back where an arrow had hit him not too long ago. The wound had very nearly been lethal, and for a few days Aragorn and Legolas had in fact believed that he had died. Oh yes, he did have quite a lot experience when it came to travelling with these two. He quickly shook his head and gave the others a short look. "How are the odds?"  
  
The three elves looked about themselves, quickly checking if anyone – especially Prince Legolas or Estel – was sitting close enough to overhear their words. That there existed a betting pool among the warriors was a barely kept secret, and that Mirkwood's accident-prone prince and Lord Elrond's equally accident-prone foster son figured most prominently in it was also more or less common knowledge.  
  
"Everyone agrees that they will suffer an accident on this trip," Galalith answered, reciting the odds with the slightly weary voice of a person who had been asked to repeat the same information one too many times. "Three-to-one that it will be wargs or orcs, four-to-one for spiders, five-to-one for wolves, but only if they do not travel with orcs, then it would be four-to-one. Six-to-one for natural causes, including avalanches, and seven-to-one for a simple hunting accident."  
  
Celylith nodded slowly, thick silver tresses falling over his shoulders to conceal his face.  
"I see. We will have to negotiate something, because I think I wish to bet on … natural causes."  
  
"The weather is good!" Anardir protested, his sullen mood suddenly forgotten. "There will be no snow, and the temperature has been even for quite some time!"  
  
"Still," Celylith shrugged. "I would like to bet on it."  
  
"It is your money," Anardir's dark haired companion said, shrugging as well now. "It is left to you how you want to lose it, my lord."  
  
"We will see about that, Galalith," the fair haired elf grinned. His expression changed swiftly, and he looked darkly at Legolas and the young ranger who either didn't notice that they were being observed or simply did not care. Celylith returned his attention to the elves next to him, his forehead marred with a frown.  
"But I think we can agree that it has been too easy. There is _nothing _this easy when travelling with them. Ever."  
  
"My thoughts exactly, my lord," Anardir grumbled, giving the laughing figure of his prince a look just as dark as Celylith's a second ago. He was not only afraid of his king's reaction should anything happen to either of them, of course; he was equally worried for Legolas whom he had known since their warrior training more than two millennia ago. He would rather cut off one of his own arms than let anyone or anything hurt his prince and friend.  
  
His dark haired friend simply nodded, not as talkative anymore either, and Celylith ran a hand through his hair in a rather untypical gesture of concern.  
"Then let us make sure that they don't get themselves killed, at least. That should be a worthy challenge, don't you think?"  
  
Anardir nodded, his eyes once again straying back to the always changing, always moving flames of the campfire.  
"It should be, my lord."  
  
The three of them fell silent, listening to the crackling sounds of the fire and the quiet songs, laughter and conversation of their companions. Anardir allowed himself to get lost in the fire, his thoughts returning to the train of thought he had abandoned a few minutes ago.  
  
Oh yes. He was doomed, indeed.  
  
  
  
  
Refusing the urge to turn over for the thirty-seventh time – he had counted – Aragorn finally admitted to himself that he couldn't sleep.  
  
He had been denying it for some time now, ever since he had woken up to the sound of something moving through the treetops above his head. Something rather big, and from the sound of it, multi-legged. The young ranger knew of course that the guards that had been posted the evening before would alarm the rest of them should there be anything amiss, but contrary to his elven companions he was not used to sleeping somewhere where about a thousand hostile things were, sometimes literally, crawling all around you, just waiting for you to let down your guard.  
  
That was the reason why he positively hated sleeping anywhere in Mirkwood with the exception of the palace of course, and this deeply in the woods his feelings of anxiety and mild fear had grown even worse. Somehow the darkness of the forest brought back memories and nightmares he would have preferred to forget, and so it came that he rarely found sleep here.  
  
At least, he thought, trying to find something positive about the situation, there were no elves here that despised humans and let him feel it, too. Despite his friendship with Legolas – or perhaps because of it – there were some elves in Mirkwood who didn't like humans overly much, to use a polite term, and those elves let him know exactly what they felt like whenever they got a chance, and be it only in the form of a contemptuous look. Those encounters never got much worse than that or a few well-chosen snide comments when it was certain that he would hear them, but they still bothered him more than he had ever thought possible.  
  
He knew that Legolas would be beside himself with fury should he ever hear about it and that he would probably personally make sure that none of these elves again ever even _looked _in his direction the wrong way, but he had of course not told his elven friend. When he had been a child in Rivendell and had had trouble fitting in, he had learned that telling your family or friends made it even worse. It was something he had to deal with on his own, and in the end, the few elven children that had dwelt in Rivendell at that time had accepted him. It had taken some time, of course, but in the end they had accepted that he wasn't that different from them even though his ears were rounded and he couldn't climb a tree as fast as they could.  
  
But that was exactly what was bothering him: It reminded him even now that he would never be an elf's equal, that he would never be as fast or stealthy or graceful as one of the _eldar_. He had always thought that he had accepted that he was human and had different strength – that was at least what his father had always told him – but, apparently, it was not so.  
  
Sighing deeply, Aragorn sat up and threw his blankets aside, beginning to put on his boots. He took up his sword belt that had been sitting next to him and got to his feet, giving the beige canvas of the tent a dark look. He knew of course that he needed a tent to sleep in at this time of year when there was no other shelter available because he was not nearly as resilient to the cold as the firstborn, but in his current state of mind it only reminded him of his human weaknesses.  
  
It was not fair, he decided darkly as he moved to the tent's entrance, elves neither needed several blankets nor a tent. They simply retreated to the treetops or slept on the ground, not at all bothered by the cold or snow.   
  
At that, a memory swirled before his eyes, and Aragorn couldn't stifle the smile that spread on his solemn features when he exited the tent. A few weeks ago, just after he had been released from the healing wing, Legolas, Celylith and he had somehow got into an argument about this very same topic, and somehow, he didn't really know how, it had ended with them trying to teach him how to "properly" sleep in a tree, since the Noldor allegedly knew nothing about that "art".   
  
Needlessly to say, it did not turn out well, and later that night the two elves had had to drag him back to Hithrawyn, who had of course not been happy to see him again, and bruised and with a sprained wrist at that. He had of course not been able to sleep in a tree without someone very close by, and had succeeded in teaching his elven friends that humans were not made for such activities and that the second born could fall from a branch faster than even elves could react.  
  
The dark haired human slowly began to grin. Elentári, Legolas' face had been priceless when he had jerked awake and promptly fallen off the branch he had been lying on…  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard almost undetectable footsteps behind him, and he turned to look into the politely neutral face of Galalith, who was apparently one of the guards at this hour. It was still nearly pitch-black, and little starlight filtered through the dark, densely packed trees around the little glade they had chosen as a camping place. The other guard was probably somewhere in the trees above the small campfire the elves had lit mainly in order to keep him warm; Aragorn was very much aware of that fact. He didn't even try looking for the other elf. In this darkness, he could look for a Silvan elf in a tree until the end of this age; he would never be able to detect him.  
  
"Is something the matter, Estel?" Galalith asked, arching a reddish-brown eyebrow.  
  
"No," the man shook his head. "No, everything is alright, thank you for your concern. I just couldn't sleep, that is all."  
  
The elf cocked his head to the side, surveying him with interest.  
"Is that normal for humans? I always thought you needed a lot of sleep – that is at least what Anardir keeps telling me."  
  
Aragorn smiled and pushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. Anardir was one of the elves who journeyed to Lake-town at regular intervals to return the barrels the human traders used to transport their goods, and therefore had more experience than most Mirkwood elves when dealing with men. Now that the Forest River which was used for transportation was frozen, the elves used sledges to reach Esgaroth, but since there were fewer elves needed this way and the journeys weren't undertaken as frequently, Anardir and some of his men had been assigned to other duties.  
  
"It is normal," Aragorn answered, once again mildly surprised at how little their two races knew about each other. "A sleepless night has yet to kill one of my kind."  
  
Galalith nodded, obviously accepting the human's explanation, but he still eyed him somewhat suspiciously. For a moment, Aragorn wondered if Legolas had instructed the elf to make sure that he slept enough. Sometimes, the elven prince could be incredibly over-protective, and Aragorn knew better than to put such an action beneath him.  
  
"Where is Legolas?" he asked before the elf could ask him another question. "Is he still asleep?"  
  
"No," Galalith shook his head. "He left the camp about half an hour ago."  
  
"He left?" Aragorn asked, mildly concerned. "Why? Did he go alone? And where?"  
  
Galalith couldn't quite hide a smile, and he shook his head minutely, trying to reassure the anxious human.  
"Nothing is wrong, calm yourself. He was merely restless and wanted to be alone for a few hours. Right now he is practicing his archery, I think, about ten minutes to the east from the sound of it."  
  
Now it was the ranger's turn to shake his head. Didn't these elves know anything?  
"You let him go alone? At night? In Mirkwood where there are a multitude of things just lining up to bite his head off?"  
  
The dark haired elf looked at him, his green eyes narrowing to mere slits.  
"I will have you know, Master Human, that we did not 'let him go'. We asked him to let one of us accompany him, but he refused. He ordered us to stay behind; he didn't even allow Captain Celylith to come with him."  
  
Aragorn saw the truly hurt expression on the other's face and quickly bowed his head to appease the elf.  
"Forgive me, Master Elf. I meant no offence, and I know that you do all you can to protect him." He looked up again, grey eyes sparkling in the fire's sparse light. "It is the prince's fault, and that haughty stubbornness of his will get him killed one day, as I keep telling him."  
  
Galalith did not reply, not wishing to insult his liege's son even in his absence, but it was clear to see that he agreed with the ranger's assessment. The elf blinked quickly when the man simply gave him another nod and turned on his heel, giving the sleeping camp one last look before beginning to make his way over to the eastern edge of the clearing.  
  
"Strider!" Galalith hissed and hurried after the man. "What are you doing?"  
  
The ranger stopped and turned, a dark eyebrow arched in a way that reminded the elf eerily of Lord Elrond.  
"Walking?"  
  
The dark haired elf ground his teeth and slowly counted to ten. Elbereth, he had never known that a human could be this irritating!  
"I can see that. Walking whereto?"  
  
Estel looked at him with innocent eyes that didn't fool the elf for a second. He knew the man's adoptive brothers, and he had seen that particular look far too often. Most of the time right before they got his prince and any who didn't betake themselves to flight into trouble.  
  
"Why," the man asked, "Just … walking, I guess."  
  
"Of course," Galalith snorted. "And I am an orc. Prince Legolas ordered us not to follow him."  
  
"No," the young ranger protested, giving the elf a small smile, "He ordered _you_. I am not one of his subjects; he cannot tell me to do anything and he knows it perfectly well."  
  
"He will be most displeased to see you wandering around in the darkness," the elf tried to appeal to the human's conscience.  
  
"Yes," Aragorn merely shrugged.  
  
Galalith hung his head. There was nothing to reply to this. He looked up to see the man grin broadly and had to resist the urge to clout him, reminding himself of what his prince and Lord Elrond would say if they heard about it.  
  
"Do not worry, Galalith," the ranger told him, trying to wipe the grin off his face. "I will be fine."  
  
With that he turned and disappeared between the dark trunks of the trees, quickly passing out of sight, even though his footfall could still be heard by elven ears since there wasn't enough light for him to see clearly where he was stepping.  
  
"You did well," a voice behind him noted dryly, and the dark haired elf turned quickly to come face to face with Celylith, who had apparently jumped down from his perch in the big oak tree next to the fire. "It was a valiant effort, and you must be complimented for your patience."  
  
Galalith bit back a rather rude comment and merely glared at his superior.  
"You could have helped me, my lord, instead of watching me argue with an insufferably stubborn _adan_."  
  
Celylith shrugged, sat down next to the fire and added another log to it, watching how the new fuel was greedily consumed by the flickering flames.  
"It would have been pointless. I know this look on Strider's face; there is no reasoning with him when he is like this."  
  
"That is comforting," the other elf grumbled. "Then it was not just my fault."  
  
"Nay, Galalith," the silver haired elf laughed. "It was not your fault at all. He is stubborn, even more so than our dear prince, I sometimes believe."  
  
"Impossible," Galalith shook his head. "That is simply not possible."  
  
Celylith turned, dark blue eyes twinkling.  
"Do you really think so?" When the other nodded, a smile began to spread on his face. "Ah, _mellon nín_, you don't happen to be interested in a small bet? The warriors of my guard have a rather interesting one going…"  
  
Galalith returned the grin, and together the two elves began to talk about the precise odds of the bet, both keeping an eye out for anything that might want to harm their sleeping companions.  
  
  
  
  
The arrow hit the bark of a tree with a dull thud, vibrating violently with the force of the impact. The arrow's dully glistering point had buried itself in a small, roundish spot where the top layer of the bark had been removed, dividing it into two nearly perfect semicircles.  
  
Nearly perfect.  
  
That was not even remotely good enough, Legolas thought with a small scowl and walked up to the tree, stopping in front of it and eyeing it as if it was somehow to blame for his lack of accuracy.   
The fair haired elf gave his arrow another dark look before he grasped it and pulled it out of the wood, the anger and frustration that were beginning to well up inside of him making his movement impatient and jerkier than he had intended. Just as he thought that the shaft was finally coming out, the projectile's carved wood splintered and broke, leaving him with the broken, jagged pieces in his hands, the head still firmly imbedded in the tree's dark bark.  
  
Legolas gazed at the splintered wood in his hands, resisting the urge to give a short, desperate laugh. A broken arrow. Oh, it was so very befitting, was it not?  
  
He let himself sink down onto a fallen log a few feet away from his target, still staring blindly at the projectile. A few months ago nothing like this would have happened, but now… The elven prince's hands closed tightly around the shaft, so tightly that the ragged edges dug into his palms and drew blood. But now, now everything was changed, and as much as he tried to deny it, he was beginning to fear that it would never become as it had been before.  
  
Legolas shook his head slowly, hopelessly. It had all been his fault, in a way. He knew of course that he couldn't have done anything differently, that jumping down the rest of that cliff had been the only thing to save himself and, ultimately, Estel, but that was his brain talking, and his heart was in no mood to listen to the voice of reason. He had broken his arm in the process, and it had been a very, very bad break, he had known that from the very point he had regained consciousness, only to be greeted by the sight of the white edges of his left radius that had broken the skin of his left forearm.  
  
Aragorn had set his arm, several hours later, and despite the young human's doubts all those involved, including Legolas himself, agreed that he had done an admirable job, but it had been several hours too late. This was one of the times when elven healing powers were a negative thing, the elf decided with a wry grin that did not reach his eyes. With bad breaks such as these it was not a good thing when the body was starting to try and repair the damage it had suffered before the bones had been set, when nerves and sinews tried to cut the connection to the surrounding tissue to minimise the damage before everything had been done to return the bones to the correct place…  
  
Legolas slowly opened his eyes, staring unseeingly at a place just across the little clearing he was occupying. He should be thankful that he had regained most of his mobility, and not being able to aim perfectly should be a small problem. That, however, made everything even worse. Outwardly he tried to project an air of optimism so his friends and especially his father wouldn't see how he felt, but his stoic façade was beginning to crumble and show small cracks which would not remain unnoticed for long anymore by those who knew him well.  
  
He knew he should be patient, he knew that his arm might still heal properly, but every time he strung an arrow to his bow and felt how his left arm trembled and shook under the strain, his hope died a little more, and with it his heart. He had never thought it possible to feel such fear and frustration, but not being able to shoot properly had allowed both these feelings to grow to incredible proportions in his heart.  
  
He still had his knives, of course, but he was an archer at heart, and what was an archer without a bow?  
  
A very sorry figure, that much was sure…  
  
Suddenly, his ears detected a sound, a sound that resembled footsteps now that he thought about it. Footsteps he would and should have noticed a long time earlier had he not been so focused on feeling sorry for himself, a small voice inside his head noted wryly, making the elf frown deeply. Now even his own mind was beginning to give him trouble, that was just wonderful, wasn't it?  
  
Even despite his previous thoughts Legolas gripped his bow tightly with his left hand, his right lingering close to the quiver that was strapped onto his back. He thought it highly unlikely that there were any orcs or goblins near their camp, but one never could be too careful. The fair haired elf tensed even further when he detected movement between the trees to his left, and he stealthily moved closer the tree line.   
  
He had to wait only for a few seconds before a dark figure neared his position, and without thinking twice Legolas reached out to grab whoever was wandering around here in the night by the cloak. His grip was blocked though and someone grabbed his wrist tightly, trying to force him around. Growling inwardly, Legolas let go of his bow and twisted out of the being's grasp, and, aided by his sharp eyes that had no trouble discerning the hooded stranger in the night, he slammed him against a tree trunk, pressing one of his knives against the other's throat before he could even make a single move.  
  
For several moments, there was nothing to be heard than the other's slightly laboured breathing before he finally spoke up, still sounding rather out of breath.  
"Ouch."  
  
Legolas blinked and relaxed his grip slightly, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he heard the familiar voice. The other took another deep breath and minutely shook his head, his hood falling back a little to reveal several disarrayed strands of dark hair.  
"That was entirely unnecessary."  
  
The elven prince stared at the being he was still pinning to the tree before he blinked again and jerked his hands back as if he had burnt himself, the knife disappearing as quickly as it had been drawn.  
"Estel? What are you doing here? Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? What – are – you – _doing_ – here?"  
  
Aragorn allowed his shoulders to sag slightly and removed the hood he had drawn around his head in an attempt to protect himself against the cold air of the night, something that had been rather foolish as he realised now. He gingerly touched his throat where a very faint red line could be seen and glared at the shocked elf.  
"I am walking! What did it look like to you when you decided that it would be amusing to slam me into trees and to nearly cut my throat?"  
  
"I thought you were an orc!" Legolas hissed back, the realisation that he had nearly slit his best friend's throat hitting him like a blow to the stomach and leaving him weak and shaking. He quickly bent forward and took up his bow, straightening up with a dark scowl on his face. "I nearly killed you! Elbereth, you really _are _trying to get yourself killed, aren't you?"   
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes at his friend.  
"I do not even remotely sound like an orc. I do not smell like an orc – don't say anything now if you want to keep your head where it currently is – I do not look like an orc, I am _nothing_ like an orc!"  
  
Legolas all but staggered back to the tree trunk he had been sitting on earlier, letting himself sink down onto the wood with a small gasp.  
"Valar! You do not sneak up on an elf and then try to reason yourself out of it when you get caught!" He didn't give his human friend who was slowly following him the time to protest but simply continued, giving the man a disapproving look. "What are you doing here, Aragorn? You should be asleep!"  
  
"As should you be," the man retorted, sitting down next to the elf. "And even if the firstborn need little rest, you should definitely know better than wandering around Mirkwood at night alone!"  
  
"You did the exact same thing," Legolas pointed out, trying to distract the ranger.  
  
"No," Aragorn protested, looking very pleased with his reasoning. "I did not 'wander around'. I was looking for you, that's a difference."  
  
Legolas didn't return the small smile his friend was giving him and merely continued looking at him darkly, an expression that just didn't seem to fit his usually so merry face.  
"If you knew where to find me, you must have talked to Galalith or one of the others. And they will have told you that I do not wish for company tonight."  
  
"They did," the young ranger admitted.   
  
"But? So? Therefore?" Legolas shot back, his frustration and worry turning into irrational anger all of the sudden. "I do not think I stated that wish in any way ambiguously, nor that it was too much to ask for!"  
  
Aragorn drew back a little, somewhat shocked by his elven friend's outburst. It was so unlike Legolas to behave like this, and the worry that had been growing inside of him redoubled.  
"Peace, my friend," he tried to calm the other. "If I am indeed intruding and you want to be alone, I will heed your wishes, of course. I shall leave you, you need not become angry."  
  
The elven prince's expression changed immediately from anger to remorse, and he hastily reached out and placed a hand on Aragorn's arm who was just about to get back to his feet.  
"Forgive me, _mellon nín_," he pleaded softly, refusing to meet the other's eyes. "I spoke in anger and my words were uncalled for. Please stay, if you wish."  
  
The man gave him a long look before he sat back down, concern and a little fear swirling in his silver eyes. After a few moments during which none of them spoke, he finally opened his mouth, unable to contain the mounting anxiety he felt any longer.  
"What is it, my friend? What drove you here in the middle of the night?"  
  
For a moment, Legolas felt the strong urge to lie to his friend, to tell him that everything was alright and he was merely feeling tired, but he knew that Aragorn would never believe him. That human was just like his father, he decided with a small, inward smile, he always knew when something was wrong with him, and nothing he ever did could fool him.  
  
He took a deep breath and nodded into the direction of the tree where the stub of the arrow was still protruding from the dark bark.  
"That."  
  
The human shot him a puzzled look before he got to his feet and walked over to the tree, nearly falling down once for it was essentially still far too dark for a man to see anything. Finally he reached the tree and bent his dark head over the broken shaft, a pale beam of moonlight illuminating the scene.  
  
"I can see nothing out of the ordinary," he told his elven friend who was staring intently at his hands now. "If this tree tried to attack you, you stopped it just in time."  
  
Under any other circumstances, Legolas might at least have rolled his eyes at his friend's attempt at humour, but now he merely closed them.  
"Look closer," he advised the man softly.  
  
Aragorn did as he was told.  
"Well … you hit it nearly perfectly in the middle," he said after a few seconds, understanding slowly beginning to dawn on him.  
  
"Precisely," Legolas nodded with a hollow laugh. "'Nearly perfectly'." He opened his eyes again, silver-blue eyes fixing on the man's face. "That is not good enough."  
  
"Legolas," the ranger began, sympathy on his face, "You know that it has merely been a month. There is still a fair chance that everything will return to normal, especially if you continue practising as you do now. I know it is hard and…"  
  
"I do not need your pity!" the elf snapped, averting his eyes. "I neither want yours nor anyone else's!"  
  
Aragorn looked at his friend, grey eyes darkening in anger and hurt. He quickly pushed these feeling to the back of his mind, knowing how hard it was for Legolas to cope with this. Rarely did an elf give any thought whatsoever to the possibility of lasting physical harm, and to find himself in a situation such as this one had to be nothing short of terrifying for the elven prince.  
  
"I do not pity you," he told him softly, slowly walking back to where his friend was sitting on the fallen log. "If there is one person in this world who does not call for pity, it is certainly you."  
  
The elf still refused to meet his eyes, and so Aragorn kneeled down in front of him, reaching out with one hand to take his chin and gently turn his face around until the prince's eyes looked at him.  
  
"You do not have my pity," he repeated seriously. "What you have is my empathy, and my understanding. I do know what you feel like, for something like this is much more common among my kind." He paused for a moment, grimacing slightly. "When I was about fifteen years old, I fell out of a tree, as I have done many times. But that time, I broke my leg, and it took me more than three months to be able to walk properly again. I know that sometimes even my father doubted that I would recover, even though he never showed it, and many times during these three months I was close to despairing, for I was sure that I would forever be crippled and would never become a warrior like Elladan and Elrohir."  
  
Legolas carefully freed his chin from the human's grasp and cocked his head slightly to the side.  
"And what stopped you from falling into despair?"  
  
Aragorn smiled fondly, obviously deep in memory.  
"My family and my friends, of course. They believed that I would walk again, no matter how long it would take, and, in the end, I believed it too. And when the bones had healed and I was hale again, I was very glad that I had trusted their judgement." The ranger looked at his elven friend seriously. "You have already much improved, _mellon nín_. You only have to give it more time, and I am confident that your arm will heal completely. Be patient."  
  
Legolas frowned, looking at his hands again.  
"You do not understand, Aragorn," he shook his head. "I am helpless as it is now."  
  
"Helpless?" the man exclaimed, studying his friend's face in the slowly increasing light that began to filter through the trees. "You are far from that, Legolas! You still shoot more accurately than I ever will!"  
  
"But, if you will forgive me saying so, that is not good enough for me," the fair haired elf explained, a pained expression on his face. "I am not used to having to allow scope for the case that my arrow does not fly true. I am not used to taking into account that I might not hit exactly where I had meant to hit. I cannot go into battle like this, Aragorn. I could not stand at your back with the knowledge that the slightest, very possible lack of accuracy will not take an enemy's life, but yours. I cannot protect myself or anyone else when I know that I might as well kill my friends. I cannot."  
  
Aragorn shook his head in dismay, not really knowing what to tell the elf. He was right, and that made the entire thing even more painful. It was in situations like these that he longed to be at home, where he could ask his father or even his brothers for advice.  
  
"I am sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I should have been more careful when I set your arm; had my father or another healer been there, this would probably never have happened. It is my fault, and nothing I can ever say or do will ever be able to make up for it."  
  
"No, Estel," the prince shook his head, his own problems forgotten for the moment. "It was not your fault; you saved my life that day, and the mobility I do have I owe to you. If not for you I would probably have lost far more than just my accuracy."  
  
"But…" the young man began again, eyes guilt-filled and dark in his face.  
  
"No," Legolas repeated firmly. "I do not want to hear another word about this. It was not your fault, and nothing would have been different had Lord Elrond been there. Do not blame yourself."  
  
Aragorn bit down on his bottom lip, eyes still troubled. But he didn't retort anything to his friend's words and simply nodded his head.  
"As you wish."   
  
He paused for a moment and studied the elf closely, noting the way his shoulders slumped in frustration and hopelessness.  
"You are not helpless," he told him again. "We just won't get ourselves involved in a battle until you are fully well again, my friend. And even if we do, you will simply forget about that stupid bow and take your daggers instead, alright?"  
  
As he had anticipated, the elf's eyes lit up angrily when he heard the derogatory words about his beloved weapon.  
"If your brothers weren't coming in a few days, I would kill you here and now for this and make it look like an accident."  
  
"An accident?" Aragorn asked, an eyebrow arched high.  
  
Legolas grinned, feeling how some of the stress and frustration dissipated like a bad dream.  
"Yes, something that involves you stumbling and falling into your own sword."  
  
"Let me guess," the ranger interjected in mock seriousness. "Repeatedly. And after that I mysteriously manage to shoot myself several times in the back."  
  
"How did you know that?" the elf asked, apparently greatly surprised. "I would be inconsolable, of course…"  
  
"Of course you would be," Aragorn grinned, slowly getting to his feet. He brushed the melting snow from his clothing and offered Legolas a hand up. "I think we should return to the others, or Celylith and Anardir will come looking for us. You worried them greatly when you insisted on going alone."  
  
The elf let himself be pulled to his feet and ducked his head a little sheepishly.  
"I know. I just couldn't bear the thought of company; I needed to be alone for a while."  
  
"Solitude can be a faithful friend, but just as easily it can be your worst enemy," the man reminded his companion. "It is easy to lose oneself in hopelessness and despair when one is alone in the night." He looked at the prince, serious grey eyes boring into silver-blue ones. "This is temporary, Legolas. I believe that you will fully recover, and so must you. You will overcome this, my friend, I know you will. If you do not think so yourself, then trust me."  
  
Legolas looked at the young ranger, once again marvelling at how much he sometimes sounded like his foster father, something that should not even be possible for one of the second born.  
"I do trust you," he said quietly. "I believe I will also trust your judgement, _mellon nín_." He gave his human friend a long, unreadable look before bowing his head slightly. "And while I might nearly have fallen into despair, I shall never fall into hopelessness, Estel."  
  
Aragorn inclined his head as well, smiling brightly at the blonde elf's slightly ambiguous words.  
"You shall indeed not, my friend, and I am glad for it."  
  
Both began to walk back into the direction of the camp site, the small patches of the sky that could be seen through the dark, leafless canopies of the trees lighting up slowly as the sun began to make her way across the heavens. The sounds of birds began to fill the air as the small creatures awoke to the sun's rays, and Aragorn once again thought sadly what a beautiful place Mirkwood had to have been once, before the coming of the Necromancer.  
  
When they reached the trees, he turned back to his elven friend, an impish grin on his face.  
"Well, I advise you to try and come up with an explanation that will satisfy our dear friend Celylith and the rest of our companions. I truly do not think he is very happy with you right now."  
  
"I imagine not," Legolas shrugged. "But I already know what to tell him."  
  
"Oh? And what would that be?"  
  
Legolas turned his head and grinned at the man.  
"The obvious, of course: That it was all your fault."  
  
Aragorn stopped dead in his tracks, mock outrage on his face.  
"My fault? _My fault? _You nearly broke every single one of my ribs today, strangled me, threatened me with a dagger and then it is my…"  
  
"Oh, do be quiet, reckless human."  
  
"As you wish, stubborn elf. And I am not reckless."  
  
Legolas didn't even grace that statement with an answer as they made their way through the thick undergrowth back to their campsite. And that, Aragorn thought with a small smile, was probably quite a good thing, too.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**  
**  
  
  
  
  
**_mellon nín - my friend_  
_eldar - 'People of the Stars', elves_  
_adan - human, man_  
  
  
  
  
**See? *points at chapter ending* This is not a cliffy! I don't _always_ write cliffies! *tries to look offended* Okay, so I'll probably update every four or five days as always, right now probably the latter since college is rather busy at the moment.** **In the next chapter we'll see just how much Anardir was right, who ultimately wins the bets and that my alter ego's back to play. *g* That and much more, the more reviews I get the sooner! Never underestimate the power of reviews, for they make authors very happy and hyper! Really!  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Sirithiliel** - Really? Great, then we're both equally insane - that's always a comforting thought... *g* I'm very happy to hear that you liked the beginning, and I'll admit that Sirithiliel is really not _that_ easy a name to spell. But it's doable, so stick to it!  
**Kathira** - *g* So I should include lots of Aragorn and Legolas torture and angst? Well, I think I just MIGHT be able to do something about that! Never fear, I don't think I could write anything but... I'm very flattered to hear that you liked my previous stories so much, it's always great to hear that someone actually enjoys the weirdness I seem to be unable to stop! Thanks for reviewing!  
**Coreinha** - *hangs head* I'm sorry too, but I swear it wasn't my fault! I tried, but the phone company is always the one ruining all my plans... They're pure evil, that's what they are! *shakes fist* We hatesss them, evil nassty humansss! And I resent that last comment. I don't know why, since you are perfectly right, but I resent it nonetheless. Whatever. *shakes head at her ramblings* Just ignore me, will you? Thanks.  
**Helen T** - It was not a cliffy! For cryin' out loud, it was NOT - A - CLIFFY! I mean, that wasn't one! It was a tiny little bit of foreboding, yes, but not a cliffy. The next chapter's a cliffy, I'll admit that, but ... oops, I shouldn't have said that, huh? *evil grin* Probably not... I'll think about the Elrond/Glorfindel reunion (the "/" is absolutely coincidental!), but I have to stress that I didn't promise anything, and if I did, I lied. I don't know if it will be in here since there will be no Elrond in it, and it wouldn't do from Glorfindel's point of view. So, maybe. I'll think about it, okay?   
**Critternut** - Yup, I'm back. *g* Great to hear that you've been looking forward to this weird little story so much, it's very flattering. "Straight Paths" is a little five-chapter-story I promised Kaeera as a birthday present (so it will be posted on the 23rd), and it's about _her_ favourite character who just happens to be Elrohir. It turned out to be a twin story with lots of Glorfindel and Elrond, taking place about five hundred years before Aragorn's birth. So, no Estel, and no Legolas either, sorry. *g* Well, in this case it would rather be the calm before the storm before the storm, but you'll see. In a few chapters, that is... *evil grin* No, English is definitely not my first language, that would be German. *sighs* I know, it's an ugly language, most of the time. Ancient Greek is much nicer. I know, I'm insane, don't tell me. *g*  
**Kirsten** - Jeez, I'm one of your favourite authors? *blushes* That's a very nice thing to say, even though my sister would tell you to read more - she might even be right there.. *g* She's evil though, so I ignore her most of the time. No, it's not too late yet to request lots of elf torture, I'm sure I'll be be able to do something about that. Yup, definitely... *very evil grin*  
**Alisha B** - *huggles* OF COURSE I remember you! How could I ever forget!? *haunted look* No, J/k, it's GREAT to 'see' you! Aww, you were worried about me? How sweet... (Voice in Nili's head: She only wants your story, idiot! Nili: Lalalala, not listening, not listening!!) I will definitely try to update on time, otherwise I know that you would be more than happy to do a bit of nagging! Don't look so innocent, I _know_ you! *huggles again* Thanks a lot for reviewing again!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Yes, I think they've finally done it. It's a miracle Thranduil remained sane as long as he did anyway! *pats her back carefully* As I said, yes, the twins will be in this story, not that much, but yes, they'll be here. Now be a star and stop bouncing, you'll fall off and break a wrist, and then who would review? *g* Thanks for your review, it's great to 'see' familiar 'faces'!  
**Deana** - *looks at her rolling on the floor* Okay, you seem to be enjoying yourself - which is great! I'm very happy to hear that you like it, so here's more! Hope this was soon enough - but then again, it never is, is it? *g*  
**Nikara** - You're really watching my page? Uhm, okay, it's here, don't worry... As mentioned above, my update rhythm is every four or five days. I would like to post every four, but I think it will be five for the next few weeks since that horrible place called college demands my attention, and it has nasty ways of making sure that it gets it too... *g*   
**Ellyrianna** - *hangs head* I'm very sorry for letting you wait, I really do. I had no say in the whole thing, unfortunately... I updated the very day I could go online again, I swear! *wide-eyed look* Will you forgive me? Pretty please? *looks offended* Well, you should know me better by now to know that I would never write a just-Aragorn or just-Legolas fic. I couldn't, it wouldn't be fair. So never fear, I'll make sure that both of them get their equal share of owies and mental torture and Valar-know-what-else. Okay? Okay.  
**Marbienl** - You did it! You conquered the evil FF.net - for once, at least! *g* Well, what Galion meant was that his injuries weren't life-threatening when he got to Mirkwood, I guess. They weren't then, you have to admit that. *shakes head* You. Always looking for some possible hidden injury. I'm not saying that there aren't any, but you're obsessed, that's what you are. *g* Many people have pointed the Thranduil-Gollum-parallel out, but I have to admit that I didn't even think of it once when writing it. Really, I didn't, but you're all right, of course. The twins were planning to come to Mirkwood and stay for a week or two and then leave again when the passes had some time to de-freeze - or whatever mountain passes might do. That wouldn't have been too much, and Estel's not made out of glass either. He would manage. *innocent look* No, I have no idea what you like? No, wait, wasn't it romance? Or something like that? Yes, I think that was it... *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - What exactly is the Sméagol dance? Do I even want to know? *Aragorn shakes his head fervently* Ah, apparently not... And I really think that they need something much more stronger than peroxide, mate. Try a crash cart and an emergency room. *evil cackle* And lots and lots of doctors. About a dozen should do. *g* Thanks for reviewing again! It's great to 'see' you again!  
**Joee the Drunken Elf** - Then I was really lucky, wasn't I? That I did post on Thursday I mean... Great you like this already, I hope you'll enjoy the rest as well! Thanks a lot for your review!  
**Dha-Gal** - You read THOM in two-four hours? Wow, you're a fast reader then. I have no idea how much it would take me, I have never read all of it. *shrugs* It's not that funny when you know what happens, is it? As I said, this is NOT a cliffy, but I have to admit that my alter ego's already back and more than impatient. She enjoys other people's misery, she does... I don't of course! Never! *g* Yeah, I always try to put in lots of details, otherwise reading is no fun at all. Great you like it! Thanks for your compliments and your review! Both is very much appreciated! *g*  
**Gwyn** - *g* Do not kill Celylith, hm? Well, then I'll have to kill Legolas and/or Aragorn, won't I? I mean, I have to kill someone here! *g* I'm very glad to hear that you've been enjoying the first chapter, and I really hope you'll like the rest as well. I'm always a bit self-conscious about new stories... *shrugs*  
**Firnsarnien** - *watches her backflip* Wow, that was really nice! I mean, I couldn't do that! I would try and land flat on my face, which wouldn't be very graceful, I guess. Yeah, I kinda remembered that you liked elf angst, and since I did, I put this little scene in this chapter. Plus, Legolas is such an easy victim, nearly as good as Aragorn. *evil grin* Oh, and I am SURE you would give them lots of 'tender loving care', but they might try to escape and we can't have that. I might give them to you for a little while after the story. Deal? *huggles* Thanks for reviewing again! I truly hope you'll enjoy this story as well!  
**Silvertoekee** - Aha, so I've found a lurker! *about to press the button with the insciption 'Rabid warg-horde'* No, j/k, it's great to see someone de-lurk! I really love to hear what people think about my weird little stories. LOL, yeah, one kinda wonders how they managed to survive till the end of the Third Age - God knows I don't. Pure dumb luck, I guess. *g* Thanks for de-lurking and reviewing! Reviews encourage me immensely!  
**Jenny** - Hey! Great to 'see' you again! Well, this chapter has no cliffy, but I guess I would lie if I promised it would stay that way, sorry. You know me, I'm too evil and have too sadistic an alter ego not to write cliffies. *sniffs* Sorry, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonentheless!  
**Mouse5** - Well, if that's not Mouse! I was very happy to see that you had reviewed again - thanks a lot! *shrugs* You know me, I'm evil, besides, I need the chapters I've already finished in case I don't have time to write - which, considering the way college is going, will come true rather soon. Great to hear that you like it so far, thanks again for the review! *huggles*  
**Cestari** - *nods* I know lots of people made the Gollum-Thranduil connection, though I have to admit that I didn't. The thought never entered my mind when I wrote it - I guess I'm a bit slow on the uptake... *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Tychen** - *shakes head helplessly* I know, they SHOULD have learned that, after a light-hearted beginning, something terrible MUST befall them, right? Well, I guess they're a little stupid ... or very naive... *evil grin* I'll do my best to put a bit of all of the above into the story, but it's starting slowly, I guess. I always need some time to come up with enough evil thing to do to our favourite elf and ranger...   
**Grumpy** - I survive only because I could go online at college, sometimes. It's always rather hard to find an unoccupied computer, so I only had time to check my emails - it was horrible! *sobs at mere recollection* LOL, I can just imagine Thranduil forcing Aragorn to pack his bags and stay at the gates till his brothers arrived! He is three sandwiches short of a picknick at the moment, I'll admit that... *g*  
**Firniswin** - Hmm, Wilwarin ... I don't know. I'm thinking about it, and if an opportunity presents itself, I just might. These stories are just in the habit of doing what they want anyway, so I guess I'll have to wait and see. *shrugs* Great to 'see' you, thanks for reviewing! Hope your reviewers didn't threaten you too badly!  
**ThE iNsAnE oNe - **Miki! You're back! Squeeee! *huggles* Uhm, sorry. I usually don't do that. I'm just happy to see that you're back. That's all. *clears throat* Okay then... Well, I'm sorry, but as I said, the twins won't be here in the near future. They will be here, of course, *watches with amusement how Elladan and Elrohir shriek and try to escape*, but a few chapters later. So you're not tall? Really? How tall are you, or is that a secret? I mean, I'm not that tall either, I'm 1.75 m, I don't really know what that's in feet. Not tall, by any means. LOL, indeed, I am a very special person, I survived 13 days without internet. And _of course_ Estel and Legolas attacked the phone company! You could have read it in the papers! "Mysterious lunatics attack Telekom! Two obviously deranged individuals disguised as famous fantasy characters killed more than 235 people and severely injure..." *shrugs* They never figured out I was behind it though! LOL, you're looking for a bew king? What about Hithrawyn? I'm sure he'd make an _excellent_ king... *evil grin* Thanks so much for your huge review! *huggles* Thanks a lot!  
**Suzi9** - *sheepish smile* Well, I DO study history, or classics as you would say I guess, and I HAD this course about Homer last term. It even was about the Odyssey, so you just might be right... *g* And I know what you mean, the metaphors sound very nice in Greek, but translated they can begin to severely annoy you... *g* So you're one of Eva's friends? I think I remember her, has she moved already? I've moved a lot myself, and it does get a little but old after some time... It's nice to know that you liked my weird stories, and lots of luck with your essays! I never liked Ajax, somehow, I don't know why either, but I always loved Medea! Especially the bit in the end with the dragons - I mean, that's cool, isn't it? Iason was an idiot and deserved it anyway... *g*  
**Cicci** - *g* Well, I hope you'll do it and review every single chapter! It's not a problem if you don't, but since I'm addicted to reviews I would be rather happy about it, of course... Thank you for your very nice compliments, I'm very happy to hear that you enjoyed THOM. I had lots of fun writing it myself, especially the cliffies, yes, I admit it. *evil grin* Yes, I always need some time before torturing them within an inch of their lives, I don't know why either. I probably need to get into the 'flow' of the story. *shrugs* Whatever, it might also be that I need to silence the remnants of my conscience. Thanks a lot for your very flattering review, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well!  
**Vampy2k** - Yup, as I said in the A/N, there will be Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel in this story, even though they'll appear a bit later. About the torture: Let's just say that they still have a little time before it gets really bad, okay? Not long, but a few days... *evil grin*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - See? I didn't huggle you, I do remember such things... And don't laugh too hard, I really would hate to lose a reviewer like that. Nope, we can't have that, so no laughing, understood? *threatening look* Good... Well, I hope this was soon enough, and thanks for the review!  
**Mystic Girl1** - Wohoo! Eine review von Mystic Girl! Na, wenn das nichts ist! *g* Ich fuehle mich sehr geehrt, dass du dich entschlossen hast zu de-lurken, das ist doch immer schoen! Und, genaugenommen, schuldest du mir 48 reviews fuer die letzten beiden stories, glaube ich auf jeden Fall, aber ich werde mal nicht so sein. Die hier war ja so gigantisch dass ich mir geradezu schlecht vorkomme, wenn ich in irgendeiner Weise meckere... *g* LOL, ich glaube fuer Thranduil's Wahnsinn braucht man ueberhaupt keine Beweise, die sind zur Genuege vorhanden. Man kann's ihm ja auch nicht unbedingt verdenken, oder? *G* Ich kann mit Elrond richtog gut vorstellen, wie er nach Barad-dûr reist und Sauron anfleht, in eine Weile zur Erholung aufzunehmen... *knuddelt* Vielen Dank fuer deine ueberaus amuesante, ewig lange review! Ist immer wunderbar, so was zu lesen, wie du ja sicher auch weisst!  
**Amelie** - Sure I remeber who you are! *watches her run into walls* How could I ever forget? *g* I didn't only threaten to send Legolas and Aragorn after them, I really did. You would have read about it in the papers, but the bas**** are covering it up. *grrrr* What do you mean, no cliffies in this story? You can't be serious! I mean, come on, no cliffies means no fun! You can't expect me to write something like that! As glad as I would be about another al-purpose-stick, I have to refuse. No cliffies, really... *shakes head* The update was Tuesday after all, but I hope it was still okay. Hmm? Thanks for the review! I'm glad to be back, too!  
**Aratfeniel** - To my shame I have to admit that I thought about Starwars when you said 'everybody's favourite trilogy'. Hmm, to be perfectly honest, I still think that Starwars is my favourite trilogy. LOTR might be a close second though... *shrugs* I'm really not that obsessed with LOTR, not that anyone will believe me, of course... Oh, you broke your wrist? Poor you! I really hope it gets better soon - how can you type with a cast? Is that even possible? *puzzled*  
**Asha Dreamweaver** - LOL, I have to admit that you're quite right. The twins, Estel and Legolas in one place are a certain guarantee for disaster! I really think that Thranduil remained sane for an amazingly long amount of time! I would have gone insane a long time ago! And I don't think that I will reveal too much when I say that no, they don't get to Rivendell. Not that that surprises anyone, right? That would have been far too easy! And about the wouldn't-it-be-easier-to-snatch-Aragorn-thing: First, it just might be - and I don't say that it will *g* - that they're not even together when it happens, and second: Who says that they want Aragorn? With that not so mysterious remark I will leave you now... *fades mysteriously* Thanks for the review!  
**Maranwe1** - In fact it has been even a month and a half. I've been lazy... *hangs head* Sorry. LOL, their "brilliantly eccentric ways lead them into situations normal people would never dare venture into"? Well, most people would call their behaviour simply stupid! *g* Hmm, I think if they were ignoring the danger they would be stupider, even if they realised it sooner. But they haven't realised anything yet, it's only a hunting trip now - but things can always get worse! And since this is my story, they also will go worse! Mhahahaha! *g* Well, the main difference between the Tengwar of Fëanor and the Mode of Beleriand is basically that the first is the older writing system in which the vowels, the tehtar, were placed above the tengwar letters. There are differences between writing Sindarin and writing Quenya, but they're not really important. So, you can use this system for both the languages, while the Mode of Beleriand was developed for Sindarin. Here the vowels are (mostly, all with exceptions of course) represented by tengwar letters. This is what we can see above the gates of Moria, and I think also on the maps in "The Hobit". As you can see, it's not so important. Elrond could use very well either, the first since he's old enough to remember the time when Quenya was being replaced with Sindarin as the main elven tongue, but the second as well since it's essentially a writing system for Sindarin. It's one of the things only freaks like myself would even notice. *shrugs*   
**Maerz** - Schon klar dass du One15 bist, DEN Auftritt haette ich ueberall wiedererkannt... *g* Und nein, sich mal melden kann nicht schaden, denn damit zeigt man dem Autor, dass man ihn (oder sie) mag und ermutigt ihn (oder sie *g*) weiterzuschreiben und... *dunkler Blick* War das deutlich genug? LOL, J/k, schoen, dich mal wiederzusehen. Ich mag den neuen sn, und keine Angst, Legolas' Pferd gibt's auch noch. Er kommt sogar noch mal vor. *g* Danke fuer's sich-melden!  
**Strider's Girl** - Uh, your GCSEs? Poor you - most people I know weren't too happy when they had to take them - you people have WAY too many exams if you ask me... *g* I wish you all the luck there is in the world (except mine since it's always bad), and I understand of course that you have other things to do than review weird things as this one. Once again, good luck and I hope you'll enjoy the coming chapters as well! Thanks for reviewing, it's great to 'see' you again!  
**Seveawen** - You could say so, I am indeed back. *g* I'm happy to 'see' you too. And I totally see what you mean, my friends and I are just the same. Which is really rather bad, since we're supposed to be adults. *g* It's great to see that you're back to your usual, insane self, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Zam** - Zam! Orc horde! I missed you! *huggles all of them* It's so great to have you back! Once again, I'm sorry that I missed Lina's birthday. I really hope she's not angry, and I hope she got that email I sent her as soon as I read your review!? If not, tell her Happy Birthday, will you? Thanks. *giggles* No, it's not blood, what you people think, really... *sighs and grabs her shirt* Here we go again! Stop it! Will you stop shocking my characters, for crying out loud! They may be elves, but that just can't be healthy! *huggles Zam* I really missed you and Snikdul and all the others! Great to 'see' you again!  
**Fantasia3** - Yeah, I admit it. I am addicted to reviews. They should have a warning on the homepage or something - it happened quicker than I thought possible! It's worse than cocaine, I'm telling you! *g* Well, you are right, the first chapter was probably a little bit not-straight-to-the-point. I guess one excuse would be that I needed to repeat and explain a lot of things, but I guess the truth that that's just my writing style. Mostly, I can't get to the point easily, I'm trying to work on it, but I don't think I'm making any progress. *shrugs* Whatever. Thanks for telling me though!   
**Leggylover03** - Great you liked the first chapter! Unfortunately, you will have to wait for Aragorn-pain and all the other things you crave (and don't try to deny it) till chapter 3/4. Sorry. I hope this update was fast enough -I doubt it though!  
**Port** - Yeah, the poor statue. They're vandals, aren't they? *blushes* Thanks for your compliments! It's nice to hear that you liked my previous stories - even despite their weirdness - and I truly hope you'll enjoy this one as well. I'm always rather self-conscious when posting new stories, I'm always afraid they're not as good as the others... *shrugs* We'll have to wait and see, I guess. Thanks a lot for your very flattering review!  
**Elenora** - Well, first thank you for your wonderful long email! It's always nice to get such long and wonderful feedback... And I have to admit that one never gets tired of hearing such things, trust me! *g* You can just keep saying them, I really don't mind... Hmm, no, English is not my first language. That would be German, which is an ugly language, don't tell me. I started Latin when I was ten, then English when I was twelve, and then Ancient Greek with fifteen. I could have chosen French instead, but I love Latin and so I didn't. Besides, I get in a car, drive six hours and am in France anyway, so if I want to learn French I'll just go and live there for a while. *shrugs* I never regretted my choice. And yes, I am absolutely sure I don't mind if you point out flaws and mistakes and poor grammar and other things like that, because I really think it's worse if I write something which is horribly wrong and no-one tells me. And if no-one tells me, I'll just keep doing it, and then one day somebody will laugh me in the face for saying something terribly stupid. *stops to read what she's just written* I'm ranting, great... See, that cynic/cynical thing is a wonderful example! I knew it was wrong, and I looked it up in the dictionary, and that stupid book said it was alright! Of course it is not, and I knew it was not, but I would have continued using it since the dictionary said it and who am I to challenge the dictionary? If I ever decide to get a beta, I will most certainly think of you, but somehow I never feel comfortable with letting people read what I've written before I post it. I'm weird, don't tell me, but I am. *huggles her* Thanks so much for your wonderful email, it's such an ego-booster! Really, it is! I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as well!  
**ShortRedHead28** - Well, you just _might_ be right. About the cliffies, I mean. There isn't one in this chapter, but I won't say anything about the next chapter! *evil cackle* It's very nice to hear that my stories keep you guessing - I always try not to make them too predictable. Thanks for telling me that they're not!  
**TrustingFriendship** - I think so too! I mean, I don't understand why Legolas doesn't like his nickname - it could be worse after all! I'm sure the twins would be able to come up with something much worse if asked... *g* As I said in the A/N, the twins will be here, not as much as in AEFAE, but they will be here. Promise. *huggles* Great to have you back!  
**Jack Sparrow87** - *blushes* Well, thank you! I tried to update as soon as possible, but from my own experience I know that that is never soon enough. *g* Well, I tried. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Aurienia** - Hey! You! Nice to 'see' you again! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much, and I'm sure Thranduil will calm down again. *reads next few chapters* Hmm, then again, he might not. *evil grin* No need to apologise at all, I know how busy life can become all of the sudden. And never fear, I would never stop a story in the middle - I'm too much of a perfectionist to do that! It's very nice to see that you still like my insane little stories - thanks for reviewing again!  
  
**Jeez, I had forgotten how long you need to reply to all the reviews... *hastily* I don't mind though, really! Thanks a lot for all the wonderful support!  
  
  
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	3. Unexpected Obstacles

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Hi guys, I'm really sorry for keeping you waiting, but... *ducks blunt objects, a hail of arrows and a random, rather startled-looking balrog* Jeez, you're not exactly what one would call 'understanding', are you? *g*  
  
Well, as I said, I'm sorry, honestly. I wanted to post this Saturday or Sunday, but several things prevented me from doing so, among them an evil college paper from hell and the fact that some friends decided to drop in to watch "Matrix: Revolutions" with me on Saturday. I won't say anything about the movie which caused me to nearly die laughing once or twice, even though I don't think that that was the directors' intention - but it is of course debatable what the directors' intention _was_ apart from demonstrating that Keanu Reeves, pretty as he may be, possesses not an ounce of acting ability, but the paper is finished so I can go on with my weird life. *g* Yay Nili.**  
  
**It's great to hear that you like the betting pool, but I am afraid that I can't accept any bets. Anardir would kill me since he has the monopoly for things like that - you know how touchy elves can get... *g* And I see that the CLF has reared its ugly head again - you should know that this time I don't intend to let myself be intimidated! *shakes fist* I can kill who I want, and that includes Celylith!! *several readers start looking for sharp, pointy objects* It's not that I mean to or anything, really. *hastily* I was just babbling... *g*  
  
  
Okay, here is chapter 3, in which Aragorn annoys Galalith even more, Anardir finds out exactly how doomed he is, Legolas has a _brilliant_ idea and everybody's favourite question, namely who will win the bet, will be answered. Oh, and there is that little thing at the end, what's it called again ... climber ... cluster ... cliffy! *beams* Yes, that was it!  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3  
  
  
As Aragorn had predicted, Celylith was not happy.  
  
He didn't say anything in front of Anardir or the rest of the warriors, knowing full well that it was not his place to criticise his prince for his actions in public. But still, discontent and reproach rolled off the silver haired elf in waves, and when Legolas offered to get the horses that had spent the night in a smaller clearing under the watchful eyes of a guard about a five minutes' walk away from their campsite, he rose and offered to accompany him, or he told him he would be accompanying him, that was closer to the truth.  
  
Legolas had only inclined his head, apparently resigning himself to his fate, and the two of them had left the camp, either ignoring or oblivious to the amused glances they received from the rest of their small troupe. Aragorn's ears, although keen for a human, were not sharp enough to hear what Celylith told his friend, but judging from the barely suppressed grins that each and every one of the warriors wore, it had to be memorable.  
  
The young ranger simply leant back against a large oak tree and didn't even bother to try and hide his amusement. He imagined Legolas was just receiving the Things-a-proper-elf-lord-never-does-speech, the one Glorfindel loved so much as well. He had been present once or twice when the golden haired elf had lectured the Lord of Rivendell thus and had enjoyed the look of chagrined acceptance on his father's face more than he would care to admit. His brothers and he himself had heard it more than once themselves, from more than one person one might add.   
  
But only now he was beginning to understand why Glorfindel enjoyed giving that particular speech. There was nothing as satisfying as knowing that someone – other than oneself, of course – was being lectured about his or her misconduct, and the fact that that someone was Legolas and that he actually deserved it made the whole thing only sweeter.  
  
Aragorn grinned broadly. Indeed, Legolas had been very foolish to wander around Mirkwood alone, and at night at that! What a perfectly reckless elf…  
  
He was so focused on his self-satisfied musings that he didn't hear that someone addressed him, and only when a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him slightly he looked up, straight into the rather annoyed face of Galalith.  
  
"Pardon me?"   
  
The elf resisted the urge to roll his eyes, the sparse sunlight lending his long dark hair red highlights.  
"I asked you to get up and help me pack up the tent. It is yours, after all."  
  
Aragorn grinned at the elf and slowly got to his feet. He had only known him a day, but he was already beginning to like him a lot. Contrary to his best friend Anardir who always seemed to be worried by something, Galalith was a cheerful and merry person, and he reminded the man of his elven brothers. Which, he thought dryly, would not exactly be considered a compliment by most people.  
  
"It is not mine," he told the dark haired elf, but followed him obediently to where the small beige tent was still pitched. "Legolas got it from somewhere, I don't even know from where. If it were mine, it wouldn't be that abominable colour."  
  
"It is probably a good thing you don't know from where it comes," the elf retorted and stopped in front of the tent. "It is always best not to ask from where the prince gets all these things." He paused and turned to look at the man. "And what do you mean, 'abominable colour'? What is wrong with it?"  
  
The ranger threw the front flap to the side and quickly rolled up his sleeping mat. Grabbing his other possessions, he crawled back out and deposited them at the foot of a nearby tree before turning unbelieving eyes on the other.  
"What do you mean, 'what's wrong with it'? Well, everything! Just look at it, it is beige, and there is even a little green and that horrible brownish colour…"  
  
"Green and brown, human, are the colours of Mirkwood," Galalith informed him frostily. "What colour would you chose for a tent, then?"  
  
"White," the man answered promptly. "Especially for the winter. Otherwise, I would choose…"  
  
"Ah," Galalith held up his hand, interrupting the young man. "Don't tell me. You would choose …. grey."  
  
"How did you know?" Aragorn asked in mock surprise and grabbed a tent pole to pull it out of the ground, motioning to the elf to do the same.  
  
"'Twas not too hard to guess, ranger," the dark haired elf grinned. "You are from Rivendell, after all. All you Noldor wear is grey and white and a little black … boring."  
  
"Boring?" the man asked, flabbergasted. "A person who spends his life wearing _brown _tells me I am dressing in boring colours?"   
  
Galalith obviously wanted to retort something, but before he had even opened his mouth, Aragorn had jumped forwards, quickly grabbing the elf's arm when he was just about to pull out literally the only tent pole that would have sent the entire construction to the ground in a tangled heap.  
  
"Don't!" Aragorn exclaimed, looking at the other in surprise. "Not this one!"  
  
"And why not?" Galalith asked in annoyance.   
  
"Because this is the important, supporting pole. Honestly, have you never pitched a tent in your life?"  
  
"No," the elf replied curtly, quickly checking if anyone was watching them, which was not the case, to his relief. "I have never had the need. I'm…"  
  
"…an elf and therefore you don't need tents," Aragorn finished the sentence tiredly. "Yes, I know." He ignored the dark haired elf's dark and rather annoyed expression and pointed at another tent pole in front of them. "This one. And then this, this, and this one. Alright?"  
  
Galalith merely shot him a scathing glare and grabbed the pole, pulling it out of the ground in one move.  
"Yes. I am not a moron, Strider."  
  
Aragorn began to grin as he helped remove the poles and strings that kept the small tent upright.  
"For a minute, Master Elf, you really had me fooled…"  
  
The elf's expression darkened even further and he pointedly ran a thumb over the roughly tipped point of the pole he had just pulled out of the earth.  
"Go on, Master Human, please."  
  
"I had nothing more to say, Master Galalith," the young ranger assured the elf and knelt down to roll up the canvas. "Everything of importance has already been said, I believe."  
  
The elf looked up from where he was tying the poles together with a length of cord.  
"Has anyone ever told you that you are _incredibly _annoying, Estel?"  
  
"Several people," Aragorn nodded, an innocent and confused expression on his face as he stuffed the billowing fabric into a large, coarsely woven bag. "I don't know why either. Perhaps you can enlighten me?"  
  
Galalith didn't answer, but several low mumbles that the human quickly identified as rather nasty Dwarvish curses could be heard. Aragorn listened attentively, always willing to learn more about foreign languages, and so it came that they really managed to pack up the tent without any more bickering.  
  
Deciding that it was probably best to ignore the mumbling elf, Aragorn took up the bag and his bedroll and brought them over to the fire, depositing them on the snowy ground. Next to the campfire stood Anardir who had apparently just been in conversation with another elf whose name the young man couldn't presently remember. The other members of their small troupe were scattered all around the small clearing, talking to each other or making last preparations while they waited for their horses to arrive.  
  
Aragorn gave the blonde elf a polite nod and stepped closer.  
"Anardir. Are you well?"  
  
Anardir gave the ranger a mildly suspicious look, asking himself if Galalith had talked with him about what he had said yesterday evening.  
"Thank you, Strider. I am indeed well." He nodded at the elf next to him. "We were just talking about which route to take back to the palace."  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes, trying to remember where exactly they had to be.  
"If my estimation is correct, there are only two ways: First, to the north and then along the Forest River, or to the south until we reach the road."  
  
The golden haired elf bowed his head.  
"You are correct, Strider. Personally, I would like to take the northern road; this way we can check on the river and see how thick the ice is up here. Around the palace it is always thinner, and it would be nice to know when we will be able to take up our travels to Lake-town again."  
  
The young human did his best to hide a broad smile. Anardir was indeed sounding as if getting away from the palace was the first and foremost thing on his mind, and when he was completely honest, he couldn't even blame him. Life in Mirkwood had been very … stressful for many people lately. But on the other hand, he reasoned, it had been a lot more interesting as well. That was a point most people tended to neglect.  
  
"I am sure Legolas wouldn't mind doing so," he shrugged. "Taking the road might be slightly swifter, but we will be back before nightfall either way, so it doesn't really matter."  
  
"I agree," Anardir nodded, smiling somewhat hesitantly at the man. "The prince would probably not mind, but on second thought…"  
  
Aragorn cocked his head to the side, eyeing Anardir quizzically and frowning slightly when he saw that the nameless elf was beginning to grin knowingly.   
"But on second thought what?"  
  
"The road is … safer," Anardir explained slowly. "There are … other elves who are stationed close-by, just in case we need their aid…"  
  
"Why would we need their aid?" the man asked, obviously puzzled.   
  
The blonde elf narrowed his eyes, his back stiffening unconsciously.  
"One can never know…"  
  
Aragorn shook his head, apparently dismissing the other's concern as unfounded.  
"Everything has gone well until now, has it not? I'm sure we won't need anyone's aid, and travelling along the river sounds like a good idea."  
  
At this moment Legolas and Celylith appeared at the far side of the clearing, a number of elven horses dutifully trailing behind them; the elf who had been guarding them during the night was walking next to them. Aragorn turned back to Anardir and the other elf, giving them a bright smile that was probably meant to be reassuring.  
  
"Do not worry, Anardir," he told the elf. "What could possibly happen?"  
  
Giving both of them a nod, he turned back around and quickly disappeared into the direction of the horses, leaving the two elves behind. Anardir looked at his companion with incredulously raised eyebrows, blinking rapidly.  
  
"Did he really just say that?" he asked the other elf. "It was my imagination, wasn't it?"  
  
"No, _mellon nín_," the other answered in a grave voice. "He said it."  
  
"'What could possibly happen'? 'What could possibly _happen_'??" Anardir repeated loudly, staring at the figure of the ranger who had reached his friends' side by now.   
  
"To say that out loud is an invitation," the other nodded.  
  
"Indeed," Anardir agreed and hung his head again, ignoring the small voice in his head that told him that he would end up with a neck like a swan if he didn't stop that soon. "We are doomed."  
  
"As you know I am usually an optimistic person, my friend," the other elf said, shaking his head sadly, "But this time I think you are correct: We are doomed."  
  
Anardir nodded hopelessly.   
"How very nice to know that we agree on this, my friend."  
  
The other clapped him on the back, a gesture that, if it had been meant in an encouraging way, produced no effect whatsoever.  
"Have faith, Anardir. It could be much worse."  
  
Anardir shook his head and stared at the other incredulously, not even able to say a single word as he watched him follow the young ranger over to the horses. Slowly, as if he had forgotten how to, he began to move and gave a low whistle to catch his horse's attention. He was still shaking his head when a big, chestnut brown steed broke away from the other animals and trotted up to him.  
  
'Oh, it could be much worse,' he thought inwardly as he began to load his gear onto his horse, 'And it will be much worse. Much, much worse.'  
  
That was the one rule one could always rely on, a fact he had learned a long time ago.  
  
  
  
  
Celylith was eyeing his prince with the eyes of a hawk, looking for any signs that might support his theory.   
  
Right now, he thought, he was probably looking more like an anxious mother hawk that was watching its offspring that was still far from fully fledged perch on the edge of the nest, preparing to try and fly.  
  
He unwillingly shook his head and banished that thought from his mind. He strongly denied that he was in any way over-protective of Legolas or any of his other friends, and that comparison was nothing he would have approved of under normal circumstances.  
  
But, he admitted tiredly, when travelling with Legolas or Aragorn and _especially _when travelling with both of them there was no such thing as "normal circumstances". And right now, every time he looked at his childhood friend, he had to resist the urge to close his eyes and hide in the forest, because there it was: The familiar gleam in Legolas' eyes that very clearly said that he was planning something, something that most people would have described as either foolish, dangerous, stupid, reckless or unbefitting his rank. Or as all of it, and when that was the case, it was usually wiser to seek cover as soon as possible.  
  
Celylith decided that he could risk taking his eyes off the fair haired elf long enough to give Estel a cursory glance, who was right about now immersed in a lively conversation with another warrior a few feet to his left. This time, he concluded after a few seconds, he was rather sure that the young ranger hadn't even the slightest clue what this was about either, even though he too had apparently noticed that Legolas' behaviour was slightly … off, for a lack of a better term.  
  
No, Aragorn didn't know anything either, which was a tiny ray of hope. If both of them were planning something, all of them would be doomed.  
  
The silver haired elf returned his eyes to the figure of his prince, dark blue eyes narrowing slightly as he studied him closely. Right now Legolas was riding in front of their troupe and talking to Anardir about something connected with the trade with the Lake-men, he believed, and any random observer would have stated that he looked like the most innocent elf on Arda.  
  
He knew that to be untrue, very simply because Legolas never looked this innocent _unless _he was planning something; in fact, he always looked rather guilty when he was in truth innocent, something that made it rather hard to judge the veracity of his statements for people who didn't know him well. But Celylith had known him ever since they had both decided that obeying their nursemaids was boring and that wandering around the palace unattended was much more fun as very young elflings, and he knew when Legolas was up to no good.  
  
But try as he might, he just couldn't think of anything that his friend might be planning. They had left the campsite a few hours ago, after Legolas had decided that they would indeed take the slightly longer route alongside the river, something that none of them really minded. A ride alongside the Forest River at this time of year was always beautiful, and as long as they did get back to the palace before nightfall, no-one at home would care either.  
  
The ride had been uneventful until now, but Celylith hadn't missed the looks of fear and dread that Anardir and a few of the older warriors were beginning to give their surroundings, as if all of them were expecting an unknown foe to burst through the trees at any given moment. Not that he could really blame them, since the last two times he had gone somewhere in the company of either Legolas or Aragorn (or both) he had nearly been cut into pieces, shot, poisoned and generally almost killed in every conceivable way.   
  
No, he really did not know what Legolas was thinking about, and, on second thought, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to either, but ever since the blonde prince had laid eyes on the frozen river, that … sparkle could be seen in his eyes, and Celylith had seen it often enough to know what it meant: Trouble.  
  
Celylith was so immersed in his musings that he was surprised when the company suddenly slowed and then stopped, causing him to nearly bump into the warrior riding in front of him. In fact, he would have done it had it not been for his horse, which skidded to a halt and let the elf know of its discontentment immediately by shaking its head unwillingly and giving a short, annoyed neighing.  
  
The silver haired elf looked up, inwardly vowing to somehow make it up to the animal later, and saw all his suspicions confirmed when he saw where they were. He didn't really know what it meant that they had stopped here, but he was sure that it was not good.   
  
Their group had stopped at a fork in the small path they were following next to the river bed; both paths were quickly disappearing in the thick forest all around them. The right path would lead them back to the palace while the left wound through a small copse of trees until it reached the water's edge. This was one of the spots where the woods reached right up to the river so that one didn't have enough space to ride directly next to it.  
  
Celylith narrowed his eyes yet again. He knew this place…  
  
"But my lord!" Anardir's nearly desperate voice sounded at the front, bringing Celylith out of his reverie, and he quickly began to move his horse to his friends' side.  
  
He reached them just in time to see Legolas give the golden haired elf a patient look.   
"There is no need for all of us to remain here, Anardir. You wanted to see how thick the ice really is, so I think it would be prudent to actually have a look."  
  
Anardir shook his head, obviously not convinced.  
"We don't need to go down there to see that, your Highness. We can do it just as easily by looking at it from a distance! You cannot send my men back and remain here alone!"  
  
"I will not be alone," Legolas shook his head, looking as if he were reasoning with a headstrong, not so very bright child. "Estel will stay, as will Captain Celylith."  
  
"Oh, I see!" Anardir exclaimed, obviously suppressing the urge to throw his hands up in the air. "That changes _everything_, of course!"  
  
Celylith frowned. He was in fact rather sure that he had never before heard someone put so much sarcasm into a single sentence.  
  
Legolas either hadn't noticed that the other's voice was positively dripping with sarcasm – something that Celylith thought highly improbable – or he wisely chose to ignore it.  
"The others will return to the palace with the quarry, and we will stay for a little while to have a look at the river." He smiled somewhat sadly when the other kept shaking his head no the entire time, and added so softly that only Anardir could hear him, "Don't make me order you, my friend, because you know I will."  
  
The golden haired elf looked at the determined face of his prince and ground his teeth after a second when he realised that Legolas wouldn't back down an inch from his position.   
"As you wish, my lord," he finally managed past clenched teeth, giving Galalith a sign to join them. "Galalith will lead them back home, and I will stay here."  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow.  
"_Mellon nín_, you do not have to…"  
  
"Oh yes," Anardir nodded firmly. "I have to. I am responsible for you, your Highness, and I will not return to the king bearing the news that I left you somewhere by the Forest River, alone. I will stay."  
  
The elven prince gave him a long look before he finally bowed his head slightly.  
"Very well."  
  
Anardir gave a curt nod, and a few moments later most of the other elves had already ridden on, even though most of them sported rather doubtful expressions. Galalith still remained, looking at the three elves and the human in front of him with wide eyes.  
"My lord, are you sure this is such a good idea?"  
  
Legolas merely nodded, slightly exasperatedly, and Aragorn grinned at the dark haired elf. He didn't know what Legolas was planning, but he knew that look on his elven friend's face. If he knew anything about the elf at all, this was going to be fun.  
  
"Do not worry, Galalith," he assured the obviously rather distraught elf, "We will look after him. Nothing will happen, trust me."  
  
Galalith's green eyes narrowed so far that one could barely tell whether they were still open, elven eyes or not. All Aragorn received for an answer was a scathing glare that should have killed the ranger on the spot, and with a rather cold nod into Legolas' and Celylith's direction the elf turned his horse and followed the rest of the troupe.  
  
They remained where they were for a while, their eyes following the lone figure of the rider until he disappeared round a bend in the path and vanished from sight. After a few more moments Legolas looked up, silver-blue eyes gleaming mischievously.  
  
"Wonderful," he declared and grinned at his companions, ignoring the way Anardir looked at him in disapproval, "Let's go then, shall we?"  
  
He turned his white horse and headed down the path to the left, trusting that the other would follow him which they did, after one or two seconds. Aragorn was the first to reach the blonde elf's side, and he looked at him questioningly, one eyebrow arched in amusement and confusion.  
  
"What is it you are up to, my friend?" he asked, studying the other's emotionless face closely. "What is at the end of this road?"  
  
"Why, Estel," Legolas began, surprise written on his disconcertingly innocent face. "The river, of course."  
  
"Of course," Aragorn agreed in mock seriousness. "And other than that?"  
  
"I have no idea what you are talking about, my friend," the elf shook his head, as if hurt by the human's apparent doubts. "What else should there be?"  
  
Before Aragorn could retort something, Anardir closed the distance that lay between them and looked at his prince with wide, disbelieving eyes.  
"Oh, please tell me you are not thinking about it, your Highness!"  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking at the golden haired elf as if he had just told him he was in reality an orc in disguise.  
"Thinking about what, Anardir? You really need to specify a little…"  
  
Anardir shot the elven prince a look so dark that it would even have impressed his liege and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off immediately by Celylith's voice, sounding torn between anticipation and disapproval.  
"Oh no, Legolas. This is not a good idea. In fact, it is an exceptionally bad idea. A very, very bad idea, to be perfectly precise."  
  
"Come now, my friends!" Legolas exclaimed with a slightly annoyed undertone in his voice. "You don't even know what I'm thinking about and yet you criticise me!"  
  
"We are not criticising you, my lord," Anardir shook his head, not willing to rise to the other's bait. "We are merely telling you that it is _not _a good idea."   
  
"What?" Aragorn exclaimed, looking from one elven face to the next in confusion. "That what isn't a good idea? What are all of you talking about?"  
  
"Let me tell you what is at the end of this path, Master Human," Anardir turned to look at the human's confused face. "There is the river, yes, but next to it there is a shed, and in this shed we keep the sledges that are not needed right now. The big sledges which we use to transport the barrels back to Esgaroth."  
  
The confusion on the ranger's face slowly made way to understanding, and then to anticipation and excitement.  
"Oh!" he said, trying to keep these feelings out of his voice. "Oh, I see!"  
  
"I seriously doubt that," Anardir grumbled in a low voice. "The sledges are not easy to steer even for those who use them often, and if you don't know what you're doing you might very well end up with a few broken bones. Or," he added, giving the others dark looks, "a broken neck."  
  
"Oh, come now, my friend," Legolas exclaimed, turning back to the blonde elf and giving him a bright smile. "They are not that bad, and I promised Estel that I would show them to him this year. And since the twins will be arriving in a few days, this is most likely the last chance we are going to get."  
  
"You could show him next year," Celylith suggested carefully. Truth to be told, he was looking forward to a little ride on the sledges himself, but everything inside of him screamed in panic when he imagined Aragorn and Legolas on such a vehicle. "Or the year after the next. Or at any point when the two of you have reached a certain degree of maturity."  
  
Neither of the two replied to that, but when Legolas and Aragorn traded a look and grinned at each other, Celylith knew that that had been exactly the wrong thing to say. He shook his head and tried to push the voice of caution to the back of his mind that was nearly having a fit inside his skull. So what, a little ride wouldn't hurt them, would it?  
  
"Alright," the silver haired elf relented. "But I want my own sledge. I refuse to be on the same one as either of you."  
  
"A very wise precaution, sir," Anardir grumbled. "I for my part will not set foot on the ice. One of us has to inform the king of your demise, after all."  
  
"You are far too pessimistic," Legolas shook his head, his keen eyes already able to see the end of the small wood they were riding through at the moment. "This will be fun, believe me."  
  
He spurred on his horse and raced down the path, long hair streaming behind him. Aragorn and Celylith merely looked at each other, shrugged and quickly followed him, already bickering about who would get which sledge.   
  
Anardir was left to look at their retreating backs and shake his head in dismay.  
  
"Fun," he mumbled as he slowly followed the three young beings. "Fun, of course."  
  
  
  
  
About an hour later, all doubts that had ever been in Aragorn's mind about Legolas' newest endeavour had vanished as if they had never existed.   
  
No, he vowed to himself, he would never again doubt his elven friend when he claimed that something was fun, well, that excluded sleeping in trees. Sleeping anywhere high above the ground where there was always the possibility of free-falling a few dozen feet was not his idea of a lot of fun, thank you very much, no matter how much Legolas, Celylith and even his brothers claimed that there was no better place to spend the night.  
  
Aragorn grinned and pulled his sledge slightly to the side, grinning even more broadly when he heard an outraged shout when he cut right through the path Celylith's sledge was taking, nearly causing the silver haired elf to collide with him. Only the elf's quick reflexes saved him and his sledge, and when the young ranger pulled his vehicle back towards the middle of the frozen river, he heard a string of vicious cursing behind him that bore witness to Celylith's reaction that was none too favourable indeed.  
  
Legolas had been right, the man thought, smiling blissfully as the wind whipped his hair to the side and reddened his cheeks. This was the most fun he had had in quite a long time, and that meant quite a lot in his opinion since he had had _a lot _of fun since he had been allowed to leave Mirkwood's healing wing.  
  
A flash of long blonde hair and a dark brown coat crossed his vision, and he looked to the side just in time to avoid Legolas who had manoeuvred his sledge next to his, moving at an incredibly high speed. The sledges were the smallest they had been able to find, were lightly built and, when one had figured out how to do it, not that hard to control after all. They had found out that the ice was very slippery right now and largely snow-free since it hadn't snowed for quite some time, and so even the smallest run-up produced a rather impressive result. Aragorn was sure that he had been speeding across the ice for a few minutes now without losing a sizable part of his velocity.  
  
"Everything alright, Strider?" the elven prince laughed, grinning at his human friend with childlike joy. He had indeed forgotten how much fun this was, and to see Anardir wince every time they almost collided made everything even more enjoyable, in an evil sort of way.  
  
Aragorn grinned back, pulling at one of the cords that were attached to the front axis of his sledge and shifting his weight to the left to make his vehicle describe a wide, graceful semi-circle.  
"Of course! Celylith doesn't sound too happy though!"  
  
"See?" Legolas shouted back and mimicked his friend's actions, following him closely. "Even you stubborn humans are able to learn how to use a sledge…"   
  
Aragorn merely scowled at the elf and headed back to where they had left Celylith. Legolas had been most annoying in the beginning and had been behaving as if he were a child that was really too young for something as "dangerous" as a sledge…  
  
  
_"And you have to pull here to change directions, understood?" Legolas looked at the young ranger, regarding him as if the mechanics of an elven sledge were beyond his ability to comprehend. "You have to pull on the right one to go right and on the left one to go left."  
  
"No!" Aragorn exclaimed in mock surprise, looking at the elf with wide, astonished eyes. "Really? I don't have to pull on the left one to go right and on the right one to go left? The firstborn truly create the most amazing things!"  
  
The elven prince glared at the man, doing his best to ignore the barely muffled snickers from Celylith's and Anardir's direction.  
"I was simply trying to help."  
  
"No," Aragorn shook his head. "You were assuming that I have the intelligence and motor abilities of a five-year-old child. Again."  
  
"And your point is what exactly?" the fair haired elf shot back, smiling wickedly when the ranger's face darkened and he glared heatedly at him. "Besides, that is not true. I do not believe that you have the intelligence of a five-year-old child."  
  
"Four years would be more adequate," Celylith chimed in, looking up from where he was examining his own sledge. "And I wasn't aware that you had any motor abilities at all…"  
  
"Those are words I wouldn't say if I were you, Master Who-will-soon-find-himself-face-first-in-a-snow-drift," Aragorn shot back, tugging at the strings of his sledge to pull it towards the glistering, frozen surface of the forest river.   
  
The ice was simply begging to be set foot on, and ever since they had dismounted and unlocked the shed that held the sledges he had been waiting for this moment. It was very much like all the times he had skated with his elven brother home in Rivendell as a child, he decided after a moment when he had nearly reached the gleaming ice. As a young boy he had been fascinated with ice and snow, even though it always brought painfully to his attention that he was no elf and couldn't walk on top of snow – or that ice that easily endured the weight of several elves could splinter under his.  
  
Aragorn carefully pulled the sledge onto the ice, mindful to stay on the snow-covered ground that offered at least some support and not to come too close to the gleaming metal runners, and was just about to turn around when he heard a soft, crunching noise, something that even his keen, elven-trained senses would nearly have missed.  
  
He cursed inwardly and barely managed to turn around half-way when something slammed into his back and threw him face first into the snow. The young ranger spluttered angrily and spit out a mouthful of cold snow, and when he heard a clear, pealing laugh he knew who or what had just tackled him.  
  
"Well, Master Who-currently-**is**-face-first-in-a-snow-drift," Legolas' voice teased, still chuckling softly, "It appears that you still have a lot to learn about how to avoid attacks."  
  
Aragorn wiped several layers of snow out of his eyes and turned onto his back, blinking up at the tall figure of his grinning friend who stood lightly in front of him on top of the snow.  
  
"There is no other race as rude or as sneaky as the Elves," he declared with a disgusted shake of his head. He slowly stood to his feet, beginning to grin wickedly when he saw Legolas back away a few steps. "I will get you for this."  
  
"Will you now, human?" Legolas teased and was on his sledge in a fraction of a second. "You will have to catch me first!"  
  
Aragorn watched the elf speed away and quickly moved over to his own sledge, gripping the carved handholds tightly as he began to follow his friend, his movements still a bit awkward and overly careful to avoid slipping.  
"Oh, I will, elf, trust me on this!"_  
  
  
Well, to be perfectly honest, Aragorn shrugged, he hadn't exactly got him, not yet anyway. Legolas was simply too fast and too experienced on a sledge to be caught easily, but he wouldn't give up. Sometimes – now being one of them – the elf's over-protective behaviour really got on his nerves, and it appeared that his friend needed to be taught that he was far from young and was more than capable to look after himself, and that included steering a sledge.  
  
He pulled his sledge a little to the left to avoid a large rock that protruded from the ice, somehow looking as if it had been surprised by the encroaching frost and been overwhelmed before it had had a chance to flee. The young man was just looking over his shoulder to see where his friends were when a colourful blur sped past him, giving a short, evil laugh while doing so.  
  
Aragorn didn't even need to give the sledge that had just overtaken him a second glance to know who it had been: Legolas, because only he could laugh like that. Besides, there were only two persons with him on the ice, and since Celylith should be somewhere behind him by now it really wasn't that hard to guess.  
  
His conclusions were confirmed when the person on the sledge turned around slightly and grinned at him, blonde hair flying wildly around his head.  
"So, what was all this about you getting me for some thing or other?"  
  
"Oh, just you wait," Aragorn grumbled, quite audible for his elven friend even above the howling of the wind, and quickly kicked out with a leg to accelerate again, already in hot pursuit of the elf.   
  
Within a few seconds he was alongside the elf, and if not for Legolas' quick reflexes, they would have surely have collided – something that would probably have given poor Anardir a heart attack, Legolas mused amusedly while he evaded to the left. The golden haired elf was watching the proceedings with wide eyes – even though it was rather obvious that he did have no real wish to witness any of this – and was wincing almost continuously, something that just couldn't be healthy even for an elf.  
  
"If you would just stay in one spot and face me like an elf all this would be a lot easier!" Aragorn's laughing voice complained, and Legolas looked back at him, eyes gleaming with mischief and joy.  
  
Before the man even had enough time to blink, Legolas quickly steered his sledge back towards the right, and the wooden construction collided with Aragorn's vehicle with a sharp crack. For a few moments, the two sledges were fused together while their riders battled to pull them apart again, and Legolas had to grab the wooden handholds tightly to prevent himself from sliding off his vehicle. A Elbereth, Aragorn's face was priceless!  
  
"Are you planning to scare me to death or is it just a strange side product of your questionable humour?" the man inquired while he sharply jerked his sledge to the side in an attempt to separate both of them, inwardly marvelling at the lightness of the sledges that allowed them to move at such an impressive speed even after such a collision.   
  
He took a deep breath and tried to get his heart under control that was thumping inside his chest so loudly that he asked himself if Legolas was able to hear it as well. That little trick had surprised him to be honest, just a little bit of course.  
"Just always remember what my brothers will say when they arrive here and find me dead because of you!" he added, shifting his weight to the right to disentangle his sledge from Legolas'.   
  
The elf merely snorted and jerked his sledge to the side in the exact same moment Aragorn did the same, and with a cracking, mildly tearing sound they broke apart. He flashed the ranger a smile when both of them accelerated again, describing a wide circle to the right to return to their friends.  
  
"If I have learned one thing, _dúnadan_, it is that it takes a lot more than this to kill you!" His smile turned into a grin, and he added, "Unfortunately, and the Valar know I have tried."  
  
"Oh yes, I can vouch for that!"  
  
Legolas smiled at his friend's wry voice and accelerated a little. He would be damned if he let himself be caught by a human, Númenórean blood or not. He looked over his shoulder to see how far behind him Aragorn was – merely a few yards, not that bad for a beginner – and when he turned around again he saw something he had missed when they had passed this spot earlier: A fallen tree that was protruding from the ice.  
  
From the looks of it, the tree had been struck by lightning, probably in one of the winter storms that had been rather fierce this year, and had fallen into the river when it had already been frozen over. Half of it had crashed through the ice, and the tree had frozen in this position, one half beneath and one half above the surface.  
  
Legolas pulled on the cord that was attached to the left side of his front axis, and his sledge obediently turned to the left, describing a wide, graceful arc. The blonde elf grinned; it had taken him about two hundred years to perfect that manoeuvre. He fully expected Aragorn to do the same and didn't even look behind him to check if the man was following, and therefore was rather surprised by his human friend's rather pressed sounding voice that reached his ears clearly even above the loud howling of the wind.  
  
"Oh no."  
  
The elven prince turned, now only a few dozen feet away from the fallen log himself, and looked at the human with wide, unbelieving eyes when he realised that he had done nothing to change his course.  
  
"Aragorn! What are you doing?"  
  
"I can't do anything, that's the problem!" the ranger shot back, looking up at his friend, something like quickly controlled panic flickering in his silver eyes. "It's not reacting at all! I can't go left!"  
  
"What do you mean??" Now Legolas was sure that his eyes were indeed popping out of their sockets, something that happened to him far too often when he was spending any amount of time at all with Aragorn.  
  
"I can't go left!" Aragorn repeated, tugging on his left cord to prove his point, and this time there was definitely a panicked sparkle in his eyes.   
  
Legolas turned around to his friend fully, not really caring at the moment where he was going. He quickly scanned the other's sledge, becoming more nervous with each passing second for he knew only too well how close they already were to the obstruction that loomed at his back, and felt how his heart turned into a lump of ice all of the sudden when the saw the reason for his friend's difficulties: The left steering cord had been torn off, probably when their sledges had collided a few minutes earlier, and instead of being attached to the axis and therefore enabling one to steer it was now wrapped around a part of one of the vehicle's carved struts.  
  
A combination that could only be described with three words: Very, very bad.  
  
The elf needed only a second to survey the damage and come to the conclusion that there was no way that Aragorn was regaining control over his sledge or slowing down sufficiently before they reached the fallen tree, and he whirled back around and jerked at the right rope of his sledge, manoeuvring his vehicle closer to the man's and fervently praying to Ilúvatar that he would be fast enough.  
  
Aragorn quickly saw what his friend was intending and was already moving to the very left edge of his sledge when his eyes grew wide as he saw the tree that was coming closer so fast that he was sure it blurred around the edges.  
  
His head turned to the side, grey eyes locking with grim silver-blue ones.  
"Don't, Legolas! Get away from here! You won't make it in time!"  
  
"And have your brothers kill me for this? I think not!" the elven prince shouted back, and with a loud crack his sledge connected with Aragorn's.  
  
Legolas' right hand shot out, preparing to grab his human friend's arm and pull him onto his sledge, but that was the moment both of them realised that it was indeed too late.   
  
In the one moment they were still some feet away from the tree, in the next it was right in front of them, seemingly growing towards the heavens in front of their astonished eyes. The two friends had just enough time to look at each other with a weary, somewhat long-suffering in their eyes before their sledges collided with the unyielding tree with a sickening crash.  
  
The next clear sensation Legolas was aware of was being flung into the air and flying for an impossibly long amount of time before the snow-covered ground rushed up to meet him and the white world turned suddenly black.   
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**  
  
  
  
  
  
_mellon nín - my friend  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger  
  
  
  
  
_***nods contently* I really ****have ****missing being evil ... I'm very glad my alter ego's back. I'm sure you missed her too, right? *g*** **Well, I do have to shift ****a bit of the blame for this cliffy: All this was inspired by a review Alilacia sent me some time last story, something involving Aragorn, a sledge and a frozen waterfall. *shrugs* I changed it a bit, but could not resist the temptation. So, if you want to know just what injuries the two of them have managed to sustain this time, check back in on Saturday! In the meantime, you could send me a review! What do you think? Please??  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
LOTRFaith** - *defensively* Hey, it's not my fault! I think you can activate an author alert somewhere - don't ask me where I've never tried. But then you get a message every time that author updates - or something. *shrugs* If you have me on your favourites, shouldn't it tell you things like that? *shrugs again* I dunno, I will never understand FF.net. Well, technically my posting schedule is every five days right now, I hope to get it to every four. More likely than not, that won't work, but still. It's great to 'see' you again, thanks for reviewing!  
**Sirithiliel** - Well, I guess he wouldn't _really_ say that since that's a real quick way to get yourself killed or thrown into the dungeons for a few millennia, but poor Anardir's not really thinking clearly, I'm afraid. Totally understandable if you ask me! *g* I don't think either that elves have money, or own money at that. I think they would use money they would need for trading with humans or jewels, weapons, things like that. Or pretty sparkly obejcts, in Thranduil's case... *g*  
**Gwyn** - You people and your possession with not killing Celylith! I still think it would be _so much_ fun! But then again, it would probably give Zam Kenobi a heart attack, and we can't have that, can we... And yes, some action is in here, and much more is coming a little later - have patience, my friend!  
**Amelie** - *evil grin* You might be right there. No fights, evil guys and things like that can only mean that everything is coming later and will be much worse! *g* I'll try to tell you the general idea of when I'm going to post, but I might forget it sometimes. I'll do my best though. LOL, you might be right, perhaps I should send Celylith to a therapist or something because of the gambling? That would be interesting for sure... I'm sorry, but he won't be in here as much as in THOM, rather more like the twins. Not that much, but he won't disappear either. Deal? *nods* Deal.  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Ah. THAT dance. It's scary and weird, but what else should one expect from you... *evil grin* Ack! J/k, put that sword down! Great you liked that little scene, it's always nice to see that you guys like what I write - especially when it's as weird as that! *g*   
**Deana** - *hisses* It's my idea, precioussss! Mine, it was given to me, it'ssss my birthday presssssssent... *g* No, never mind my alter ego, it's funny indeed that we came up with the same idea to torment our dear elven prince! I didn't exactly post quickly, but I hope it was still okay. No? *hangs head* Okay then.  
**Marbienl** - *g* I am known for not being able to remember the things that really matter - the year in which Caesar crossed the Rubicon, the date on which Walther Rathenau was murdered, whether it was Kleisthenes or Perikles who changed the constitution of Athens - but I remember weird little details like who wishes to be huggled and who doesn't! You have to get your priorities straight, haven't you? *g* So, you have kidnapped one of my dwarves? Let me guess ... it's either Dofur or Nabur, right? Right? Well, whoever it is, I demand that you return to me immediately! I will NOT have you wackos, uhm, I mean readers, of course, kidnap my dwarves! Understood!? *threatening look* LOL, it would really be rather pathetic if Legolas wanted to kill and ED but hit Estel instead, I agree. Rather embarassing, too. Hmm, this is taking place in spring of III, 2954, therefore Aragorn is nearly 23 years old - but I guess you're right, my brother is 23 and not THAT mature either... *g* And yes, it was a VERY thin cut, but NO, it will NOT become infected or anything. Okay? Okay. And I learn my Sindarin mainly from a nice book I got via Amazon, it's rather nice, even though it's a bit complicated. Sindarin is a very hard language, harder to learn than Quenya in my opinion...  
**Nikara** - *g* Well, to be perfectly honest, I don't think that any of them would agree with you that they are "wonderful" injuries, but what do they know... *g* And you're right of course, there are some injuries coming up. It's about bloody time too, right?  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Welcome back yourself! Great to 'see' you again! And I agree, Thranduil is not insane, or at least not yet. His behaviour makes perfect sense, in a way at least... *g* And I agree again, Anardir is a rather sweet elf. He will need all the support he can possibly get too, the poor thing... *evil grin* Thank you very much for reviewing again, I really love 'seeing' people I know!  
**Dha-Gal** - *hangs head* I know. I admit it. I've just started to attend meetings of the AAA, the Angst Authors Anonymous, but it hasn't started to help yet. They said I needed to get rid of my evil alter ego, but I can't do that! She's part of me, after all! *shrugs* Well, if you like cliffies, you're perfectly right here, since, as you probably know by now, is one! Mhahahaha! And I was surprised because I know that the story is about 475 pages long, and that's a lot even for a fast reader. I have never read it in one go, but I still think 2-4 hours is rather fast. *shrugs* Whatever. *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - *sly grin* Oh, I knew you would. You and Elf Angst - a perfect match. *g* And don't let Legolas or Aragorn hear that they're wonderful victims - even if it's true. I'm rather sure that they wouldn't like that one bit... LOL, I know, it must be HORRIBLE to miss your target by the third of a centimetre, but hey, he's kinda obsessed, isn't he? And don't worry, I'll - probably *g*- restore him to his former "perfection", and I am using that term loosely. *evil grin*  
**Alisha** - *grabs Elrond and appears miraculously in Alisha's dorm room, causing her room mate to finally lose it* There! There she is! Fix her! *shoves startled elf lord into equally startled Alisha's direction* *giggles* See, I brought you ME's best healer! He will have fixed that cut finger of yours in no time. He can still amputate it as a last resort ... hey, j/k! No fainting! Wake up! Hey! *g* And don't hold your breath or anything similarly foolish, okay? I would realy hate to lose a beloved reviewer... And yes, I'm bad. I'm evil and sadistic and about a thousand other things in between - it really took you over ten months to notice that? *unbelieving look* You're weird... And I have to say, you may be weird, but you're good. Your guess is really not bad - you and dear Celylith may have to share the money... *g*  
**Firniswin** - Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm being called interesting things all the time, including She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (I kinda like that one), Daughter of Morgoth and things like that. Rather flattering, really. You're marking me on the calendar? Jeez, either you or I need more of a life, mate... *g* Me, I guess...  
**Silvertoekee** - Nah, don't change your s/n. I like it. I don't really get what it's supposed to mean, but I don't get a lot of things, so no worries. Oh, and the bets are not really extensive, they could bne much worse. I think they're still rather simple. *g* LOL, Legolas and Aragorn meeting up to ALL the options? That is a rather interesting idea - scary, but interesting...  
**Jenny** - *sighs* No, the summary is not a cliffy. You already know that neither Legolas nor Aragorn will be killed, unless I decide to change this into an AU all of the sudden... *g* And yes, this one has a cliffy. I'm sorry, I really am. I know how you hate them, but my alter ego demanded it. Who am I to argue with myself? *g*  
**Mouse5** - Wow, you really do that? Betting on which fly crawls up a wall first or something like that? That sounds even worse than Celylith and Co. in my opinion... Thanks for asking, college is ... well, you could say okay, I guess. I'm not really happy with my courses, unfortunately I had little choice. Hm, make that no choice. *g* But it's only for this term, so I'll be fine, eventually. Unfortunately, this is indeed a cliffy, but you'll forgive me, right? *hopeful smile*  
**Coimastara** - Huh, really? That's quite a lot - I'm very flattered, thank you very much! LOL, you could tell the police that I murdered you, but I very much doubt they would find me. And even if, I would simply sic Aragorn and Legolas on them! Mhahahah! *g* Thanks for your review!  
**Critternut** - Nope, no Legolas. No Aragorn either, only the twins, Elrond and Glorfindel. Oh yes, a little bit of Erestor as well, and I think Arwen's mentioned a few times. *g* And don't worry, Tolkien actually doesn't write all that much about the twins at all, so most of the things you read in fics are made up anyway. Incluiding my interpretation of their characters, of course. And no, it won't interfere with this story since I wrote and finished it before I even started with this one. So it's all done and waiting for the 23rd. *g* And sorry if I have to disappoint you, Legolas won't be captured now, that would be far too predictable, right?   
**Zam** - I've always liked the confetti. It makes me feel so ... special. *g* LOL, I can totally understand Anardir. I wouldn't want to join your orc horde either. They're incompetent - and they cheat at scrabble and Trivial Pursuit! That's not even evil, that's disgraceful! *g* Yeah, the rabid fangirl category would be good too - with their luck and you around... Great you like it so much! It's always nice to please you and Lina - you're too evil to displease... *shudders*  
**Ellyrianna** -*nods* Yes, sometimes FF.net does that. Usually it helps to add an "a" or an "a/" to the link you want to see - but, unfortunately, not always. Most of the time it does though. And your guess wasn't that bad, only that it's supposed to be early February and doesn't rain. It snows. *snickers* Just you wait, it will snow soon... *evil grin* I'm _always_ taking torture suggestions! You never know when you might need them... Eek - as I said before, I've never read the Code, and now that you tell me the many nice things you've found in them I suddenly have no desire whatsoever to do. Funny, eh?  
**Helen T** - *shrugs* As I said, I don't know yet. I might put it into the next story, I always like to tie everything up nicely, but it might take me some time. Thank you! Finally someone is agreeing with me on the definition of the word cliffy! Most people here have a really funny idea of the meaning in my opinion... And sorry, but I really have no time at all to chat in the evenings. I don't think I will be on AIM in the near future, I'm just too busy. Sorry. *sheepish grin*   
**Calenore** - LOL, all the possible dangers will happen to them at once!? I have the very bad feeling that that would be enough to finally kill them... *g* Thanks a lot for your review! Reviews are wondrous things, they make authors very happy and therefore enable them to post sooner! Honestly! *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - *mysterious smile* Well, Legolas might get well again - then again, he might not. Who can possibly know? I know, I know, _I_ can know, but I don't really count. *g* And yes, Glorfindel will be in here, I promised Cathy and can't break that now - she would find a way to kill me, cunning little creature she is... *watches her bounce* Uh-oh. *being crushed* Didn't ... I ... say don't ... bounce ... for ... cryin' out ... loud? *g* Don't mind me. I LIKE being crushed. Really.  
**Leggylover03** - *shakes head* I will not comment on your obsession with Aragorn pain, for I have done that many, many times in the past and it never worked. So I will only say that yes, Aragorn pain is coming up in the next few chapters, but nothing too serious, we don't want the boy to be hurt too badly, do we? *g* Nooo...  
**Aurienia** - Yup, I feel sorry for Anardir too - he's a very, very poor elf... The question of who will win will be answered here - in a way, that is. *g* So you want a cliffy? Really? A real cliffy? Okay then, here you go! I hope you have fun with it! *leaves her dangling over the cliff* Mhahahahahaa!  
**Aratfeniel** - Ack! Then don't twist it, for Christ's sake! No twisting broken wrists! And yes, of _course_ Araogorn is reckless. I don't know whether he really thinks someone will believe him when he says things like that, since we all know that he is the most reckless being ever to grace fair Arda! *shakes head* Reckless human...  
**Mystic Girl1** - Mann! Wieder eine Mega-review! Yay! Hmm, wenn du weiterhin so lange Meisterwerke schreibst, koennte ich mich vielleicht bereiterklaeren, auf einige der 48 Reviews zu verzichten. *g* Und nein, du musst nicht auf Englisch schreiben, Gott bewahre. Ich hab' schon mehr als genug auf Englisch, da ist ein deutsches mal ganz schoen... *unschuldiges Laecheln* Ein was? Ein cliffy? Hier? Neeeiiiinnnn... LOL, ja, Legolas stellt sich wirklich ein bisschen an, nech? Aber so ist er halt, der dumme blonde Waldelb. Ich war im Bogenschiessen immer recht gut - aber wir haben ja heutzutage so viele Hilfmittel, da wuerde sich ein Elb vor Lachen wahrscheinlich auf dem Boden waelzen - oder vor Schock sterben- *g* ManuKu hat ja Gottseidank geupdated - ich war kurz vor drastischen Schritten!!  
**Tychen** - *nods* Yeah, we ALL know it, but somehow, neither Legolas nor Aragorrn are getting it. That either makes us very clever or them very stupid.. *grins satified* Well, your guess is interesting, but it's not ... quite correct. It's rather good to see that I'm not that predictable yet... LOL, the odds of the other elves leaving for Valinor are ... hm, what about two-to-one? Something like that... *g*  
**Maranwe1** - *hangs head in shame* I changed it as soon as I got your review, honestly! I kinda knew that it was you, but I didn't have time to check it and didn't want to write anything wrong, so I just wrote I couldn't remember. *falls to her knees* Will you forgive me? Please!? *fake sobbing* Yeah, I know, these details are the things that keep me alive in boring lectures. I like learning weird stuff like that that I will never need in later life.. *g* LOL, I think that neither Thranduil nor Aragorn would be exceedingly pleased to be compared to one another. But they are alike - kind of, right? *g* Poor them. Huh? How long the chapter was? Ch.2 was 14 1/2 pages, this one is 14, the next one is 16 1/2. So I manage to keep to 15 pages, most of the time, which is god because I really don't want them any longer. And no, it would NOT be funny had they grown. NOT. *evil look* Oh, and I'm glad you liked the tree-joke, I like it too. *huggles* Thanks for reviewing!  
**TrustingFriendship** - Mhahaha, ARAGORN said Legolas' arm would be alright, not me! Who knows what's going on in that scary mind of mine... *g* You're evil if you want to see poor Anadir sweat - he's been through too much already! He deserves our sympathy! *shakes head* You're evil, really, the poor elf...  
**Lady Sandry** - No, you didn't read it wrong. I meant it that way, kind of, that is. I mean, Estel means hope, and if Aragorn is around, so is hope, therefore he can't fall into hopelessness, because Aragorn will still be there. Does that make sense? Even if not, it was a nice play of words. About your criticism: First: I'm not the Emperor or Sauron, I LIKE constructive criticism. I really do. I doesn't help me if people don't tell me what they really think, so I thank you for taking the time to really think about it. Even flames don't bother me, and yours definitely wasn't one. *smiles* See? No hard feelings. Okay, so ABOUT it: To be honest: It took you so long to realise that? I mean, the Thranduil of my stories has ALWAYS been OOC. Tolkien's Thranduil wouldn't be friends with Elrond, he wouldn't allow Aragorn to stay in Mirkwood, he wouldn't have got drunk with Elrond and Glorfindel in the Second Age. Still, I know what you mean, and I didn't mean that Thranduil was behaving like that in front of his court or something. It was only in front of Galion, who has been his servant for years. Even the Thranduil of my stories wouldn't wander through the palace grinning like an idiot or petting a letter. *g* So, essentially, he has been OOC from the start. As has Elrond, and the twins (who ever said they played pranks - somehow I can't see Tolkien writing that) and Aragorn to a certain degree who I always pictured more solemn and aware of his heritage and duty, even if he didn't want it. Now that you mention it, almost ALL my characters are OOC. *sighs* Great.  
**Salara** - SALARA! *auf sie stuerz und umarm* Ich dachte schon, du waerest verschollen! Es ist echt toll, euch mal wiederzusehen, ich dachte schon, der Wuerger von Boston oder wo der auch immer herkam hat euch erwischt... *g* Hm, eine 10-Review-Kompaktversion? Das ist in der Tat eine nette Idee, wenn ich mal drueber nachdenke... Ich muss zugeben, dass ich noch nie von "Eaton Palace" gehoert habe geschweige denn es gesehen habe, aber ich dachte an den Butler aus "Der Prince von Bel Air", der ist auch so aehnlich. Galalith spielt in der Tat noch eine groessere Rolle, aber an dieser Stelle versiegeln sich meine Lippen. Kein Wort soll sich von meiner Zunge loesen! *g* Ich muss zugeben, dass ich selbst noch nie in einer solchen Situation war (wenn man den einen angebrochenen Finger mal nicht zaehlt, ich war schon immer unverschaemt gesund), aber die beste Freundin meiner Mutter schon und auch mein Vater. Also ein bisschen Erfahrung ist schon da... Und die Idee mit dem Pfeilschuss, von dem dann ein Leben abhaengt, hat sich schon seit langer Zeit in mein krankes Gehirn eingeschlichen, keine Angst... *g* Ich hoffe wirklich, dass dein Leben wieder ein bisschen leichter geworden ist, und es war toll, mal wieder was von dir zu hoeren! Danke!  
**Maerz** - Also alle fuenf - oder, in diesem Fall, sechs - Tage findest du schnell? Was kann man da noch sagen... Ich danke dir jedoch fuer deine Weitsicht; es ist immer schoen, reviews zu bekommen, aber wem sag' ich das... *g* Ich hoffe, das Update hier was jetzt nicht zu schnell - wuerde mich aber extem wundern... *g*  
**Seveawen** - I know what you mean, I guess I should start "acting my age" too, which would be incredibly boring though, wouldn't it? *evil grin* I honestly can't tell you yet whether or not Seobryn will be in this story. I don't know yet, he just might, but I haven't planned it this far. What I can tell you though is that I definitely plan on writing a fic in which Seobryn and Seveawen marry, if I ever get that far in my stories. It might be two or three fics in the future, but if I'm still writing then, I will do one about that. Okay? Jeez, I really hope you're okay now? Five days in the hospital doesn't sound like fun! I hope your mom doesn't hate me now! *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - I will ignore the sarcasm. I'm rather good at that, you know... *g* Well, my stories tend to come in pieces, or were you referring to the chapter? Why would you have to read it in pieces; it's not THAT long, is it? *shrugs* Whatever, thanks a lot for your reviews! I do love them, I mentioned that somewhere I think...  
**ThE iNsAnE oNe** - LOL! Legolas is hearing voices, huh? Well, to be honest, I'm not really surprised - it only is a miracle that Nólad managed to stay sane for so long in the company of you people... ROTFL, you LICKED Elrohir's hand? Jeez, the poor elf will be traumatised for LIFE! Considering he's an elf that's a very LONG time! And OF COURSE (somehow I'm writing a lot in capital letters right now, I don't know why either *g*) I'm happy to see you back! I missed you and Nólad and all the other wackos! (Elladan/Elrohir/Aragorn/Legolas: *outraged* HEY!!!) And don't worry about reviewing on time or something like that, as long as you THINK of me I'm happy... *Gosh, that sounded sappy* LOL, but I'm sorry, the twins won't be in here before chapter 8. Probably chapter 9, sorry. And yes, I know what you mean, telling someone he is nice is evil, almost as evil as telling him he's normal or ordinary. That's even worse in my opinion! And yes again, I agree, the scene was a little bit mushy. *Miki snickers* Okay, so it was VERY mushy, happy now? Great the chappie was lovely after all! Thanks for the huge review!  
**Suzi9** - Oh, you would do that? I've _always_ wanted a dragon pulled chariot, ever since I read that story. I was about ten there, I think... So Nov. 23rd is your birthday too? Great, then it's a present for both you and Kaeera. Hope you like the twins? There will be no Legolas or Aragorn, only the twins, Elrond, Glorfindel and a little Erestor. *raises eyebrow* I really think I don't want to know about the fence thing. Give Boudicca my regards and tell her the whole insurrection was a bad idea! *shrugs* Sorry, but I've always thought it was kinda like fighting the inevitable. Which doesn't make it any less remarkable, of course...  
**ManuKu** - MANU! *kreischt und umarmt* Schoen, dich mal wieder zu sehen! Wie ich schon Salara sagte, ich hatte schon das schlimmste befuerchtet... Nun bin ich aber wieder komplett gluecklich! *grinst bloede* Siehste? Gluecklich... Hmm, du moechtest, dass sich Legolas und Aragorn nicht-verbal auf die Arme nehmen? Das saehe ein wenig seltsam aus, meinst du nicht, wenn der eine den anderen permanent rumtragen wuerde... *g* Und ich finde immer, es sollte einem nicht peinlich sein, laut zu lachen, egal wo man ist. Die Welt ist eh schon trueb genug, und alle anderen sind eh viel zu ernst... Dein guter Vorsatz freut und ehrt mich natuerlich, aber schon mit einem gelegentlichen Zeichen bin ich ja schon zufrieden! *knuddelt noch mal* Danke fuer ebendieses!  
**Tinlaure** - Wow - a six-word-review! Well, I'll simply assume that you liked the story - thank you very much - and that you are happy that I updated - thank you very much again. Correct? I hope so... *g*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Well, no, I didn't seriously think that, but now that you have assured me that you would indeed not abandon me I feel much happier! Thanks! It's very nice that you decide to keep reviewing my weird story... *huggles*  
**Cicci** - LOL, you're right, the poor elf really has no idea - but that will change soon, don't worry... *evil laugh* I guess that you're right and that there really is a difference between Legolas' relationship with Mirkwood elves and with Aragorn. I guess that for Silvan elves, no matter how well they know him, he will always remain their prince rather than their friend, no matter what. Fortunately, Aragorn isn't an elf so he doesn't do that. *pats ranger on the head* Good boy. *g*  
**ElrondsEyebrow** - Or GollumsEyes or whatever you are called right now... *g* Well, I guess I would be lying if I pretended I fully understood what you are talking about. It's very nice to hear though that you like this story so far. At least I think that's what you said, right? I kinda got distracted by the squirrels. Why squirrels? Thanks for the reviews nonetheless!  
**Just Jordy** - You are really lucky, you know that!? You wrote just on the day I am indeed updating! Yay you! *g* I'm really sorry that this is so late, but as I said, there really was no time to get this up any sooner. I hope this was still soon enough?! Thanks a lot for the reviews, they really encourage and help me a lot!  
  
**So, and I really think I have to find another solution for this... I can't think of anything though. *shrugs* We'll see. A huge Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! *huggles* I love reviews, which is well known by now I guess... *g*  
  
  
  
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	4. Accidents Will Happen

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
I must admit that I have never seen it this way, but you're right: It is very sad that Aragorn and Legolas can do virtually _nothing_ without getting themselves into deadly peril. It must be a rather frustrating way of life, really.. *g*  
  
It is also nice to know that you enjoyed the cliffy so much! *ducks rotten fruit, sharp objects and so on* My alter ego says she's very glad to be back too, and that she's planning to stay for a while. That's great, isn't it? *evil grin*   
  
Be that as it may: There are many people who told me to put in some elf and/or ranger angst and pain and to let Legolas get captured soon. Well, I can gladly give you the one, but unfortunately not the other. I mean, there is some elf/ranger angst/pain/whatever in here, not too much of course since we want them able to move around in the near future, but I have to announce that Legolas won't get captured in the next few chapters. I always need some time to prepare everything, besides, it would be boring if it happened too soon, wouldn't it? This way there's more anticipation, more tension and more death threats - you know how much I love them, right? *g*  
  
Another little note for all who asked: Tomorrow is the 23rd and therefore Kaeera's birthday, meaning that I will start posting "Straight Paths", her birthday-twin-story. I should probably tell you right away that there will be NO Aragorn or Legolas, only the twins, Elrond, Glorfindel and a bit of Erestor. Sorry about that, but it was rather nice to write for a change. So, the first chapter will be here tomorrow. Go and read it. *g*  
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**Alright, so here's the next chapter, and no, it's no cliffy, I'm sorry. I don't want to post too many in a row, otherwise we'll have lots of dead readers and we can't have that, can we? *g* Well, in here we have ... Elf angst ... Ranger angst ... Anardir who nearly has a heart attack ... the stupidest injury one can sustain when colliding with a tree ... and Celylith's father! Somehow the poor elf wasn't all that happy about that... *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please!**  
  
  
  


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Chapter 4  
  
  
At first, Legolas' thoughts were too muddled and confused for him to really understand what was going on, and, truth to be told, he didn't care overly much either.  
  
Right now he was hovering between sleep and waking, and as far as he was concerned that was a rather desirable place to be. It was peaceful and dark here, and there were no worries or fears or anything that demanded his attention.  
  
The elf sighed inwardly. This was really nice, and he would not allow anyone to rip him out of it, by no means whatsoever. Somehow, he didn't really know how, he knew that there would be someone or something that would be trying to make him leave this blessed condition behind; there always was.   
  
But not this time, Legolas resolved firmly, giving a small, mental headshake. This time he would remain strong and would refuse to return to consciousness. If he had learned anything in these past years, it was that it was always better to remain in wonderful unconsciousness than to return to the real world to find out what had put one into such a state in the first place.   
  
A small, but rather insistent part of his mind was not at all satisfied with that reasoning and prodded him to wake up, prodded him that there was someone who needed his help, but Legolas resolutely ignored it. It happened rather often to him lately that parts of his brain disagreed with him, and he was still trying to prove to himself that _he _was the one in control of his actions. By the Valar, he thought angrily, he was the Prince of Mirkwood and would not allow his brain to tell him what to do!  
  
The voice burst out laughing at that, but before he could find out what was so funny about his last remark, _it _happened: A voice vaguely reached his ears, a voice that, even though he couldn't understand it yet, could only mean that his fears had come true and someone was indeed trying to wake him.  
  
Legolas gave a small, inward headshake of disgust. He would not listen to it; he would not allow it to draw him back to consciousness. He was rather happy here where he didn't have to think about anything, and he was sure that there was nothing out there worthy of his attention anyway.  
  
The voice, however, did not agree with his plans or his assessment of the situation in general, and instead of fading as Legolas had hoped it became more persistent and urgent. He still couldn't discern what it was that the voice said, but judging by its tone it was becoming rather annoyed.  
  
After a few more moments during which Legolas tried to ignore the voice as best as possible, a second voice joined the first, and slowly the elven prince began to understand what it was talking about.  
  
"Prince … must wake … the king … kill us!"  
  
The young elf frowned mentally. Either the voice wasn't thinking clearly or his ability to comprehend the meaning of simple sentences had somehow diminished, something that wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest, now that he thought about it.  
  
Nevertheless, his curiosity had been kindled, and he found that he strained to understand what was being said when the first voice spoke up again, sounding slightly exasperated and, he thought, afraid.  
  
"Be quiet, Anardir. Stay here and try to get him to wake up, and I will see if I can find Estel. He's not here, so he's bound to be in some kind of trouble."  
  
The other voice replied, sounding rather whiny if Legolas was perfectly honest.   
"I told them so, didn't I? I _told _them it wasn't a good idea, I _told _them…"  
  
"Anardir…" the second voice all but growled.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
The only thing that could be heard after that was a tired sigh and the sounds of footsteps that slowly faded in the distance, but Legolas wasn't really paying much attention. One reason was that he didn't really feel like listening to the first voice that once again began to speak, beseeching him to return to consciousness, but the other reason was that he had realised the importance of something the second voice had said: Estel was not here and therefore was in trouble, or so it claimed.  
  
It took him an eternity – Legolas knew that it were probably only a few seconds, but it surely felt like much, much longer – to fully comprehend what that meant. The face of a dark haired human, of Estel, flittered through his mind, smiling at him, and with a start the pieces he had been working so hard to put together fell into place. Aragorn was not with him. Aragorn was in trouble.  
  
The sledges. The tree. The collision.  
  
O Eru, please no…   
  
All of the fair haired elf's resolve not to return to the present dissolved like snow in the sun, and in a complete reversion of his prior efforts he now struggled to regain consciousness with all his might. After a surprisingly short amount of time he managed to regain some control over his inert and, on second thought, fiercely hurting body, and gave a soft, rather pitiful moan. The voice seemed to be delighted though, and so the elven prince continued his struggle to reach the surface of the dark, swirling fog that wanted to keep him back.  
  
"Prince Legolas? Highness, you have to wake up … do you know what your father will _say _to all this? Do you know what your father will _do_?"  
  
That, Legolas decided rather grumpily, was not exactly something that served as an incitement for him to actually do what the voice said. If there was one thing he didn't want to think about right now, it was his father. No, that was not entirely true, he amended after a few moments when his goal was already so near that he could mentally have reached out and grasped it, he didn't want to think about Hithrawyn or any of Aragorn's family either. O the Valar, what would Lord Elrond say when he heard that he had killed his son by taking him for a ride on a _sledge _of all things? What would the twins say?  
  
Oh no. The twins who were coming in a few days.  
  
That little thought served to increase his will to return to consciousness tenfold, and so he finally managed to open his eyes, wondering for a moment if someone had seen it fit to glue them shut; not that that would really have surprised him at the moment either. At first, all he could see was white, and it took quite some time for his surroundings to finally swim into focus. When they did, he blinked in confusion at the face that filled almost his entire vision.  
  
He knew it should be familiar, with golden hair and wearing a slightly panicked expression, but he could only connect it to a name when it began to speak, sounding torn between relief and overwhelming terror.  
  
"My lord? Can you hear me?" A hand appeared alongside the face, holding up three slightly blurred fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"  
  
"Uh," was all Legolas could say, and he suddenly was very glad that Aragorn was not here to witness this. He would never stop teasing him about answering a perfectly normal question with "Uh". He cleared his throat and tried again, surprised himself at how weak his voice sounded. "Three? Anardir?"  
  
The blonde elf beamed down on him and gave a huge, obviously heartfelt sigh of relief. So the prince had at least not suffered any serious head injuries, thank Ilúvatar…  
"Yes, my lord," he nodded. "Captain Celylith and I came as quickly as we could when we heard the crash. You were flung quite a long way to the side, but you haven't been unconscious for long; fifteen minutes at most."  
  
Legolas simply stared up at him, realising for the first time that he was lying on his back in the snow, not a very comfortable place to be now that he thought about it. Somehow, Anardir was leaving something very important out, something he really needed to know about… After a second, something clicked in his mind and he blinked, doing his best to control his anxiety.  
"Estel?"  
  
Had the elven prince been in a more concentrated or lucid state of mind, he would have seen the uncertainty flicker over the other elf's face.  
"Lord Celylith is looking for him right now," Anardir soothed, trying very hard to look reassuring and in control of the situation and failing miserably on both accounts. "He'll be fine."  
  
Legolas merely snorted and closed his eyes again when a wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. Well, he thought, maybe he did have a light concussion after all.  
"It is Strider we are talking about," he reminded the other elf and slowly forced his eyes back open. "He is never fine, and certainly not when he claims to be." He took a deep breath and stretched out his hand, frowning slightly when it shortly multiplied in front of his eyes. "Help me up, please."  
  
Anardir's eyes grew wide, and he shortly looked over his shoulder as if hoping that Celylith would return and relieve him of his unwilling patient.  
"I do not think that would be a wise idea, my lord," he shook his head, trying to ignore the stubborn glint in the other's eyes. "There is that rather long gash on your temple, and your right arm is looking rather bad too. I think you shouldn't move at all until Lord Celylith returns with the ranger…"  
  
As soon as Anardir mentioned his arm Legolas realised that it hurt indeed worse than the rest of his body – excluding his head of course, which seemed to be rather close to explosion or spontaneous combustion or something of the like – and he slowly turned the arm he was still stretching upwards to have a look at it.   
  
He couldn't really understand why he hadn't noticed something sooner, but Anardir was right: "Looking not too good" was a rather accurate description. He hadn't felt anything when it had happened, which wasn't too surprising when one took into account that his whole body had literally been flooded with adrenaline then, but when they had hit the tree, his right arm must have been caught between the wood and the rest of his body. Almost his entire sleeve had been torn away, and the whole length of his arm was decorated with small and even a few big cuts, abrasions and bruises that promised to turn some rather interesting shades of the colours black and blue in the near future.  
  
Legolas closed his eyes again and stifled the soft moan that wanted to escape his lips. Oh, wouldn't this make so many people so very happy?  
  
He opened his eyes again and gave the blonde elf a hard look, preparing to push his body into a sitting position by himself.  
"You will either help me up, my friend, or I will do it myself."  
  
Anardir looked at him with weary, rather hopeless eyes and conceded defeat with a sigh. He gently pressed Legolas' injured arm back down and grasped his left hand instead, carefully pulling him into a sitting position and then to his feet. When they were finally standing, the prince's eyes were tightly closed again, and the way he breathed through obviously clenched teeth and the pallor of his skin did nothing to reassure the golden haired elf of the fact that this had been the right decision.  
  
"I think you should sit down again…" he began carefully, trying to get through the prince's thick head and convince him that getting up really wasn't that good an idea, or, to be honest, not a good idea at all.  
  
Legolas merely opened his eyes a little and glared at him, and Anardir knew that he could have saved himself the effort. The other elf was just as stubborn as his father, and there was no way he would be doing what he was being told if he didn't want to, again just like his father. And, Anardir added inwardly, it was rather obvious that Legolas didn't want to do what he was being told right now.  
  
"Where is the tree?" Legolas simply asked, clenching his teeth tightly when his body informed him that it had just been flung through the air and that it was agreeing with Anardir on how sitting down sounded like a very good thing to do. "I have to see to Strider."  
  
Anardir merely hung his head, deciding that he didn't care anymore if that action would indeed result in him having a neck like a swan. Sometimes, hanging your head was the only thing you could do to express your feelings.  
"Right over there," he pointed somewhere to their left. "You got thrown clear of the crash. What happened anyway, my lord?"  
  
Legolas shook his head slightly as they began to walk over the snow, and he found that he was leaning more heavily onto Anardir's arm than he would have wanted to, much to his dismay.   
"It was an accident. Estel's steering cord tore and he couldn't avoid the tree. I tried to help him and we both collided with it."  
  
The other elf had the good grace not to comment on the prince's explanation, even though he was experiencing the rather distinct urges to either shake his head in disbelief or to start laughing – once again, in disbelief. It was simply unbelievable how the two of them were doing it. He had been expecting them to hurt themselves while riding a sledge, yes, but this topped everything he had been able to come up with.  
  
Legolas didn't seem to notice the other's lack of comment because he was rather concentrated on persuading his brain not to explode or do something equally unconstructive, and so they reached the tree after a few moments that was only a few dozen yards away. The elven prince did feel ready to drop, truth to be told, but the fear for his human friend kept him going and on his feet, and it even increased when he first saw Celylith's anxious face who was kneeling next to the tree half on the bank, half on the ice of the lake, and soon multiplied exponentially when they took a few more steps and he could see the silver haired elf's rather frantic movements.  
  
"Celylith?" Legolas asked after a few moments, too afraid to really formulate a question. The other elf's body shielded what must be Aragorn from view; all he could see were parts of the man's cloak, a right elbow and left boot. What was left of their sledges lay scattered all around the tree, and when Legolas looked at the pieces that were not much larger than a few square feet each, he inwardly thanked Ilúvatar and all the Valar for watching over them.  
  
Celylith's head shot up, startled. He had been so immersed in his work that he hadn't heard their approach that had been anything but stealthy, and this served to frighten Legolas even more.  
  
"Legolas!" he breathed relieved, keen eyes quickly moving over the other's torn clothing, his injured arm and the large, no longer bleeding gash on his left temple. He narrowed his eyes slightly when he saw the slightly glazed look the blonde elf gave him, and quickly took half of the supplies that were spilling out of a small bag next to him and shoved them into Anardir's direction. "Here," he told the other elf, "that's all we have at the moment, but it should be enough."  
  
He turned back around, certain that Legolas would be alright. He had quickly examined him when he had still been unconscious and had found that he was bruised and cut and would probably wake up with a headache of immense proportions but that his injuries were not life-threatening. Celylith turned his gaze back to the body in front of him. Just how did that reckless human do it all the time?  
  
Legolas simply stared at his friend's turned back, his mind idly noticing that the other elf was reaching for a disturbingly large number of rolled up bandages. Had Celylith just dismissed him like an elfling?  
"I am no child, and you can talk to me instead of about me just as well!" he complained, knowing full well that that remark sounded rather … well, childish. "What is wrong with him? Tell me!"  
  
Celylith shortly turned his head, his hair slightly disarrayed and blue eyes troubled, annoyed and amused all at the same time. He gave Anardir a slightly questioning stare and when the other simply shook his head, he gave a sigh and forced himself to smile at his prince.  
  
"Sit down and let Anardir tend you, and I will." He raised a hand – something that turned out to have been not very clever, since it was stained with dark red blood right about now – and halted the other's rebellious tirade before he had even opened his mouth. "No, my friend. Sit down, or I will order Anardir to drag you back to the horses and see to you there. I am the closest thing to a healer here, and it would be well within my right as such."  
  
Legolas glowered at the other, inwardly rather relieved that Celylith took the time to argue with him because that meant that whatever injuries Aragorn had sustained, they couldn't be that grievous or Celylith would have been in a far worse mood and would definitely not have humoured him at all. He was very much like Lord Elrond in that matter, although he certainly was not skilled to the same extent as the elf lord or any of his sons, including Aragorn. Celylith knew that perfectly well, but he had learned much from his mother who had been a master healer before she had journeyed to the Havens with his sister, and his _look _was nearly as formidable as the young ranger's or his adoptive father's.  
  
"Alright," he gave finally in and allowed Anardir to lower him to the ground, something that pleased his fiercely hurting body immensely. "There is no reasoning with you when you are obsessed with the idea that you are Lord Elrond anyway."  
  
Celylith grinned, shifting slightly to the side to be able to tend to his patient better.  
"I am glad that, after more than two thousand years, you have finally understood something as simple as that."  
  
Legolas didn't answer, not because he agreed with his friend, not because he didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that this was definitely not true, but rather because he was rather preoccupied with staring at the still body of his human friend that was lying in a crumpled heap next to the silver haired elf.  
  
The fair haired prince blinked and quickly pushed down the worry that even intensified in his chest, threatening to crush his heart in his chest. O Elbereth Gilthoniel…  
  
Celylith had either noticed his friend's silence who didn't even seem to feel that Anardir had begun wrapping a long linen bandage around his head or he had heard the other's sharp intake of breath. Whichever was the case, he quickly turned back to the elven prince, one hand still grasping the dagger which he had used to cut the human's clothing away from the wound.  
  
"It's not as bad as it looks," he tried to reassure the other elf. "He will definitely live; I don't think it has pierced anything vital."   
  
Legolas only nodded his head mutely, not really having heard what the silver haired elf had said, because, right now, it was rather hard to believe him. He did of course trust his childhood friend's judgement, especially with things like these, but at this very moment he found it hard to believe that this … injury was not severe and that it had not pierced anything vital. "It" was a splintered, ragged, about three foot long piece of wood that had buried itself in his human friend's side, literally impaling the young ranger.  
  
The elven prince had to suck in a deep breath, and not only because Anardir had started cleaning his right arm, something that sent wave after wave of pain through his entire body. Aragorn must have been slammed against the tree when they had collided with it instead of being thrown clear, and had apparently been unlucky enough to be thrust directly upon the branch or whatever it was. Legolas stared with wide eyes at the man's still and unmoving form, noticing that his whole body was beginning to shake and feel inexplicably cold. A small, still reasonable part of his brain told him that he was just going into shock, but he ignored it, eyes still fixed unwaveringly on Strider.   
  
Legolas kept his eyes on the back of his friend's dark head that was draped over the rough bark of the tree, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that Celylith had finished cutting away the fabric around the exit wound on the ranger's back. The wood had gone right through his left side, effectively pinning the man to the tree. The branch's point fortunately protruded from the other's back some inches left of his spine, and Legolas only needed to look at the glistering point that was wet with his friend's blood to start feeling definitely sick.  
  
Celylith sat back a little, his hands hovering above Aragorn's still form as if he didn't really know what to do next. That was something Legolas did not want to see at all.  
"What is it?" he asked the silver haired elf. "You said it was not that bad!"  
  
Celylith gave the other elf a rather lenient smile, knowing better than to argue with him when he was in this state of mind, namely nearly out of his mind with worry.  
  
"It isn't," he shook his head before returning his eyes to his patient. "I just don't really want to remove it since we don't have any styptic herbs here, but I don't think we have any other options really. We can move him, because it broke off and is no longer attached to the tree, but he is no elf, and leaving that piece of wood where it is could do more harm than good since his body is not as able to fight off infections as ours are."  
  
Legolas bit back a moan when Anardir touched a particularly deep cut on his forearm and turned to glare at the golden haired elf who simply ignored him before he turned back to face his silver haired friend.  
"Remove it then."  
  
Celylith nodded and moved forward a little after making sure that he had all the bandages and herbs he might need close by, but before he could reach for the piece of wood that protruded from his friend's body, he froze when he heard a low, pain-filled moan. All three elves' eyes darted to the body of the young human who was obviously starting to come around, judging by another soft moan and a minute movement of his right hand.  
  
Legolas shrugged Anardir off who had just tied off the bandage he had been wrapping around his arm and, ignoring the elf's pleas to stay where he was, stumbled over to the tree. He paid Celylith's reproachful glare no heed and let himself sink down on the other side of the tree so he could see his friend's face. Inwardly, he cursed the man for waking up now, but a small, selfish part of him was incredibly glad that he would get a chance to see if the human was alright.  
  
"Estel?" he asked, trading short, worried glances with Celylith over the tree when the ranger didn't react at first. "Strider? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"  
  
The man's eyes remained closed, but low mumbling could be heard, and when Legolas leaned closer, he could actually discern some words.  
"What … stupid question …"   
  
Legolas leaned back, feeling almost giddy with relief. Well, Aragorn was awake and acting just like normal, that much was sure. The elf reached out with his left hand and carefully brushed some hair out of his friend's eyes, noticing a large abrasion that was running across his forehead.  
"Can you open your eyes for me, _mellon nín_? Come now, it surely can't be that hard, even for a human, can it?"  
  
Whether his words had prompted the ranger to comply or not Legolas would never know, but after a few moments Aragorn's eyelids fluttered indeed open, revealing rather glazed, confused grey eyes that seemed to stare right through him.  
"Legolas?" he asked weakly and bit back another moan when he tried to move before the two elves could restrain him. "What … happened to your head, in Eru's name?"  
  
"Don't you remember?" the elf asked slightly worried, keeping his good hand on the other's shoulder to prevent him from moving again. "We crashed our sledges into that fallen tree. Surely you remember that?"  
  
A wry grimace that might have been a smile flittered across that man's face, and he let his head sink forwards again, his eyes closing on their own account.  
"Now that you mention it…"  
  
Legolas traded a look with Celylith and shifted his hand from his friend's shoulder to his cheek, willing him to listen.  
"Estel, you have a piece of wood in your left side. Celylith needs to pull it out before an infection can spread."  
  
With an obvious effort, an eye was opened again, and Aragorn gave the blonde elf a blank stare.  
"There are some … bits of information one does … not want to hear."  
  
Legolas smiled and shook his head slightly, ignoring the way the pain in his head intensified yet again at that movement.  
"Still, it must come out." He looked at the human with a pained expression. "It will hurt, my friend."  
  
The man gave him a tired look.  
"What did I just say?"   
  
Legolas didn't answer, and so he added,  
  
"I am a healer myself, Legolas. I know it will hurt. Just do it before I freeze to this cursed tree, alright?"  
  
The elven prince nodded mutely, noticing for the first time that Aragorn was lying in a slowly growing puddle of icy water. Their crash, while obviously not hard enough to break it entirely, had at least cracked the ice a little, and some water was already accumulating on top of the gleaming, frozen surface. Legolas grimaced. He didn't really know what happened to humans when they were exposed to such circumstances for a prolonged amount of time, but he had learned enough in the past years to know that it wasn't pleasant, potentially dangerous and nothing he really wanted to know more about.  
  
Legolas looked over his human friend's bowed head at Celylith and nodded his head again. The silver haired elf gave a nod in return and braced his left hand firmly against the man's back while Legolas gripped his shoulder again, and with a sharp intake of breath Celylith began to pull the wood out of the wound.  
  
Aragorn's reaction was instantaneous and rather forceful, not that one of the elves had expected anything else. His body jerked and he unconsciously arched his back, trying to escape the painful treatment that felt more as if Celylith was trying to drive the wood deeper into the wound and not to pull it out, but his friends held him down firmly. Legolas gritted his teeth and bit down on his bottom lip when he saw the agony they were inflicting on the man, and so he greeted it with some relief and gratitude when, after a few more seconds, Aragorn passed out again with a pained cry.  
  
Celylith's face had turned a rather interesting shade of grey by now that did not match his hair colour at all, but he didn't release his grip on either his human friend nor on the piece of wood he was beginning to despise with his entire being, and after some more moments the splintered branch finally slid out of the wound, glistering red in the sun's weak rays.   
  
The elf dropped it without giving it a second glance, mild disgust written on his face, and took the bandages Anardir handed him, frowning slightly when he saw bright red blood flow out of the man's body. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, he thought worriedly as he pressed two thick pads against both the exit and entry wound and, again with Anardir's help, wrapped a long strip of linen around Aragorn's middle until he was satisfied that it would hold.   
  
He quickly fastened the end of the bandage, draped the ranger's now rather torn coat over his patient and leaned back to sit on his haunches, wiping his brow to get rid of the sweat that had somehow accumulated there and leaving a thick, bloody streak on his forehead that neither he nor any of his companions noticed.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Legolas' worried, pressing voice made him look up, and he met his prince's apprehensive stare with what he hoped was a calm, professional expression on his face.  
"He will be fine once we get him back to the palace, though he will have to rest for some days, I fear."  
  
The blonde prince narrowed his eyes at him in obvious disbelief, his uninjured left hand still gripping Aragorn's shoulder as if reassuring himself that the man was still alive and wouldn't depart from this world anytime soon either. Celylith sighed. So much for his calm, professional healer expression.  
  
"Truly, my friend," he tried to assure the anxious elf. "As long as we manage to keep the bleeding under control until we get back home, Strider will be just fine. Trust me, Legolas."  
  
Legolas shifted uneasily, obviously torn.  
"I do, but…"  
  
Celylith smiled slightly and gently pulled Aragorn's unconscious body back, out of his friend's grasp and wrapped him more tightly into his cloak. Without really looking he knew that Legolas had shrugged out of his cape as well and took it with a small sigh.  
"Trust me," he repeated as he drew the material around the man's shoulder. "He will be alright, but we need to get him back now. Both of you, to be precise."  
  
The elven prince looked at him unwillingly, his bruised face creasing into a frown under the bandage that wound around his head.  
"I am fine. I can carry hi…"  
  
"No," Celylith shook his head and motioned Anardir to steady Legolas who had begun swaying slightly back and forth. "You are neither fine nor are you fit to carry anything that is heavier than a couple of feathers, and even about that I'm not yet sure. I will carry him."  
  
"Celylith, I can order you."  
  
"No, you can't," the silver haired elf shook his head again, looking rather smug while doing so one might add. "You have a head injury and are obviously not thinking clearly."   
  
He took up the limp body of the young ranger and stood to his feet, ignoring the dark glares Legolas shot him which were slightly less intimidating than usual since he was apparently having a hard time concentrating on his face.  
"And now, my lord, I would advise you to let Anardir help you back to the horses or _I _will order _him _to carry _you_."  
  
Legolas attempted to give his childhood friend Lord Elrond's _look _but failed miserably since his vision became increasingly blurry by the second, and so he finally admitted defeat with a weary sigh and allowed Anardir to steady him.  
"I will get you for this," he announced darkly when he and Anardir were following Celylith into the direction of the small shed. "Trust me, _mellon nín_. I will get you for this."  
  
Celylith's pealing laughter was the only answer he received at first, and it took the other elf apparently some time to regain his breath to answer him, something that Legolas didn't really notice. The prince was beginning to suspect that he was being followed by a very stealthy, but obviously utterly deranged and sadistic lunatic who was doing nothing but thumping invisible rocks against his head. And said lunatic was apparently very good at what he was doing, too.  
  
"I can hardly wait," Celylith snickered softly, something rather unbefitting an elf lord, Legolas thought darkly. "Once I have safely delivered you two into Hithrawyn's waiting hands, I don't really mind, to be honest."  
  
Legolas' face turned even whiter, something Anardir hadn't thought possible, as his headache even increased, something Legolas hadn't thought possible.  
"You just had to say it, hadn't you?" he questioned in a rather weak, dejected tone of voice as they climbed a small hill just next to the shed, doing his best not to stumble and fall.   
  
Celylith shrugged as best as he could with Aragorn lying in his arms, and he stopped on the peak of the small, softly sloping hill and turned back to the two other elves.  
"I guess so, my lord."  
  
His eyes wandered over Aragorn's pale, still face and then over Legolas' which was even paler and pinched with pain and the obvious effort to remain on his feet. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to smile, and in a matter of seconds he was grinning broadly.  
  
Legolas might have been close to losing consciousness, but he wasn't entirely gone yet, and so he drew himself up to his full height and gave Celylith his darkest and most regal look, a display that lost some of its threatening effect since the only thing that really kept him upright was Anardir's arm.  
"And what," he asked in an icy whisper that would have made his father proud, "is so very amusing about our situation, Lord Celylith?"  
  
Celylith quickly bit back his laughter and did his best to assume an expression of hurt innocence, something he had learned very quickly when he had first met Legolas as a young elfling.  
"Nothing, my prince. It is just…"  
  
"Yes?!"  
  
The grin on the silver haired elf's face reached improbable dimensions when he finally answered, apparently doing his best not to dissolve into laughter after all.  
"Only you! Only you would manage to do something like this! By all the Valar, how do you _do _it?"  
  
Legolas refrained from shaking his head, knowing full well how it would react to an action as foolish as that.  
"It was an accident, Celylith! We didn't plan it or anything!"  
  
"Of course you didn't," the other elf agreed and slowly began to descend the small hill, careful not to jostle the still body of the young man he held more than necessary. "But you still managed to impale yourselves on a tree!"  
  
"I didn't impale myself, that was Estel…"  
  
"A mere coincidence, it might just as well have been you," Celylith brushed his argument aside, already looking for their horses. He grinned even more broadly and shook his head again. "And it was the only tree in sight, too!"  
  
"Celylith?"  
  
"Yes, my lord?"  
  
"Be quiet."  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
  
  
  
Some hours later, Celylith stopped his horse at the beginning of the long, broad alley that led up to the gates of the Palace of Mirkwood, an expression on his face that looked terrified more than anything else.  
  
The silver haired elf's mind was spinning so fast that he was beginning to feel sick just by listening to a third of his thoughts. He needed to get Legolas and Aragorn back to the palace. At the palace waited Hithrawyn, King Thranduil and his father. Hithrawyn, King Thranduil and his father would be most displeased when they saw the state Legolas and Aragorn were in. Since he was – as he had predicted – the only person conscious and/or what one would call lucid, all three of them would kill him, one probably more painfully than the last.  
  
O the Valar, what had he done to deserve such a fate?  
  
"Sir?" Anardir's soft voice drew him out of his mildly panicked thoughts, and he slowly turned around, careful not to let the unconscious body he held up in front of him fall.   
  
The golden haired elf tightened his grip on the elf who sat in front of him, looking at Celylith with eyes that were so wide and gleaming in the falling darkness that the other elf was sure that they could be seen for miles by anyone who had eyes to do so.  
  
"Shouldn't we go on, sir?" Anardir repeated, giving the motionless figure of the other elf a taxing stare. "Then again, we could simply drop them at the gates and head for Mithlond as fast as possible."  
  
Celylith had to shake his head forcefully to rid himself of this very tempting idea.   
"No, Anardir, I think that wouldn't be such a good idea. But it sounds very inviting, I'll freely admit that."  
  
"Well," the other shrugged, "It was worth a try."  
  
Celylith gave the golden haired elf a look that was probably meant to express agreement and reassurance but that in reality did not even remotely express either, and quickly slipped his right hand under the man's chin who sat in front of him, slightly slumped forward.   
  
It had only been after a rather long argument that had virtually got them nowhere that Legolas had accepted that first, he wouldn't be allowed to take Aragorn onto his horse and that second, he would _definitely _not be allowed to ride alone, not with a head injury and other injuries. Well, to say that the prince had accepted it went a little far, but in the end he had relented when it had become clear that Celylith's mind was set on this and when the exhaustion and stress of the last few hours had caught up with him. When they had left the small shed behind, Celylith inwardly vowing to come back in the near future and burn it as a precaution, Legolas and Anardir had been on one horse and Celylith had taken the young ranger onto his. Although he didn't believe the other's injury to be too serious, he felt better knowing that he would notice right away should the bleeding start anew.  
  
After a few moments he was satisfied that the man's pulse was strong and steady, and when he moved his hand up to his forehead and let it linger there for a moment, he found that even his temperature was only a little higher than what he thought to be a human's wont. Celylith released a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding all the time. Aragorn was most probably going to be alright, just like he had told his prince.  
  
Unless, a small, rather cynical voice injected, the ranger somehow managed to catch a horrible, undetectable infection that could only be cured with the root of a plant that was thought to be extinct, but that was discovered to have survived on a small patch of land next to the Dark Lord's tower. Celylith began to grin. That wouldn't surprise him in the slightest, and said root would probably have to be cut at full moon with one hand tied behind one's back or wearing clothes made of leaves or something similarly ridiculous in order not to lose its potency.  
  
"Sir?" Anardir's voice prompted again, and Celylith reluctantly returned to the present which was not nearly as amusing as his little daydream of walking up to the Dark Lord's front door and asking politely for his permission to destroy his garden, but what other choice did he have?  
  
"Yes," he told the blonde elf. "We should go before my father or the king decides to send out search parties. There is nothing more humiliating than being dragged back by a search party."  
  
Anardir nodded, but still neither of the two made a move to spur on their horses. Celylith turned back to the palace gates that seemed to become darker and more menacing as the sun's light slowly faded, then back to have another look at Aragorn's still body, and finally back to the other elf.  
  
"How is the prince doing?" he asked in an obvious attempt to stall.  
  
Anardir frowned, his mood plummeting to new, unheard-of depths. He carefully twisted his body to the side in an attempt to look into the face of the elf that was seated in front of him, something to which Legolas had consented only with a great many glares and muttered curses that had been new even to Celylith's ears.  
  
"Unchanged," he announced after a second, letting his eyes wander over the unmoving figure of his prince. "I am still not sure whether he is sleeping or semiconscious, though."  
  
Celylith frowned as well, the worry he felt in his heart increasing again. He didn't believe that Legolas had really suffered a serious head injury, as he had been far too lucid, and, if he was honest, annoying a few hours before, but still, he wouldn't feel at ease until Hithrawyn had confirmed his diagnosis. He wasn't a healer, nor had he ever wanted to, and the fact that Legolas' eyes were half-lidded but that he still couldn't be woken from what looked on first glance like normal elvish sleep did nothing calm him down.  
  
That thought seemed to convince him to finally start moving, and with a deep, resigned sounding sigh the silver haired elf began to direct his horse down the alley into the direction of the palace gates. Anardir gave the darkening, quite inviting woods a last look and followed the captain, Aragorn's horse and Rashwe, Legolas' animal that had been shooting the elf and his horse that now bore its master reproachful and dark glares, trailing dutifully behind.  
  
Faster than either of them would have thought possible they passed the gates, and, ignoring the concerned and not all too surprised questions of the guards, reached the huge courtyard where they finally came to a stop in front of one of the side-entrances that was a lot closer to the healing wing than the main one. Besides, Celylith thought dryly as his horse stopped in front of the stairs, pounding sound of its hooves echoing loudly through the courtyard that had been cleared of snow earlier today (something Celylith already lamented, for it would have silenced their approach considerably had the stone tiles been covered with snow), there was also the chance that their arrival would draw less attention this way.  
  
Right, he told himself as he dismounted and carefully pulled the unconscious ranger down from his horse's back, nobody would notice. He did his best to ignore the handful of elves who had already gathered around their four horses and began to make his way up the stairs, hearing that Anardir did the same. Nobody would notice them, and he would simply get those two to the healing wing and then leave Mirkwood, never to be seen again…  
  
"And what, Captain, is the meaning of this?"  
  
If it was possible for a heart to freeze and at the same time do a somersault in one's chest, Celylith's heart did just that. He took a deep breath and then another, but reminded himself just in time that now was definitely not the time to start hyperventilating. Slowly, he tore his gaze from Aragorn's scratched, sleeping face, wishing for nothing more than to be able to lose consciousness himself, and after a heartbeat he raised his eyes to meet a pair of dark green ones he knew only too well.  
  
"Uhm," he began gracelessly, taking another hasty breath. "I … had nothing to do with it, sir!"  
  
The tall, silver haired elf that barred his way merely raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.  
"Really?"  
  
Celylith shifted the man in his arms slightly, sensing how Anardir did his best to become invisible who was carrying the now definitely unconscious Legolas. No-one enjoyed encountering Lord Celythramir, the king's most important military advisor, in a bad mood, and it was quite obvious that he was in a bad mood right now.  
  
"Really, _ada_," he tried to assure his father who simply continued looking at him, projecting an air of such disbelief that Celylith automatically asked himself why he was even trying. "It was an accident. But we really need to get them to Hithrawyn, even though their injuries are not very serious this time, I think."  
  
Celythramir gave his far too innocent-looking son a long look and nodded after a moment, turning slightly to the right to nod at a servant who had just stepped out of the palace, apparently attracted by the low murmuring of the elves that had gathered around the small troupe by now.  
  
"Please inform the king of the prince's arrival and tell him that we are waiting for him in the healing wing," he told the other elf who simply nodded and disappeared back into the building.  
  
The silver haired elf surveyed the two young elves in front of him and stepped aside, motioning them to precede him.  
"You will make Master Hithrawyn so very happy."  
  
Celylith grimaced; that was a thought he had been trying to avoid for the past few hours.   
  
His father's a little too calm voice tore him quickly out of his thoughts.  
"What happened, my son?"  
  
The young elf grimaced again. His father would definitely not like this.  
"As I said, it was an accident. The prince and Estel…"  
  
"…got ambushed by orcs. Or wargs. Or wolves. Or one of them got stuck in the Forest River and the other tried to rescue him."  
  
Celylith shook his head, asking himself for a moment how his father knew that they had been close to the Forest River. After a second he remembered the rest of the hunting party that had probably arrived here earlier today; they would of course have informed his father and the captains of the guard of what had happened.  
  
Before he could answer, a flood of healers seemed to wash out of the large doors that led to the healing wing some dozen feet in front of them, and within a second Celylith found himself relieved of his burden. He watched rather stunned how the healers carried their two new patients off, giving Hithrawyn who was standing on the doorstep and whose face was twitching rather noticeably nervous looks and whispering amongst themselves.  
  
A few moments later they were gone, even Anardir and Hithrawyn who had appeared torn between the urge to wring his hands and use them to strangle the two young beings who were borne through the doors of what he considered _his _healing wing. Blinking slowly, Celylith began to follow them, needing a few moments to remember what they had been talking about.  
  
"No, father. Nothing like that happened. They…"  
  
"Yes?" his father prompted, exasperation in his voice.  
  
Celylith steeled himself, stopped briefly and clenched his jaw. The silver haired elf met his father's eyes, noticing with some trepidation that they were nearly at the doors to the healing wing by now.  
  
"We … had a little ride on the sledges that are used for the trade with Esgaroth. The prince and Strider crashed theirs into a fallen tree. My diagnosis is that Prince Legolas has a light concussion and a rather badly scratched and bruised and arm and Estel…"  
  
"Yes?" Celythramir prompted again, his voice sounding suddenly rather tired and hoarse. He was obviously not looking forward to finding out what injury Lord Elrond's son had managed to sustain this time.  
  
Celylith took another deep breath, wondering shortly if you could damage your brain with too much oxygen.  
"And Estel impaled himself on a branch." He watched with somewhat detached interest how his father's face turned a peculiarly red colour and quickly tried to reassure him. "It hit nothing vital." His father was still staring at him as if he had just stated that Lady Galadriel had a horde of dwarven admirers, and so he added, "I removed it and we could stop the bleeding. Since he hasn't bled to death and there are no visible signs for an infection, I believe that he will swiftly recover, as always."  
  
Celythramir took a deep breath and whirled around, following the healers. When they had reached the doors leading to the healing wing, he turned around and faced his son again, the red colour on his face fading slowly.  
"Let me summarise all this. You decided to have a 'little ride on the sledges'."  
  
Celylith hung his head and resisted the urge to bang the same against the rather solid-looking oaken doors. There was no reasoning with his father when he was using this tone of voice.  
"Yes, _ada_."  
  
His father was obviously not moved by his distress and continued, a glint in his eyes that was quite indescribable.  
"Despite the fact that you know better than to allow them to do something like this, you let them have this 'little ride on the sledges' and they promptly 'crashed into a fallen tree'."  
  
"Yes, _ada_."  
  
"And as a result Prince Legolas has a concussion and Valar-know-what other injuries, and Lord Elrond's son 'impaled himself on a branch'."  
  
"Yes, _ada_."  
  
The older elf narrowed his eyes at the literally shrinking figure of his son.  
"Just what sounds so very _wrong _about all this?" he added in a low, rather dangerous voice.  
  
Celylith didn't answer. His father was right, it all was his fault. He never should have allowed Legolas to set a single foot on one of the sledges, and now no-one but he was to blame.  
"I am sorry, my lord," he finally whispered. "I shouldn't have allowed the prince to do it, and neither should I have allowed Estel anywhere near the river. I am…"  
  
Before he could say more, his father had taken a step forward, and a slender, cool hand was placed under Celylith's chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. Celythramir looked at his son with remorseful eyes; he hadn't meant to awake guilt in his heart. Both Celylith and the prince were too quick and too keen to blame themselves, and anyone who knew Prince Legolas knew that even the Lady Galadriel would have a hard time convincing him not to do something he had decided on doing. And when even the Lady of the Golden Wood was fated to fail, how should his son succeed? he asked himself wryly.  
  
"It was not your fault, _ion nín_," he told the younger elf seriously. "Both of them are adults and make their own decisions. Older and wiser elves than you have failed when trying to convince the prince to abandon one of his plans. I am sure you did what you could, for the Prince and for Estel as well."  
  
"It was not enough," Celylith stated softly, guilt etched onto his face.  
  
"It was," his father shook his head. "They are still alive, are they not?"  
  
The younger elf slowly began to smile and nodded his head, but before he could reply both of them looked up when they heard footsteps that were quickly coming closer, and it were footsteps they knew very well. Celylith almost closed his eyes and resisted the urge to hide behind his father as he had done when he had been a young elfling. He knew only one person who could express bad temper and anger through the rhythm of his footsteps: King Thranduil.  
  
'O Ilúvatar,' Celylith began to pray, looking at his father with eyes that distinctly reminded the older elf of a cornered animal, 'Please, what have I done to deserve this fate?'  
  
Celythramir watched for a few seconds how his son's face drained of all colour, and finally shook his head, grabbed his shoulder and gave him a gentle push into the direction of the rooms where the healers had taken the prince and the young ranger.  
  
"Go," he told Celylith, "Go and see how they are doing. I will explain to the king what happened."  
  
Celylith looked up with wide eyes and seemed to be one the verge of asking a question, but then another, apparently more intelligent part of him took over and he nodded quickly.  
"Thank you, father. I will be with them if you or," he took a deep breath, "the king need me."  
  
The younger elf gave his father a small bow and disappeared inside the healing chambers with the stealth and speed that did a warrior of Mirkwood justice.  
  
Celythramir turned back around, a small smile on his lips that quickly faded when he heard the footsteps of his king that were quickly drawing closer, footsteps that did not sound happy at all. The silver haired elf sighed and straightened his back, green eyes fixed unwaveringly on the end of the corridor where King Thranduil would be appearing any second now.  
  
He was far too old and experienced to be afraid of the son of Oropher, but to be perfectly honest, he was feeling a tiny bit uneasy at the prospect of facing a worried, angry and ill-tempered Thranduil. He shook his head slowly as the irate, positively fuming figure of his liege appeared round the corner, moving with the purposefulness of a troll that had just rudely been awoken from hibernation.  
  
As soon as Prince Legolas and Strider had regained consciousness, he would have a little talk with them and his son. Royalty or not, there were some things one simply did not do and went unpunished, and getting him, Lord Celythramir of Mirkwood, into such a position was one of them.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _mellon nín - my friend  
ada - father (daddy)  
ion nín - my son_  
  
  
  
  
**See? They're fine - or they will be. *shrugs* Same difference. Please note that I never stated how long that condition will last... *evil laugh* Okay,** **so the next chapter will be here on ... hmm, what about Thursday? Then we will see more of the most pitiable healer of all of ME, find out how Aragorn and Legolas are _really_ doing and finally meet the evil guys! As always, reviews are much appreciated! So: Review? Yes please! **  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Aratfeniel** - You don't like cold? Really? I love snow and ice, even thought I have to admit that falling onto snow _can_ be rather cold. *shrugs* But falling ontp snow is basically what snowball fights are all about, so... *g* Don't worry, we'll have some blood and all that in here, so you should be happy...  
**Deana** - LOL, yes, flying elf indeed. Unfortunately there is that stupid, annoying little thing called gravity, it ruins all the fun all the time... It's great to hear that you enjoy my weird little story so much, and don't worry, Legolas has sustained some injuries, as has Estel. Not too much though since he has to get better so he can get captured soon ... Oops, did I say that out loud? *evil grin* Just ignore that comment, alright?  
**LOTRFaith** - *g* No, I definitely won't get away now. Not a chance, unfortunately, and I was SO looking forward to posting without you noticing! *hangs head* Well, you can't have everything, can you? *g* Great you like Celylith and Anardir, they are both not very happy right now. *shrugs* Can you blame them? Not really, I think....  
**Amelie** - *defensively* Hey, I didn't know you were going to surgery! I hope it's nothing too serious? Personally I am mortally afraid of doctors and hospitals, which is probably connected to the fact that about 2/3 of my family are doctors. *g* *blushes* Thanks for saying that my writing has improved. I think so myself, kinda, and sometimes when I'm reading AEFAE I'm cringing in embarassment. *laughs* Rather often, actually. Well, I do hope you're better now! Thanks for reviewing!  
**Calenore** - Indeed, they ran into a tree, which _shouldn't_ be too awful, you're right there. Then again, this is _my_ story, meaning that lots of weird, dangerous, painful things can happen to you, especially when you're a certain elf and/or ranger... *g* Thanks for reviewing!  
**Nikara** - That's always the question, isn't it? Should one be happy about the cliffies (for they bring action and angst in their wake) or be mortally afraid? I for my part love them, but I'm not exactly what you would consider "normal" either... Great you liked the little colour-bit, it was just one of those spontaneous, weird little ideas I get continuously when writing. *sighs* I'm can't stop them, I'm completely helpless!  
**Gwyn** - So, I can KILL Celylith, but not premanently? I'm sorry, but I don't get that. I don't do this kind of thing - if I kill people, they're dead. Last story Legolas and Aragorn never got the chance to properly check if Celylith was dead or alive, but I usually don't bring people back from the dead. It's always a little bit like a "deus ex machina", I never liked it. *shrugs* That's me. But I admit that he probably longs to be dead to be rid of them - and you're right, we can't have that! *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - You do realise that threatening me and stuffing snow in my clothes won't help getting the chapter more quickly? Besides, I am the proud survivor of more than a hundred snowball fights with my older brother and his friends - all-goes, no-rules snowball fights. You can't scare me!! *shakes fist* But yes, I'm an evil person, or at least my alter ego is, which is the same thing since she's a part of me - I think. I never really thought about it. *g* And I will ask and reveal that English or American English or whatever is not my first language: What does "spaz" mean? Is it a verb? To spaz? *looks confused*  
**Dha-Gal** - *greedily grabs bag of Skittles* I LOVE skittles! Only the green ones though - they're so wonderful! Ambrosia is nothing compared to them! *calms down slightly* Thank you. I will greedi ... gladly accept this gift from you. I am glad I could make you happy with my little cliffy. *g* Somehow I have the feeling that Legolas feels pain all the time! He really is a poor little elfling... *huggles him* Well yes, THOM was 475 pages, but they're word document pages. It wouldn't be nearly as much in a real book. *stops huggling Legolas and huggles Dha-Gal instead* Thank you for all your reviews and compliments! It's great you like this!  
**Firnsarnien** - Rocket launchers, eh? Well ... I'll think of something. You can't intimidate me! *shakes fist and grin sheepishly* They taught me that in the "How to stand up to your readers"-class. It's not really working, huh? *shrugs* Ah, what the heck. *beams* Thanks for saying that I write the worst cliffies! That really means a lot to me! *whistles innocently* Huh? Aragorn and Legolas get hurt in the crash? Whatever gave you that idea? *shakes head* Really, you're having silly thoughts... *g* Well, as I said in the A/N, you're getting your Elf Angst, but not too much. Okay? *sighs* That was a really stupid question, right?  
**Alisha B** - *awed* You are truly a great healer, Mistress Alisha! You managed to stop the bleeding with a SINGLE band-aid? You must be the greates healer in all of ME ... *notices Elrond's dark look* after the Lord of Imladris, of course. *pats Elrond's head* You're the best, no doubt. *g* And I completely agree with you. It wasn't that bad, and all the people here are exaggerating things horribly! But: How do you know they're simply unconscious? I never said that... *inches backwards cackling maniacally* And I'm sorry for distracting you from your work; I know exactly what you mean. I do it all the time as well...   
**TrustingFriendship** - You're reading my mind. *g* They indeed need to get back to the palace to mend a litle before getting into the REALLY bad trouble - one of the rules of Nili fics! No-one must get into deep trouble when being in a really bad condition - story endings excluded. During the last three or four chapters everything is allowed. *evil grin* Thanks a lot for all your reviews! I probably said it before but I thought I'd say it again. *g*  
**Leggylover03** - *dubious look* I very much doubt that you are able not to speak of Aragorn pain for more than two reviews in a row! *g* There's nothing wring with that too... And I have to disagree, this was not an evil cliffy. There are much worse ones to come, just you wait! *evil grin*  
**ManuKu** - Knuddelflecken sind halt die Strafe fuer langes Nicht-Reviewen! Du kannst doch nicht von mir verlangen, dass ich meine Begeisterung so lange im Zaume halte, oder? *grosse Augen* Man kann Zwerchfelle ins Fitnesstudio schicken? Na, wenn ich das frueher gewusst haette, dann haette ich das garantiert gemacht, bevor ich 'Ice Age' gesehen haette. Ich liebe diesen Fell, und ein trainiertes Zwerchfell waere da schon ganz nuetzlich... *g* Ach, du magst diese Legolas-Agent-von-was-weiss-ich-was-Geschichten? Ich gebe offen zu, dass das nicht so meine Lieblinge sind, aber ich glaube, ich habe noch ein paar Szenen dieser Art - die ich eher als Richtig-saurer-Waldelb bezeichnen wuerde - in petto! Ich muss allerdings zugeben, dass das mit der Jahreszeit ein totaler Zufall ist, daran hatte ich gar nicht gedacht. Jetzt wo du's sagst allerdings... *g* Vielen Dank fuer deine Reviews, es ist schon, dich wieder dabei zu haben! *Doppelknuddel*  
**Jenny** - *g* Gollumette - I had completely forgotten about that one! Great, I love it! And it's not me who needs stopping - it's my alter ego! She's too powerful for me ... HELP! *g* Thanks for reviewing nonetheless, there are no cliffies in the near future. Scout's honour.  
**Mouse5** - Yeah, I guess you really could see it coming. Great you liked it though, personally I don't think it was too bad, really. And now that I think about it, the Aussies I've met were really willing to bet on anything - might be a national disease... *grins and frowns* There are no such things as national diseases, right?  
**Bailey** - Uhm, well ... no, she wouldn't. My alter ego's quite nice once you get to know her. She's not THAT bad, really. And it wasn't that bad a cliffy either. Rather one of the harmless, enjoyable sort, right? Right? *sighs* I guess not. And you're right, there will indeed be a bit Legolas angst in the next few chapters - that elf is just too easy to read, isn't he? *g* Well, I do hope the cliffy didn't shock you too much, and it's great to have you back! Thanks for reviewing!  
**Firniswin** - Wow, you're volunteering at your church? I'm very much impressed - the last time I was inside a church was when I was baptised. I must have been five years old or something. *shrugs* Well, going to a Jesuit school does wonders for dimishing your faith to nothing. It's amazing, really, and not at all what they're intending, I imagine... *g* And don't worry about Hithrawyn, he wouldn't REALLY kill them - I think...  
**CrazyLOTFfan** - *g* Great to see that you enjoy cliffies so much! Mind you, I could have guessed really, you are that insane Canadian girl, aren't you? And you people still don't want a Nili Day, right? *sighs* Well, you can't have everything... And yes, you're right, that is indeed the pattern of my story, more or less at least. They're kind of stupis, it works every time... *g*   
**Shanna** - Okay, I have to admit I have a slight problem here: I do not speak a single word of Spanish. Well, that's not really correct, I might know three or four, but not much more than that. I do know Latin however, so I can guess what it means, therefore: Thank you very much! I hope this update was quick enough and you didn't get too impatient. Thanks a lot for the review which looked indeed very nice in Spanish!  
**Conn JS1** - *blushing* Thank you very much! Your compliments are definitely not good for my ego - they kind of give me delusions of grandeur - but are still very nice to hear! *g* It's very nice to hear that you're enjoying this story so far - and it's not really taking an effort to write them, they're writing themselves, which is really disconcerting now that I think about it. *g* Thanks for the very nice review!  
**Suzi9** - *pats her shoulder encouragingly* Don't cry, now - that happens to me all the time. That's the reason why I have become obsessed with saving everything every five seconds - it might take some time, but this way you make sure that you don't lose too many things. Then again, the one time I DO forget to save something, the computer crashes as if it knows - very scary... Computers are evil, we all know that. Still, I hope yours will get better soon - we love them nonetheless, right?  
**Mystic Girl1** - *verbeugt sich* Ich bin immer gluecklich, jemanden den Dienstag zu retten. Dienstage sind furchtbar, fast so schlimm wie Montage, aber nur fast. *g* Ich wollte ja auch immer einen Langbogen probieren, habe aber das ganz dumpfe Gefuehl, dass ich da ein wenig zu schwach fuer bin. Ich habe mal in England eine Reportage drueber gesehen, und da musste man Rambo Junior fuer sein. Unfair ist das Leben. LOL, dass mit Aragorn und dem Fluss geht mir ganz aehnlich. Er ist ja wirklich manchmal ein wenig dreckig, nech? *g* Du treibst also Verkaeufer in den Wahnsinn? Habe ich neulich auch gemacht, mit einem Bertelsmann-Vertreter. Ich galube, der war am Ende ganz schoen fertig... Also ehrlich, ich fand den cliffy gar nicht so schlimm. Haette schlimmer sein koennen. *g* Huh? Warum solltest du ungebracht werden? Sind deine Leser so rabiat? Na ja, wie dem auch sei, ich hoffe, dir geht es gut; vielen Dank fuer die lange Review! *knuddelt*  
**Louise_Oblique** - Hmm, you are the first one who actually sees this as part of a series. I guess it is one by now, but it still feels kinda weird reading it. *shrugs* You're right though. Great to hear that you enjoy the 'series' (*g*) so much, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Gimli'sBeard** - You really are collecting screen names, right? *g* Well, nothing to say against that, I guess - though I for my part am having more than enough trouble remembering my own... *wide-eyed* You want to hit me with a squirrel or a duck? That's really evil, mate, always remember: Dead authors can't post. Besides, it wasn't that evil, now was it? No, it wasn't. I won't even ask why you have a cheese hat though. There are some things not even I need to know. *g*  
**Lady Elessar** - Uhm ... huh? A sledge? Okay, let's see... (1) A vehicle mounted on runners for transportation over snow [syn: sled, sleigh]; (2) A strong vehicle with low runners or low wheels; or one without wheels or runners, made of plank slightly turned up at one end, used for transporting loads upon the snow, ice, or bare ground; a sled; (3) A sleigh [Eng.]; (4) A hurdle on which, formerly, traitors were drawn to the place of execution. [Eng.] Hmm, I didn't know about (4). You learn something new every day, I guess... Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know that the word was so uncommon. It never even crossed my mind, I'm afraid...  
**Seveawen** - Uhm, okay, yes, you're getting married. Well, in fact it's _Seveawen_ who's getting married and ... *trails off* Of course you are, forget I said anything. *g* *sternly* Pizza is bad for you. Listen to your doctors, they know best. *g* And don't worry, I wouldn't dream about telling anyone that you were here. Your secret's safe with me. Promise.  
**Just Jordy** - It was my pleasure to put a note for you in here, I always do that. When you people review the least I can do is reply, right? Your reviews do indeed encourage me, so keep on writing them! *winks*   
**Shauna** - Ouch - three times? That's gotta hurt... I am of course glad that you like it so much, but would prefer you to stay in your chair. I can't have you fall out of it and hurt yourself. *g* The answer to the questiojn of how I could stop here is rather simple though: I'm evil? That helps enormously, really... *g* I'm very flattered that you put this onto your favourites list - thanks! And thanks for the review as well, they really help and encourage me loads!  
**Maerz** - Ich gebe zu, dass ich regelmaessig auch ziemlich doll lache. Meistens jedoch gar nicht so sehr, da reicht's dann nur fuer 'n muedes Grinsen... LOL, du koenntest Recht haben. Arwen ist definitiv am Ar***, kannst du dir vorstellen, mit Aragorn verheiratet zu sein? *ueberlegt und faengt an zu sabbern* Och, ich eigentlich schon...Ueber Thranduil findet man wirklich nur wenig, leider. Ich mag ihn ja auch ganz gerne, obwohl er - wie sein Sohn - ein dummer bonder Waldelb ist... *g* **  
Halfling** - LOL, well, I guess Legolas and Aragorn looked cool first and were dead then. *hastily* I didn't mean that literally, it would be no fun at all if I killed them now, right? And I have to admit that you're right; the future won't be too pleasant for our dear elf and ranger - but they don't know that yet, do they? *evil cackle* They could have guessed though... Great you liked the cliffy, it wasn't that bad, was it? Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Carla** - Dafuer, dass das deine erste Review ist, ist sie aber schon sehr gut! *g* Es ist schoen zu hoeren, dass dir meine seltsamen kleinen Geschichtchen gefallen - wie man im Englischen so schoen sagt, the more the merrier. Die Ideen kommen einfach so, ehrlich, ich plane nur die groben Zuege, der ganze Rest ergibt sich so, ganz ohne mein Zutun. Manchmal glaube ich echt, dass die Charaktere einen eigenen Willen haben... Und Recht hast du, so kriegt man VIEL mehr Reviews! Ich danke auf jeden Fall fuer deine Erstlings-Review und hoffe, dass dir der Rest der Geschichte auch gefallen wird!  
**Zam** - *grrrr* Another one! I hate you! I hate ALL of you! I want that bloody DVD too! But I'm broke and won't get it before Christmas - so I'd advise you not to speak of it again! Understood?! I won't react well to it, I'm warning you right now! *calms down slightly* I'm calm, I'm calm... *giggles* A love triangle? Well, that does sound interesting - I'm getting the faint impression that neither Galalith nor Celylith is very happy about that particular idea... *g* Oh, and I wasn't talking all their injuries, only about the injuries Celylith sustained in the last story. I didn't forget about the little drowning incident, believe me, and neither did Legolas, unfortunately. He's still trying to kill me for that one... Great you liked the chapter though, and now let me huggle you for no reason at all. *huggles her* Okay, done.  
**Elenora1** - *smiles innocently* I? Trying to give you a heart attack? Whatever gave you THAT idea? Really, that wasn't my intention at all... Nor my alter ego's. She's really kinda sweet once you get to know her better. Honestly. *g* I'm very impressed by your self-restraint though. If you keep that up, you might get over your fanfic-obsession in ... hmm, what about a decade? Sounds just about right? Mind you, _I_ would need a few centuries - so I'd better not try in the first place.  
**Critternut** - Yeah, I agree with you, Estel has always something to complain about. I think he refers to that as "teasing". *g* I have to disagree though! It's not always Aragorn's fault! This time it definitely was Legolas' - as was the whole Dale/Erebor fiasco last story. *nods firmly* My ranger is innocent. Well, about the sledges: I'm quite sure they had sledges in ME, I honestly can't think of a good reason why they shouldn't. They had elaborate water mills and things like that, so why shouldn't they have a sledge? You also have to remember that the Elves taught Men since they first awoke, so if Men have things like sledges, Elves would probably as well. But that's a matter of interpretation I guess. As I said in the A/N though, Legolas won't get captured soon, sorry. More like ch. 7/8 to be honest. *g*  
**Halo** - Uhm, I was supposed to tell you? *grins sheepishly* Jeez, sorry... You moved? Where did you move to? Still in the same city so we can see each other again when I come back for another visit of your lovely country? I really hope so, because I don't think that we would be able to meet should you have moved to Wales or something equally remote. *g* And I couldn't stand being nice any longer! Three chapters were already too long! And: The bear thing was your fault too! *shakes head* Denying it won't change anything, better accept it... *huggles Halo* Thanks a lot for reviewing! I missed you!  
**Salara** - Na ja, ab und zu haben wir ja alle solche kleinen, etwas albernen Anfaelle, nech? Und du weisst doch: Alter schuetzt vor Dummheit nicht - oder so aehnlich... *g* Ich gebe dir allerdings Recht: Es war vollkommen klar, dass das in die Hose gehen wuerde. Uns auf jeden Fall, Aragorn und Legolas sind da ein wenig schwerer von Begriff scheint es... Und Anardir und Hithrawyn koennen einem wirklich leid tun - bei den beiden Chaoten... *knuddelt Salara* Danke fuer deine Reviews! Mir war gar nicht aufgefallen, wie ich euch beide vermisst habe!  
**Alilacia** - YOU! *huggles fiercely* I misse you! I thought you were DEAD or something! It's great to 'see' you again! Now that I think about it, I did know that you were moving, stupid me. *shakes head* That's me, stupid and a head like a sieve. And yes, YOU inspired that cliffy. I see that you remember the review, and I can assure you that this particular idea was firmly planted in my head by your remarks. *g* So you see, it's only you who is to blame, not me. And you're right, I guess you should run ... *points at horse of angry readers* fast. Very, very fast. *huggles again* Thanks so much for reviewing! I really missed you!  
**Sirithiliel** - Yes, Legolas' horse will be in here. I think Rashwe even appears in this chapter, shortly, and then in chapter *thinks and counts* 6, I think. And then 8. I haven't got any father yet, but I don't think that it will be in here much more often, sorry. *g*   
**ThE iNsAnE oNe** - Yay! Another insane, weird, crazy mega-review from Miki! *g* I have to agree with my dear Nólad: You're a wuss. Anything down to and including - 10 °C is nothing. You should come and try it here in December/January...*evil grin* You'd probably turn into a popsicle. ROTFL, "demonic potato of doom"? That's a new one! An evil mastermind of a potato - interesting description, yes, but oh so very fitting... And you're really having a slight schizophrenic problem here - I think you should call Dr. Freud and get an appointment. Or two. Three. What about a whole bunch? *g* *offended* My stories are NOT getting mushy! It was a once-only-thing! I could tell you things about chapter 8 that would make you WEEP! But I won't because I'm evil! You hear me? EVIL!!! *calms down slightly* Sorry about that. But I do NOT write mush. Understood? *narrows eyes* Alright... Thanks a lot for the usual dose of weirdness! I needed just that!  
**Psychomare** - *g* A ghost that can pelt a person with sharp objects? I have to admit that I would simply LOVE to see that, so I guess I shouldn't update - but then again, I don't overly enjoy being pelted either, so... *shrugs* Update it is then. THanks a lit for your review, and I hope this was soon enough!  
**Marbienl** - Hmm, not Nabur or Dofur? Then it's Frerin or Frór - I don't think I had more dwarven OCs. Yup, it's definitely Frór, and you're WHAT? Abusing him as a lawn ornament? You should be ashamed of yourself, really... *g* LOL, yeah, I guess it was Anardir's fault, kind of at least. I don't think Thranduil would believe either Legolas or Aragorn though should they tell him that - lucky Anardir! *g* You're right though: No normal person could survive treatment such as the own we make them undergo all the time. Estel would have been turned into a vegetable before he had even turned 12, I think! Poor little ranger...  
  
**And, again, thanks a lot for all the wonderful reviews. I told you way too often how much I love them and they encourage me, so I won't say it again. *g* Okay then.**  
  
  
  



	5. Set Into Motion

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
**  
  
A/N:  
  
First of all: I am very sorry. I guess that most of you have read the note in my bio at some time or other, but for those who didn't and are still with us (you really have to be complimented for you patience, people!) I'll say it again: I wanted to update but really couldn't. It was one of these things when everything's against you: My phone company which just announced we needed a new phone number, new internet access numbers, passwords and all that and my university for going on strike and therefore preventing me from updating there - you try telling the people blocking off the buildings that you are writing this LotR story and that you really, really need to get into the library to plug in your laptop to update. *shakes head* Ignorants, the whole lot of them... *g*  
  
Well, anyway, I'm back. I'm very sorry for keeping you waiting, and I really thank you for you patience. There was no ill intent, I swear it.  
  
So, where were we... Yes, we'd just met Celylith's father. It's great to hear that you guys like him (*thinks about huggling the elf lord but reconsiders quickly at his deadly glare*), he's indeed just as bad off as Elrond and Thranduil. I wouldn't be at all surprised if the three needed a therapy at some point or other... *g*  
  
  
Anyway, here is chapter 5, in which we finally meet the bad guys who are already eagerly awaiting their entrance! Also, we see what happens when Hithrawyn gets pushed too far, see how our favourite elf prince and ranger are doing, find out some nice little things from their immediate past and ... hmmm, have a little H/C. Everybody needs that from time to time, right? *nods* Right.  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 5  
  
  
The golden sunbeams danced across the carved stone tiles of the room, creating beautiful and sometimes bizarre patterns. It was a display that would have greatly fascinated Aragorn under normal circumstances, but right now he was far too busy giving Hithrawyn the _look _to be touched by such details.  
  
"Three days?" he asked, his very tone of voice conveying the absurdity of the words. "You don't mean that, do you, Master Hithrawyn?"  
  
The tall, blonde elf simply smiled benignly at him, something that awoke in the man the powerful urge to get out of here, and to get out of here now.  
"Oh, I do, Master Estel. Three days is not nearly long enough, but several of my junior healers came to me and threatened to commit suicide if I let you stay longer. But I believe," he added, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "that some of them also contemplated murder."  
  
Aragorn simply stared at the elf, wondering for a moment wherefrom he got this kind of humou, for he knew from experience that Hithrawyn didn't possess any sense of humour whatsoever. Hithrawyn didn't mean it in a sarcastic way, he concluded after a moment, studying the other's serious face, it had probably really happened.   
  
The young human suppressed a sigh. Ever since he had woken up earlier today in a room in the healing wing of Mirkwood, feeling as if a troll had stabbed him with a big, ugly javelin, had crushed his head half-way and had then filled his throat and chest with sharp stones and sand, and had looked into the grim face of King Thranduil's master healer, he had known he was in trouble. The look Hithrawyn had given him that promised much pain and torment when he had spoken about how Celylith had brought both him and Legolas back yesterday evening had done little to change that conviction.  
  
"But there is no need to keep me here!" he protested, trying to sit up and freezing half-way when the elven healer's eyes seemed to catch fire at that. Grumbling under his breath, he lay back down, ignoring the pain that stabbed through his left side when his back touched the soft mattress.   
  
He tried again and looked at the elf with wide, innocent eyes. Reasonable arguments hadn't worked, so it was time for pleading.  
"Really, I feel fine! It was just a little branch!"  
  
Hithrawyn's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and Aragorn unconsciously shrunk back a little.  
"A 'little branch'?" the healer repeated. "That little branch missed your left lung by inches! I spent the batter part of an hour removing all the splinters that had remained in the wound!"  
  
Aragorn resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the older being.  
"But it missed it! It is simply a flesh wound and nothing serious…"  
  
Before he could finish the sentence, the tickling sensation in his chest which he had been trying to fight off the past few minutes refused to be ignored any longer, and he doubled over in a coughing fit, Hithrawyn's earlier objections to him sitting up forgotten. After half a minute during which he could have sworn his lungs were trying to part company with the rest of him, the coughs finally eased a little and he was able to lie back again, his weakened body trembling with the strain and the stabbing pain that had awoken in his wound.  
  
Still gasping for breath, Aragorn shakily reached up and gratefully took the glass of water that a smug-looking Hithrawyn provided.  
  
"_That _is why," the elf told the young man who was the worst patient he had ever had the misfortune to meet in all his millennia. "In addition to the injury to your side that is slightly infected as I might add, you have sustained a human illness." He looked at the young ranger, managing to look at the same time satisfied and slightly ill at ease. "I have only limited experience with human ailments, and one can never be too careful when treating those affected. Therefore you will remain here for three more days."  
  
Aragorn had regained his breath and put the still half-full glass of water down onto the small nightstand with a thump.  
"It is a cold, Master Elf! Nothing more, nothing less! I do not need to remain abed for three days, and I _certainly _do not need to remain abed in the healing wing!"  
  
"I will be the judge of that, Master Human, if you don't mind," Hithrawyn countered coldly, not at all intimidated by Aragorn's _look_. It appeared, the man decided inwardly, that healers were immune to it, curse it.  
  
"Let me at least return to my room," Aragorn said finally and suppressed another cough. He looked at the blonde elf with wide, pleading eyes, doing his best to look sincere and innocent. "I will recover much better there, and I promise to stay in bed."  
  
Hithrawyn suppressed a large smile. Here it finally was, his opportunity to get this little orc back for what he had done to him these past few months.  
"No."  
  
The man frowned and changed his tactics.  
"Then allow me to get some books. Or _something _to occupy my time."  
  
"No."  
  
Aragorn felt how frustration welled up inside of him, and only the knowledge that Hithrawyn was right and that he _was _too weak to get farther than a few feet stopped him from lunging at the healer. He took a deep breath a looked at the elf with narrowed eyes.  
"What about visitors?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What am I supposed to be doing then?" Aragorn exclaimed, once again doubling over in a coughing fit when his chest protested against such volumes.  
  
Hithrawyn did smile now, and it was a smile that looked slightly malevolent. He reached out and handed the man the glass of water and waited until he had recovered sufficiently before he answered.  
"Rest, Master Human. You will remain here and rest, so that means no book, no visitors, and if I hear that you have set one foot out of this bed I will personally make sure that you drink some of the potions Lord Elrond left behind, and then I'll tie you to aforementioned bed. Understood?"  
  
The young ranger gave him a rebellious look, inwardly deciding that Hithrawyn was displaying some rather disconcerting character traits. For one, the elf seemed to be even more merciless and sadistic than he had thought, and he seemed to suffer some serious delusions of grandeur. Not even his father was this bad, for Elrond had yet to resist one of his _really _innocent, pleading looks.  
  
"This is not conducive to my recovery," he stated darkly and attempted to cross his arms across his chest, an action that was nearly impossible while lying on your back and holding an empty glass of water, as he quickly found out. "You said earlier yourself that Legolas had woken long ago, was well and hasdbeen allowed to leave already, Master Elf. Why can't he come and…"  
  
"Because," Hithrawyn simply declared, feeling happier than he had in a long, long time. To have even one of them at his mercy was actually quite a nice prospect, and the fact that he could drug him if he wanted reassured him even further. "I will not even grace that with a real answer because I absolutely refuse to remember the last time you stayed here and Prince Legolas visited you!"  
  
"That," Aragorn injected sourly, "was a misunderstanding. We didn't try to escape, we were merely trying to … find … some more blankets."  
  
The blonde elf merely stared at him with a raised eyebrow, disbelief emanating from his rigid form in almost palpable waves.  
"And you had forgotten that the blankets are in the wardrobe in every room and not in the corridor leading to the courtyard?"  
  
The young man blinked a few times, feeling how a sudden tiredness washed over him. He blinked again and gave the healer an innocent look that didn't fool the other for even one second.  
"That detail must have slipped our minds."  
  
Hithrawyn clenched his teeth and gave the human a dark look while he reminded himself once again that this was Lord Elrond's foster son. It went beyond his understanding why, but the Lord of Rivendell had apparently a certain … fondness for this insolent creature, and far be it from his mind to displease the Lord of Imladris by strangling the _adan_. Even though it was a really, really tempting idea now that he thought about it…  
  
"Besides," Hithrawyn said before the ranger could add anything to his last statement, "I never said that the prince was well."  
  
The indignant expression on Estel's face disappeared in the fraction of a second and was replaced with worry and concern.  
"What do you mean? Is the head injury more serious than you had thought? Were there any other injuries you missed? Is there…"  
  
"No," the elf held up his hand, inwardly deciding that he needed to get out of this room before he really lost his temper. How anyone could stand the ranger's and the prince's behaviour was beyond him. "No, I didn't miss anything, and the head injury was just as severe as I told Prince Legolas, namely a concussion that would have warranted him staying for another ten hours or so. But," he added, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes, "his Highness saw it fit to ignore my professional recommendations and insisted on leaving the healing wing on his own responsibility."  
  
Aragorn had to suppress a grin. He was rather sure that Legolas hadn't used these rather polite words.  
"So he is well?"  
  
The elven healer nearly rolled his eyes.  
"He is not, as I thought we had established already. His right arm is cut, scratched and bruised, rather badly one might add, and he has a concussion which should never be taken lightly, even for one of our kind."  
  
The dark haired human merely gave him a blank stare.  
"So he is well?" he repeated.  
  
Hithrawyn did roll his eyes now, something he hadn't done for the past two millennia as far as he could remember. If one considered the injuries Prince Legolas and his friends usually suffered, one could probably really say that the prince was well, but that was nothing he planned on admitting to Estel.   
He only gave the man a look so dark that it rivalled those his king had given his son when he had visited him earlier this morning and quickly took the empty glass from his hand when he noticed the way Strider's eyes were beginning to slide shut again.   
  
The elf shook his head. How fragile humans were sometimes … and naïve…  
  
"Rest," he ordered the young man who was on the verge of sleep. "And remember what I told you. All of my healers have orders to inform the palace guard should they see you out of bed."  
  
Aragorn merely blinked tiredly at him, which Hithrawyn optimistically took as a sign of agreement. With a last, sharp nod at the man the elf whirled around and left the room, a small voice inside his head stating warningly that this had been far too easy. The blonde healer pushed that thought to the back of his mind and once again reminded himself of what Lord Celythramir had told him to cheer him up yesterday evening – or to stop him from killing his son, the prince and Estel, that was more likely. Only seven or eight more days and then he would be rid of them, Valar, that was a day he was really looking forward to…  
  
The thin wooden door closed behind the elf with a small thud, and Aragorn stared stupidly at it for a few moments until his brain informed him of the fact that Hithrawyn was gone. It took him even more time to realise that there had probably been something in the water the elf had given him, a mild sedative judging from the way his eyelids were beginning to drop and his every thought felt as if it were stuck in quicksand. It had tasted a little bit bitter now that he thought about it, but he had been too preoccupied gulping it down to soothe his aching throat to care much about the taste…  
  
Damn that elf, he thought sluggishly as he tried to battle the inevitable, this was low, even for Hithrawyn! To drug him like this was nothing short of evil, yes, that was the perfectly correct term for it…  
  
Just before he lost his struggle against the unconsciousness that was laying itself over his senses, he decided that, somehow, he would get out of here. There was no way he was staying here for three days without seeing Legolas so he could tell him that he never wanted to see a sledge again in his whole life.  
  
He would be damned if he let himself be bested by Hithrawyn, and if he knew Legolas and Celylith at all, they would be here when he awoke, no matter what the master healer had to say about it.  
  
If Hithrawyn was truly stupid enough to want a war, he could have it.  
  
  
  
  
A few hours later, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, bathing the lands in a soft, golden light as she seemingly touched the ground.  
  
The palace of the Woodland king looked peaceful and quiet at this time of day when many of its inhabitants were slowly retreating into the warmth and comfort of the buildings after a long and cold day, and there were only a few elves still outside apart from the guards that were right now moving to take over their shift at the gates.  
  
It was an almost serene picture indeed, and it was only slightly disturbed by the rather stealthy movements of two young elves who were presently trying to climb up from one balcony to another a level above it.  
  
"Are you sure this is his room?" the blonde elf asked his companion, the fingers of a bandaged hand inconspicuously moving up his head to fiddle with another bandage that wound around his skull.  
  
The other elf turned from where he had been feeling for handholds in the stones above their heads and gave him a cold stare.  
"I have my sources."  
  
Legolas held his hands up to appease his friend who had been more than unwilling to aid him in this little endeavour and winced when a stab of pain went through his entire right arm.  
"Peace, _mellon nín_. I merely do not want to repeat the experience from last time."  
  
Celylith's dark look turned into a broad smile when the remembered the incident his prince was referring to.  
"That was your fault! I clearly said the right balcony, not the left!"  
  
Now it was the fair haired prince's turn to glare at his companion.  
"You said left!" he retorted heatedly as he soundlessly climbed onto the railing of the balcony they were standing on. This was obviously an argument the two of them had had a lot of times already.  
  
The silver haired elf shook his head and motioned for his friend to precede him, fully prepared to catch him should he lose his footing due to his injured state.  
"I said right, and I don't think the Lady Isáviel will smile at you ever again after you barged into her room. In the middle of the night, I might add."  
  
Legolas grimaced and felt for a crack in the stone, slowly beginning to pull himself up with his left arm. His right arm protested under the strain it was still experiencing, and he clenched his teeth to get the pain under control.  
"The Lady Isáviel was quite pleased to see me," he announced haughtily, doing his best to keep his voice light and not to betray the pain he was experincing. "She started screaming when she saw _you_, my friend."   
  
Celylith simply snorted as he followed his friend up the stone wall, gratefully accepting Legolas' hand, who pulled him up the rest of the way.  
"I seem to remember that quite differently, my lord," he stated and brushed his clothes off, dark blue eyes twinkling evilly when he looked at the carefully neutral face of the other elf. "The fact that you threw that pillow at her because you thought it was Estel lying in the bed did nothing to really help the situation either."  
  
It was a rare thing to see Prince Legolas of Mirkwood actually blush, and so Celylith enormously enjoyed watching the red colour that slowly crept up the sides of his friend's face.  
  
"Would you stop talking about that!? Or the fact that she told her brothers and they threatened to kill me on at least three occasions, prince or not?" Legolas demanded testily, furiously battling the blush that covered his entire face by now, something that made it only worse, of course.  
  
"Of course, my lord," Celylith said smoothly. Ha, he thought gleefully, that should teach him to question his sources!   
  
He had a hard time hiding the grin that threatened to show on his face, because Legolas' face when he had realised that the room he had been standing in wasn't Estel's, but in fact that of a very beautiful and scantily clad, but at this point swearing and spitting mad elf maiden had been priceless indeed. Legolas had been very lucky that they had managed to half convince and half bribe Isáviel to not tell the king; Celylith was sure that King Thranduil would really have killed Legolas this time had he found about their little mishap.  
  
"Could you please stop grinning like a smug monkey!" Legolas hissed, his patience with his friend spent. Ilúvatar, he hadn't been planning to climb into Isáviel's room, for that he was far too mature, even though he had to admit that the lady in question was indeed quite beautiful…  
  
The other elf merely ducked his head to hide his grin.  
"Of course, my lord."  
  
"And stop humouring me!"  
  
"Of course, my lord."  
  
Legolas hung his slightly pounding head and tried to ignore the renewed ache in his arm. It was hopeless; sometimes he was able to swear that Celylith didn't have a bit of respect for him, not a bit at all…  
"Come then," he demanded tiredly, admitting defeat. "Let's go and scare Estel, shall we?"  
  
Celylith was very tempted to repeat his previous answer once again, but both the dark look his prince gave him and the barely visible lines of pain around the other's mouth changed his mind. He had told Legolas that he wasn't well enough yet to climb onto a balcony no matter how much he wanted to visit the ranger, but the fair haired elf had of course only looked at him with that particular look that suggested that he was either a coward or an idiot, and so he had relented, knowing full well that Legolas would do what he wanted anyway, so he might as well help him and try to catch him when he fell.  
  
The other elf had reached the door that led into the dark room adjoining the balcony, and Celylith took two quick steps forward and placed his hand on the other's arm when he was just about to open it.  
"Are you well?" he asked, concerned. "I think you should rest for a while; I really do not want to return to my father bearing the news that you had suffered a relapse or something of that sort because you couldn't resist climbing onto some balconies at night!"  
  
For a moment, Legolas' eyes flashed unwillingly, but then he smiled at the silver haired elf when he saw the sincere worry in his eyes. Besides, he really did not want to hear one of Lord Celythramir's lectures in the near future. When it had become clear that Hithrawyn didn't intend to let them see Estel in the near future – something which was simply appalling in Legolas' opinion – Celylith's father had grabbed both of them and had let them know what exactly he thought of their little "ride on the sledges". A few looks the older elf had given him had been downright murderous, and he had hinted that he would be most displeased if he saw his son hurt or in any more trouble because of Legolas – or the other way round.  
  
"I am fine," he tried to assure his friend. Celylith merely raised an eyebrow at that statement, and so he rolled his eyes and added, "Truly, I am fine. Not Aragorn's 'fine'-fine. I am really fine, but if you insist, I will rest a little once we are inside that reckless human's room." He grinned at the other elf. "If it _is _his room."  
  
"It is," Celylith stated with conviction. "The junior healer was very clear about it, for she was mortally afraid to come anywhere near it."  
  
Legolas who was just opening the door stopped and turned, already half inside the room.  
"She?"  
  
His friend ignored the prince's raised eyebrow and brushed past him into the warm room, careful not to come too close to the other's bandaged right arm.  
"Yes, the healer is a she-elf, which is a mere coincidence, of course."  
  
"Of course," Legolas grinned.  
  
Celylith was too intelligent to retort something to that, because he knew very well that it would only encourage the fair haired prince, and so he turned and quietly closed the door. Legolas gave him a last, smug grin before he surveyed the small, semi-dark room they had just entered. With a quick glance he made sure that Celylith's "informant" had been right and that it was indeed Aragorn's room – he truly didn't think he would survive another encounter like the one with the Lady Isáviel. His human friend had needed over an hour to calm down after that little traitor Celylith had told him about the little mix-up, and even now, more than three weeks after it had happened, Aragorn would look at him from time to time and start snickering without obvious reason.  
  
This time, he sighed inwardly, it really was Aragon's room, thank the Valar. He quickly closed the distance to the bed that was standing in the one corner of the room, next to the fireplace where a merrily burning fire was going. Legolas nodded in satisfaction as he carefully sat down on the edge of the mattress. If the fire was still going, it meant that a healer had been in here not too long ago, and that they should therefore have a little bit of time before they were discovered of forced to hide.  
  
Celylith's almost inaudible footsteps sounded behind him as the silver haired elf walked over the stone tiles of the floor, and a chair to the prince's right creaked softly as the elf sat down. Legolas didn't turn to look at his elven friend though, for he was far too busy studying the bed's occupant in the twilight.  
  
The first thing that Legolas realised was that Hithrawyn had exaggerated, as was the healer's wont. At any other time this fact would have annoyed the prince, but now he found himself sending a prayer of thanks to Eru and every Valar that might be interested. The blonde healer's reason for prohibiting them to visit Aragorn had been that even though the wound caused by the branch was healing nicely and there was little sign of infection, he had contracted a human illness that was potentially very dangerous.  
  
Had they been in Rivendell, Legolas would have seen little cause for alarm, for he knew no elven healer who knew more about human ailments than Lord Elrond, but here in Mirkwood where humans were not exactly welcome and were therefore seldom patients in the healing wing that news had filled him with a strong sense of dread. He knew little about the numerous illnesses a human could contract, and even though Aragorn had often insisted that most of them were easily cured with a few days' bed rest, he was more worried than he had thought he would be.  
  
The fair haired elf carefully reached out and placed a hand on his sleeping friend's forehead, breathing another sigh of relief when he found his theory supported. Aragorn might have a slight fever, yes, but as far as he knew, it was nothing to be overly concerned about. The young ranger's face was still a little pale, even if not as pale as the last time Legolas had seen him, and his breathing sounded a little laboured, but from what little he knew about illnesses, it was all within acceptable parameters.   
  
Legolas sat back a little, giving another sigh. He hadn't realised how worried he had been about that reckless man until now.  
  
"Is it really an illness?" Celylith's soft voice asked next to him, and Legolas turned slightly to look into the rather concerned face of his elven friend, who eyed Aragorn with a mixture of worry and interest. The part of Celylith that was trained in the healing arts was obviously fascinated with the concept of illnesses that materialised without obvious reason.  
  
"Yes," Legolas nodded. "As far as I can see, it is, but it appears to be nothing serious. Hithrawyn is exaggerating again, but I think he did it on purpose this time."  
  
The two elves traded a relieved look that soon disappeared as a definitely wicked sparkle crept into their eyes.  
  
"You know," Celylith began, leaning forward slightly, "I think he has slept long enough now."  
  
"I think you are correct, _mellon nín_," Legolas answered, a broad grin on his face when he looked at his elven friend. "Someone should wake him, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Celylith nodded and returned the grin, but before he could answer, a soft, rather hoarse voice spoke up, making both their heads swivel back into the direction of the bed.  
  
"But for that, my friends, I would have to be asleep, wouldn't I?"  
  
Legolas stared at the face of his human friend accusingly, outrage growing on his face when he saw that Aragorn had opened one eye and was using it to give them an amused look.  
"You are awake!"  
  
The other eye was opened, and Aragorn began to grin when he saw the surprise on the two elves' faces that both of them were trying so hard to hide now. Well done, he told himself. To surprise both of them was quite hard.  
"Of course I am awake," he told his friends and shook his head slightly. "Honestly, how stupid do you think I am? I knew you would come."  
  
"And then you stay awake instead of resting as you should?" Legolas asked indignantly and graced his friend with a reproachful look. "You are sick! You need rest!"  
  
Aragorn blinked, about to point out that there was a flaw in the elf's reasoning, namely that he had been planning himself to wake him up only moments ago, but he thought better of it after a few moments.   
  
He rolled his eyes when he saw the dark looks both Legolas and Celylith were giving him, and said,  
  
"So do you! What are you doing here?" When Legolas didn't answer him and merely gave him a blank stare, he added with a dark look of his own, "I am fine, honestly! You were right; Hithrawyn is really exaggerating. It is a simple cold, nothing to be worried about, really. I've had this kind of illness at least ten times in my life, and as you can see, I am still alive."  
  
"Ten?" Celylith asked, eyeing the man with renewed interest. "Really? Tell me, how…"  
  
"Celylith!" Legolas admonished his elven friend.  
  
"I am merely interested, my lord," the silver haired elf tried to defend himself. "Have you told Hithrawyn that it is nothing serious, then?"  
  
"I have," the ranger nodded darkly. "He is doing this on purpose. I never knew that he was this vengeful!" Both elves nodded their heads in agreement, an appropriate expression of disapproval on their faces, and Aragorn added, "And he drugged me!"  
  
In unison, his friends' faces twisted into grimaces of mock outrage while they tried not to grin too openly.  
"No!" both of them exclaimed. "Really?" Legolas asked. "That is disgraceful! How dare he?!"  
  
Aragorn shot his friend a dark look, and Celylith added thoughtfully,  
  
"Why would he do something like that? I mean, we all know what a wonderful patient you are! Always patient…"  
  
"…obedient…" Legolas nodded.  
  
"…reasonable…"  
  
"…polite…"  
  
"It is evil to insult someone who can't even sit up. It is something that only you heartless Silvan Elves would do," Aragorn declared darkly and attempted to give both of them the _look_, but was interrupted by a hacking coughing fit that left him breathless and clutching his injured side.   
  
All merriment instantly disappeared from his companions' faces and they leaned forward, Celylith grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand and offering it to the young man who merely swatted it away as if it were a poisonous snake.  
  
"Aragorn?" the elven prince asked worriedly. "Are you alright? Should we call a healer?"  
  
The ranger gave his friend a look that openly suggested that he had lost his mind and shook his head vehemently.  
"No!" He took a few deep breaths until his breathing had calmed down somewhat. "They would throw you out and I would die from boredom in the next three days."  
  
"Three days??" Legolas and Celylith exclaimed simultaneously. They must have been practising this somewhere, Aragorn thought amusedly.   
  
"That is exactly what I said," he nodded his head darkly, carefully shifting into a more or less sitting position. "Hithrawyn is displaying some rather negative character traits I think. Character traits that can only be found in orcs and fathers, if you ask me."  
  
Legolas grinned at his friend's comparison while he grasped his right arm and gently helped the man to sit up.  
"Three days is really a little bit too long." Another thought seemed to occur to him, and he added, "Then you will miss our dear Celylith's departure!"  
  
"Departure?" Aragorn asked, turning surprised grey eyes onto the silver haired elf who was sitting in the chair next to his bed. "Where are you going?"  
  
"I am delivering a message to Beorn for the king," Celylith replied sourly. "My father assured me that there is no-one else at the moment, which is complete nonsense if you ask me. In my opinion he merely wants to get me away from the two of you for a bit."  
  
"From us?" Aragorn looked at the elf with the widest, most innocent eyes one could possibly imagine. "Why? What did we do?" He superiorly ignored Celylith's rather lethal look – with two older brothers that was something he had learned a long time ago – and continued, a little bit more seriously. "How long will you be gone?"  
  
"I will leave the day after tomorrow and should be back in about five days, I think, unless I run into some trouble, which I don't expect since I'm not travelling with one of you."   
  
Aragorn and Legolas traded a hurt look, which Celylith ignored just as superiorly as the ranger a moment ago. With a little sister one also learned to ignore quite a lot of things. Celylith quickly wrenched his thoughts away from Calowiël, his sister, who had taken the ships to Valinor half a millennium ago. It was never a good thing to think of her, not even when he had had a good day, and his day had been anything but until now.  
  
"You didn't run into trouble last time," Aragorn reminded the elf. "It was only us, and only because of Legolas' wonderful idea."  
  
"Excuse me?" both elves asked together incredulously. Here they went again, Aragorn thought with an inward snicker.  
  
Celylith managed to speak first, looking at the man with eyes so indignant that Aragorn was sure that his hair would catch fire if the elf didn't stop it soon.  
"I didn't get into trouble? Excuse me?? I had to talk to my father _and _the king _and _Hithrawyn! If that is not trouble, then what is? Besides, I had to listen to Anardir's frenzied ramblings all the time – he thought King Thranduil would throw us into the dungeons once we got back and feed us to the troll."  
  
Legolas shook his head in irritation and divided his dark looks between both his friends now.  
"There is no troll in the dungeons, Celylith, you know that."  
  
"Yes," the elf grinned. "But he still believes what our nursemaids told us when we were twenty, and who am I to destroy his illusions?"  
  
"And," Legolas continued, ignoring his friend's comment, "What do you mean, human? My idea _was _wonderful, it isn't my fault that you can't steer a sledge!"  
  
"Neither can you, apparently," Aragorn shot back and tried to stifle a large yawn, rather unsuccessfully though. To talk to the both of them was so much better than to lie here and stare at the ceiling, wondering how to get back at Hithrawyn, but he was still rather tired...  
  
Legolas protested some more, telling them that it was all Aragorn's clumsiness and that nothing of it was his fault, but neither he nor Celylith had missed the tiredness that had stolen over the human's face or the way his eyelids wanted to slide shut despite his obvious struggles to keep them open.  
  
When the man's eyes closed for the third time in as many minutes, the fair haired prince laughed softly and covered the other's eyes with his left hand, forcing him to keep them closed this time.  
"Sleep, you stubborn human. We shouldn't give Hithrawyn a reason to keep you here even longer, should we?"  
  
Aragorn turned his head unwillingly to the side and opened his eyes again when his friend's hand was withdrawn.  
"I am not staying here for three days without trying to escape this … prison."  
  
"Yes, you will, human," Legolas said firmly, silver-blue eyes flashing determinedly. "I will not have you greet your brothers half-dead because you were too stubborn to admit that you needed rest!"  
  
The man gave him a dark look.  
"I am fine! You are the one wearing a bandage around your head!"  
  
Suddenly, Legolas felt very defensive and shifted slightly to escape his human friend's reproachful look.  
"It is nothing serious, believe me, _mellon nín_," he said, all of the sudden finding that his hands were something truly fascinating. "I … I am sorry, Aragorn. It is my fault that you were nearly killed. I shouldn't have suggested to go anywhere near the river, and I certainly shouldn't have driven against you. It is my fault that your steering cord tore. Without my foolish actions nothing like this would ever have happened."  
  
Aragorn shook his head unwillingly, but he was not surprised. Secretly, he had already been waiting for something like this; Legolas was always more than ready to blame himself for anything that could remotely be considered his fault, stubborn elf that he was.  
  
"Stop doing that!" he commanded firmly, looking hard at his friend until he raised his eyes to meet his searching gaze. "You are not to blame, and you know that perfectly well. It was I who started ramming into both of you, not the other way round! It truly was an accident, my friend. It could have happened to you just as easily."  
  
"Yet it didn't," the elf retorted seriously.  
  
"But it could have," Aragorn repeated. "No-one could have known, not even you. You were not at fault, and I do not blame you. No-one does." The man paused for a second and gave the other a bright smile, noting with some satisfaction that the other's expression was a little bit lighter already. "Nothing happened, Legolas, and I have learned a very important thing."  
  
Legolas shook his head slightly and carefully helped the young ranger to lie down – something he didn't appreciate all that much – before he returned Aragorn's smile with a still rather hesitant one of his own.  
"And what would that be, Estel?"  
  
The dark haired human stifled another yawn, his eyelids fluttering closed again. He didn't know if it were the after-effects of Hithrawyn's insidious little drug or merely his body's way of ensuring that it had enough time to rest and fight the illness, but he was feeling so sleepy that he was sure that he wouldn't be able to remain awake for another minute.  
"That I never – ever – want to see a sledge again, my friend. Never."  
  
The elven prince exchanged a small smile with Celylith and reached out to brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair away from the man's scratched forehead.  
"And you shall not have to, Strider. No more sledges for you. And now sleep, your body needs the rest to get rid of that annoying human ailment."  
  
Aragorn smiled slightly, his body already relaxing as sleep overcame his senses.  
"And … trees too … can be … dangerous … things, them…"  
  
"Very dangerous," Legolas assured his friend, the smile on his face growing even larger. "Devious little plants. Go to sleep."  
  
The young ranger looked as if he wanted to retort something, but before he could speak a single word sleep finally caught up with him and his head rolled a little to the side as his still rather raspy breathing evened out. The two elves remained where they were for a few moments to make sure that the man was resting as comfortably as possible before they stood to their feet, still looking down on their sleeping friend.  
  
"You know that he will be unbearable tomorrow," Celylith predicted darkly. "He always is on the second day in bed."  
  
"We will have to keep him occupied," Legolas shrugged as they slowly made their way back to the balcony doors, "We can help him plot against Hithrawyn, but Eru help me, I am _not _helping him to leave his bed before the healers allow him to!"  
  
"Neither am I," Celylith shook his head fervently, a rather fearful look on his face. "The twins are coming; and the mere idea of having to tell them that their brother died of a human illness because we failed to keep him in bed…"  
  
Both of them shuddered simultaneously, something that would have greatly amused Aragorn had he been able to see it, and that shudder had nothing to do with the cold that assaulted their senses when they stepped outside of the heated room. Both of the twins were incredibly protective of their little brother, and to tell them that Aragorn was hurt was something a sensible elf – or man – avoided at all cost.  
  
"No, we should really try to avoid that," the elven prince said softly, eyes large and dark in his face.  
  
"My thoughts exactly," his companion agreed. But I will probably be gone when they arrive, so it doesn't concern me anyway."  
  
"You, my friend," Legolas muttered darkly as he began to lower himself down onto the balcony beneath them, "are a coward."  
  
Celylith nodded his head firmly, an eager expression on his face. He dropped onto the railing of the balcony with a nearly inaudible thud and quickly straightened again in case his prince needed any help.  
"Of course I am, my lord. But I will stay alive, while the twins will roast you on a spit because you got their little brother into trouble."  
  
Legolas smiled tentatively and took a few deep breaths to rid himself of the headache that had taken up residence behind his forehead. He probably should have listened to Celylith; climbing around at night with a concussion was not necessarily an intelligent idea.  
"They wouldn't."  
  
His friend merely raised a dark silver eyebrow at that, and the prince conceded with a sigh.  
"Alright, they would."  
  
Celylith laughed merrily and shrugged while he turned around and opened the balcony door, and after looking at his retreating back for a few moments Legolas followed his friend, shaking his blonde head. Elladan and Elrohir would truly not be happy when they heard what had happened, and especially the older twin was known for his sometimes rather strong reactions when worried for his human brother…  
  
Legolas shrugged inwardly. Perhaps it was time to take his father up on his offer to throw the twins into the dungeons once they arrived here. It might cause a minor diplomatic crisis between Mirkwood and Rivendell, yes, but in his opinion it would be worth it.  
  
Oh yes, he added mentally after a second. It would definitely be worth it.  
  
  
  
  
At the same time, several dozen miles to the east, a troupe of men was just preparing to make camp. They had been travelling for a long time now, for to cross the distance to here had taken them even longer than it usually would have. To journey anywhere in Wilderland was never easy or something effortlessly done, especially in the winter when snow and ice blocked the few paths that existed, but this time it had been exceptionally bad.   
They had encountered several winter storms, and had got stuck in a small copse of trees for more than two days once when the storm had raged on and made travel impossible, and in addition to that they had needed to make sure that as few people as possible saw them and that they appeared inconspicuous and harmless to the few who _did _see them.  
  
But, Reran decided with a rather tired shake of his head, it had been worth it. Finally, after more than two weeks' hard travelling, they had reached their goal: The dark, intimidating and somewhat menacing-looking forest of Mirkwood, the realm of the Wood-elves. If the woods suggested one thing, it was definitely "Keep out!", and had it been up to him, the man would have been more than happy to oblige.  
  
'Exactly there lies the problem,' Reran thought darkly and turned back from the dark trees. 'It is not up to me.'  
  
Indeed it was not, and that was the only reason why Reran had dragged twenty-five of his best men out here to the very edge of what the Elves called Rhovanion. His lord's orders had been clear, and he had heard what had happened to the last men to disappoint his liege. The man shook his head again and wiped a long strand of blonde-grey hair out of his eyes. The last of his fellows who had failed one of their lord's missions were dead, every single one of them. Those who hadn't been killed when they had been discovered had suffered some inexplicable, mysterious accidents, proving once again what Reran already knew: His lord's arm was long, even long enough to reach you in the prison of the King of Dale.  
  
"Sir?" a voice sounded behind him, and Reran turned around and found himself hard-pressed not to scowl when he saw who was standing in front of him.  
  
"Teonvan," he nodded in a way that could only be described as icy. "The guards are set?"  
  
The other returned the nod, matted brown hair falling onto hollow cheeks. He would never understand how a man could look just as revolting as he actually was, Reran mused inwardly.  
"Yes, sir," the other replied in a rather oily tone of voice. "No fires have been started as not to alarm anyone to our presence, as you commanded."  
  
Reran's mouth curled into something one could have interpreted as a smile with a lot of goodwill while he inwardly cursed his luck, the commander who had been in charge of the last mission and his lord. His luck for getting him into this situation, Adruran, his ex-colleague, for failing their lord, dying and therefore landing him with this accursed mission, and his lord for insisting that Teonvan accompanied him and served as his second-in-command on this mission.  
  
He had never like Teonvan; it had been antipathy on first sight. In addition to the fact that he couldn't stand the man, Reran was also convinced that he was a bad commander and more a burden than an asset, and the more he came to know him, the firmer this conviction became. Teonvan was a truly loathsome man, and after more than two weeks in his company, Reran had no other wish than to be allowed to kill him. He usually took little pleasure in torturing others, even though he had done it more than once when he had needed information, but with this man he was prepared to make an exception.  
  
"Good," he ground out between gritted teeth, doing his best to remain civil. If he judged Teonvan correctly – and he was rather sure he did – he would report every single one of their conversations to their lord, and Reran was convinced he didn't want to know what exactly his liege would say if he heard that he had called the man he had chosen as his second-in-command a slimy, twisted moron. Not that Reran would say something as tame as that, but it was a good start. Somehow, and he really did not know how, Teonvan had convinced their lord that he was a cunning, tough and intelligent being and ideal for the task that lay ahead.  
  
The blonde man eyed his companion with barely controlled disdain. He was ready to admit that Teonvan was cunning, and he might even be tough if one defined tough as willing to hurt and degrade others for one's own pleasure, but he definitely was not more intelligent than the average mountain goblin, and Reran even suspected that he might insult some mountain goblins with that assumption.  
  
Teonvan studied his captain with his head cocked to the side, either ignoring or oblivious to his superior's thoughts.  
"We will enter Mirkwood tomorrow, sir?"  
  
Reran turned unwilling eyes on the other man from where he had been watching his men pitch the camp. Most tents were already standing, and the guards had already assumed their positions. Yes, he thought with a small inward smile, his men were good. They were even very good, nearly as good as Adruran's had been. Then again, Adruran had been the best captain they had ever had, and that informal title had passed onto Reran now that the slightly younger man was dead.  
  
"Sir?"   
  
That loathed voice sounded again, and the grey-blonde man forced himself to concentrate on the face in front of him, even though he really felt no wish to even acknowledge its existence.  
"No," he answered coldly, "Of course we will not, Teonvan. Because if we did, we would be dead before we had taken more than a few dozen steps."  
  
The dark haired man's face twisted into a contemptuous grimace.  
"They're elves, nothing more! You do not believe the fairy tales they tell about them, do you? They die just as easily as anybody else, I've heard."  
  
The look that Reran gave his second was just as contemptuous. That was yet another thing why Teonvan would only get his men killed if he ever got a command on his own: He had a rather overreaching idea of his own importance and abilities. Of course, he shared that trait with the majority of the men Reran knew, but the blonde man knew better than to underestimate an elf. Adruran had been a good teacher in that regard: Never underestimate your opponent. He had got himself killed as well of course, but still Reran believed that he had been right.  
  
"You are a fool, Teonvan," he told the other man with a hard look, "And if I weren't here, you would be a dead fool very soon, and you would take your men with you." He raised a hand before the younger man could protest, and added, "I will only say this once, so I advise you to listen closely. No, we will not enter the forest tomorrow. You will choose the four stealthiest men we have and send _them _into the woods, with the orders not to approach anyone they meet and become invisible if they indeed meet an elf. They will report back here the day after tomorrow, and if they have found a suitable target, we will strike. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Teonvan answered automatically. "But … but, sir, what will we do in the meantime?"   
  
Reran who had already turned back and begun to walk back to the camp turned, the corners of his lips curling upwards in mild amusement.  
"We wait, Teonvan," he told him finally. "Remember what happened to Adruran's men. They were impatient and too careless." He paused shortly and gave the other a flinty look. "I don't have to remind you of how the last of them died, do I?"  
  
Reran didn't mention that the other commander had been highly unwilling to take this mission as well, and that he and his men had only been careless because they had been given so little time by their lord, just as he and his men now. That was nothing his men really needed to know.  
  
The dark haired man had blanched at his captain's words and shook his head quickly.  
"No, sir."  
  
"Good."   
  
With a last look at Teonvan the captain turned and walked back into the camp, leaving his second-in-command behind. Now that he really thought about it, they were on even a tighter schedule than Adruran had been, and he knew that Teonvan had suggested moving on partly because of that as well, but Reran knew that they would be dead tomorrow evening if they rushed things.   
No, it was better to be a little late and have what your lord wanted than to be dead, or worse, to come back home with the news of your failure, which equated death as well, but a painful, slow and thoroughly uncomfortable death at that.  
  
Reran gave an inward sigh and briefly lifted his eyes to the heavens. For a moment, he truly wished Adruran to be alive so he could kill him himself for getting him into this situation, but alas, that would not happen. But then again, if Adruran were still alive, he wouldn't have this problem in the first place and…  
  
With a low growl that earned him a curious look from one of the younger men he shook his head. He wouldn't think about things like these; he was already having more than enough trouble thinking of a way to do his lord's bidding – which was more than a little dangerous in his opinion, and he wouldn't have tried anything like it had it been up to him.  
  
But, unfortunately, it was not up to him, and so his only option was to put up with Teonvan and get this mission over with as quickly as possible so he could return home to have some peace. And yet, Reran knew that there would be no peace for him. Things were being set into motion, things that were far beyond his control or understanding, and he knew that this mission was merely the first step.  
  
In the end, it would be like an avalanche that no-one would be able to stop, and he, Reran, least of all.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _adan - human, man_  
_mellon nín - my friend_  
  
  
  
  
***huggles her bad guys* They're adorable, aren't they? I really have missed writing evil people - it's so much fun! *notices weird look readers give her* Well, be that as it may, the next chapter should (don't laugh back there!) be here on Thursday or Friday, depends on how much time I need to spend demonstrating this week. *shrugs* We'll see. Thanks again for your patience! Oh yes, and reviews are still appreciated! Thanks a lot in advance! *winks*  
  
  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
Asha Dreamweaver** - *g* Yes, Anardir won't be a very happy elf at the end of this story, that much I'm sure of... Thanks a lot for the review! I'm glad you like this!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, I have never been banned from the computer by my mother, but my phone company seems to it all the time, so I understand what you mean. Life's not fair, that's all one can say. *shrugs*  
**Mouse5** - I'm rather sure that Thranduil and Elrond have already contemplated locking them up, but the way I see it it wouldn't solve anything. They would probably manage to get themselves killed even locked in their rooms or in the dungeons/cellars/wherever... *g* A little question though: What happens on the first Thursday of November between 03.00 and 03.30 hrs.? I seriously have no idea...  
**Always-a-kiwi** - *looks at her feet in shame* Well, I WAS going to update this soon. I swear to God that my phone company hates me. I don't know why, it just does. *g* Great you like my weird little stories though! Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**LOTRFaith** - Yeah, I'm not that good a doctor either. My whole family is though, so I CAN do these things if I have to (perhaps it's genetic, I don't know), but I always start shivering when I'm finished, like that one time I had to patch up my sister's hand so we could get her to the hospital. Young girls and broken glass do NOT mix, I can tell you - and cut hands bleed amazingly much... *shrugs* Whatever. And I agree with you. If I were Anardir, I would have long ago left for the Grey Havens. Probably right after I'd first met him. *g*  
**Red Tigress** - Another lurker! Gotcha! *g* No, j/k, thanks a lot for reviewing. Usually reviews help me to post faster, even though it didn't really work this time, huh? *grimaces* No, I guess not... And about how long concussions last ... depends on how hard you hit your head. Usually, if you're a human, I mean, I guess you would have to stay in bed/rest/whatever for a few days if you'd hit your head as hard as Legolas, but since he isn't a man (Duh, I know), I really don't know. I I just decided that he didn't need to stay as long. *shrugs* I'm just guessing here. Sorry for not updating for ages, and thanks a lot for de-lurking!  
**Gwyn** - Ah yes, Jocelyn. I know the story you're referring to, even though I don't think I have read even a third of it. But I know what you mean. Let's just say that I'm not good on the whole supernatural stuff, I just don't think it credible most of the time. That's the reason why I don't like to read fantasy either, too much magic. *grimaces* I know that sounds strange coming from a person who writes about elves and dwarves and evil Dark Lords, but that's me. I don't think I could write it and still like my story, so anything with too much possession/magic/whatever isn't for me. Sorry. But I like the CPR, and I've even done that! Yay Nili! *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Well, it doesn't seem as if we're going to have much snow either this year. *pouts* I wanted snow! I love snow! I always thought that if it's cold enough for you toes to freeze off you could at least get some snow as a compensation! *nods, writes a large sign and sticks it onto the side of the screen* Got it. Spaz = Freak out. Thanks a lot. You can never know too much slang, right? *gives her weird look* No, there is NO painful waking up period, and NO screaming either! *shakes head* You evil, sadistic people... But I might be able to do something about the last point! *g* Sorry for not updating so long, it wasn't MY fault!  
**Deana** - *shifts nervously* Well, what can I say? What about: Itwasn'tmyfaultreally or UhmIgottagobye? *g* No, really, I wanted to update. I really did, but my phone company hates me. So, welcome to my life. I hate it back though, so it doesn't really matter that much to me... *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Dha-Gal** - *wide-eyed* You've never been huggled before? Really? Well, you obviously don't know Halo or Lina then - they can't spend five minutes without huggling someone, really! *g* *grabs bags of Skittles* Mine! My own! My precioussss! We lovesss Ssssskittlessss!! Great you like the 'depth put into my story', I don't really have to do anything about that. These things have a mind on their own, I never try to put these little things in... *g* And I don't like the fics either where Gandalf or even better yet, a Mary-Sue, appear and do the most amazing magic - it's laughable, that's what it is. *huggles again* Thanks for the long review! I love it!  
**TrustingFriendship** - Great you like the fact that Legolas argues with his brain all the time since the elf in question most certainly does not! He's rather cross with me about that one, really... Prissy elf. *shrugs* Our heroes need - and get - indeed some time to recuperate, but I have to announce that the twins won't appear in the near future, sorry. Definitely not before chapter 10 the way it looks right now...  
**Firniswin** - *g* Well, it was the obvious thing to say, right? I mean, how would YOU react if someone asked you how you felt when you were impaled on a stupid branch? I know I wouldn't have stated it so politely... Well, to be honest I don't know why so many people read my stories. This time there are more reviews than usual though since there are lots of reviews complaining about me not updating and all that, so you could say I cheated. *g* Sort of, anyway.  
**Calenore** - It's very nice to hear that you like the bit with Sauron's garden, even though I have some to the conclusion that it's probably not canon since Sauron most likely didn't have a garden.*shrugs* Doesn't really matter though. *g* I agree with you, Celylith is a very poor elf, as is Hithrawyn and about every other resident of Mirkwood. And about Legolas' "stupid traitor friend": I don't know, to be honest. I haven't forgotten Glónduil, be assured, and I will probably put him into another story somtime. Perhaps the one after the next (if I ever get that far)? We'll see. Thanks for the review, btw!  
**Firnsarnien** - Uhm, yes. I call that alright. You have to admit that in comparison to the shape they're in all the time this IS alright - relatively speaking, of course. *evil grin* You're right though, they have some owies, but they're not too bad off - yet! *cackles evilly* Uhm, ignore that, will you? I did NOT just cackle evilly, and NOTHING will happen to them in the future. I promise. *alter ego crosses fingers behind back* Sorry for not hurrying with this chapter, there was nothing I could do! Honestly!  
**Halo** - Well, yes of course I missed you! There are few people here who are as insane as I am, so how could I not have missed you? *shakes head* Honestly woman... *g* Oh, and yes: It was your fault. ALL your fault, I might add. *evil grin* LOL, 'father-son-kawaiiness'? You could say that, even though I think it's an interesting description... And I guess you're right, if it were humanly, uhm, elvenly possible Thranduil and Elrond would have gone grey a long time ago. Or gone insane, no, wait, elves CAN go insane. Hmm, I guess they're too stubborn? I will ignore your weird comments since I still haven't seen the Ext. Version. I don't want to either anyway. *pouts* Who would WANT to see something as stupid as that? Not me, definitely not. *g*  
**Cicci** - LOL, no, I wouldn't feel good either with a branch going through me! *g* But I agree with you, that injury IS funny, and no, Aragorn won't think so. He's a spoilsport, that's what he is. *g* Thanks for your very nice rewiew, it's always great to get such positive feedback! *huggles* Thanks!   
**Maerz** - *g* Da stimme ich glatt zu. Ich nehme an, die Heiler haben schon fuer jeden ein Bett, das immer bereitzustehen hat - nur fuer den Notfall! Wuerde mich nicht im geringsten ueberraschen! Hmm, Hosentaschen? Ich glaube nicht. Kamen die nicht erst mit den Jeans und Arbeiterhosen auf? *zuckt Schultern* Weiss ich echt nicht. Vielen lieben Dank fuer deine review, auch wenn diesmal nichts aus dem zeitigen Updaten geworden ist. Ich hoffe, du verzeihst mir? Einmal noch? *g*  
**Alilacia** - Yeah, Legolas seems to be doing that all the time. Talking to himself/the voices/whatever - that just can't be healthy... *g* LOL, yes, to be honest I would like to see Celylith and Legolas walk up to the front door of Barad-dûr to ask Sauron for the permission to dig up the plant too - it's a rather interesting picture, right? *g* I don't think that the other will kill you for your nice idea, most of them liked it, sadistic people that they are. So, if you have any more suggestions - I'd be very happy to listen to them.. *evil grin* Later, maybe. *g* Sorry, for keeping you waiting for so long, this time it wasn't my fault or FF.net's. Sorry. *hangs head*  
**Tarawyn** - Hmm, a hard question. I think I love them to 90% and hate them the other 10 - sometimes they're too stupid and male, really. And I resent that implication! I CAN write scene where they don't get hurt - I'm sure there are some in chapter 1 or 2. Somewhere. Short ones. You just have to look for them REALLY hard... *g* I honour your opinions, of course, but the whole sledging-incident DID have another motivation, other than hurting/torturing/maiming our favourite duo: I needed to get Celylith and Aragorn away from Legolas for a while, and all I could think of to keep especially that reckless human back was injury and/or sickness. So, there WAS a reason, and I have planned all of it rather meticuously. And don't worry, there won't be any torture etc. for the next three and a half chapters, so they WILL get a break, a rather long one even. So: The injury was necessary and they do get a break. I hope that's satisfactory? *g* Thanks a lot for really telling me what you think though. It helps a lot more than the average "I like it go on update soon"-review. Thanks!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Oh yeah, sorry, the MENTALLY UNSTABLE Canadian girl. Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, of course... *g* And I don't know why your weird contrymen don't want a Nili Day either, it sure sounds like a good idea to me! *shakes head* Weird, really... And I think that Aragorn DOES recover swiftly when he has the chance to. I mean you can't really count the times when he's captured/about to be killed/etc. right? When he actually is in the healing wing and is forced to stay in bed, he heals quickly, Númenórean blood and all that. *g* I like Elrond the tap dancer though! Nice idea! *shakes her hand* Congratulations!  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Don't worry, it's easy to miss a post. There are tons of stories out here, after all... Hmm, what does a sledge look like? Like a really big sled, I guess, the ones that are pulled by horses. Something like that. *waves hand vaguely* I know, you NEVER ask what could possibly happen or something like that. It only invites trouble, that's my experience as well. And lots of trouble in most cases... *g* Thanks for all your reviews, btw! I really love them!  
**Sirithiliel** - Hmm, the Legolas-gets-captured-part is in chapter 7/8, and I'm sorry to say that I don't think it very amusing, really. Well, there might be some humour, but really not that much. You'll see... Sorry for not really updating soon, but, you know, the phone company. Evil people, that's what they are. Evil.  
**Maranwe1** - I know what you mean, I always review later too, if I review at all, that is. I'm a terrible reviewer, but I really forget about it! I always want to, and then I get bitten by a plot bunny or something and just HAVE to write that scene and then that's it. *shakes head in digust* I'm pathetic, I know. Uhm, no. What I meant to say is that Aragorn collided with the fallen tree, got smashed against it and impaled himself on a branch in the process. Sorry if that didn't become clear, but it was only one tree. Big, fallen, dead tree. Well, I understand that you don't want Legolas to get captured, and I can tell you a little something that should make you feel better: He won't stay alone for long. Okay? That's better, right? *evil grin* Not really, I guess... And don't worry about Aragorn getting a chance to be the healer and force Legolas to drink various draughts etc.: All in due time. Just wait a little... I am very sorry that I didn't update on Thanksgiving - not my fault! Really! *g*  
**Lina **- OMG! It's a Lina! And it's a James Bond Lina! I can't believe it! *huggles her* I _really_ missed you! And Éomer and the Rohirrim, of course! *huggles Éomer and the Rohirrim* Now I'm happy - very happy! *very happy grin* And don't worry, Estel will be fine. It was only a little branch after all - nothing serious.*evil grin* I really thought you gave Celylith quite good advice - didn't really work though, I don't really know why either... *g* *huggles her again* I'm still very happy you're back. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Bailey** - Uhm, yes. He was impaled by a branch. LOL, I like your theory that the tree was jealous and impaled Aragorn so it could have Legolas for its own - nice idea! The tree was dead though - but there ARE a lot of others in Mirkwood, you're right there - Aragorn should be very, very careful... *g* And giving Hithrawyn your white jacket might NOT be such a good idea - you will need it in future chapters if you're already making such a fuss about a little branch... *evil grin* And thanks for recommending AEFAE to your friend! Tell Coon that I very much appreciated the review!  
**Cara** - Hmm, lots of Rashwe? Let's say it will make a few appearances in the next few chapters, but I really cannot make any guarantees beside that. I'm still thinking about what to do with that horse - but I'll try to put it in after that as well. Promise. I don't know if that sentence made any sense at all, but what the heck... *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Aratfeniel** - You mean Adruran, right, from the last story? Well, I don't know yet whether he will be in this story, but I don't think so. But I WILL use him in another story, I guess, but this story might not be so good for him to make an appearance. He is, after all, a reasonable man and all that... *g* I'll get myself the Ext. Version for Christmas. No-one wants to give it to me (my family thinks I'm insane enough as it is *g*), poor Nili. Sorry for keeping you waiting. Really.  
**Amelie** - Poor you! Asthma is definitely no fun! I am lucky enough not to have anything like that, no allergies or such, and I am not afraid of hospitals. I'm terrified of them, I really are. It's sad, I know, but I know in detail what they do to you, which is not at all reassuring. *shakes head* Not at all. Oh yeah, I had an encounter with barbed wire as well when I was younger - the stuff is bloody hard to see when you're running! It was nothing serious though, just a few scratches - Estel is definitely worse off! *evil grin* I'm not telling you any details, sorry, but the twins won't arrive for a few chapters, sorry again. Probably chapter10-nish. Okay? *g*  
**Shauna** - *hangs head* I know. I'm unable to write a perfectly serious scene - I couldn't even do it if my life depended on it, really! It's rather sad... Well, if it makes you happy it's okay I guess. Sorry to hear that you fell out of your chair - you really have to learn to grip the edge of the table when falling. It really works! *g* Thanks a lot for all the compliments and the nice review in general! *huggles* Thanks!  
**Nikara** - LOL, 'he isn't impaled all that often'? I'll take that as a compliment! It's indeed very hard to think of ANYTHING that hasn't been done to the both of them already - poor boys... *huggles elf and ranger* Well, I'm sorry, but I guess there was no chapter waiting for you when you came back from your vacation, huh? Sorry again. *hangs head*  
**Leggylover03** - I impaled him and that was SWEET? *incredulous* I really, really think that you need a therapy, mate ... there's something seriously wrong with that statement... *g* But I'll admit that you didn't ask for Estel pain for a long time! Yay you! *confetti falls* Well done!   
**Silvertoekee** - Yeah, I guess they really have the worst posible luck. Poor them. *g* And I'm sorry to say that the twins won't arrive for a while yet, I think not before chapter 10 or something like that. Sorry. But there will be lots of angst before they arrive, don't worry. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Firegirl353** - Thanks so much! It's always great to hear that someone enojoys my weird little stories! *huggles* I like the screenname you have now (are there really 353 firegirls around here, or did you chose the number yourself?), and it's nice that you like Wilwarin's name. She's adorable, isn't she? *g*  
**Louise_Oblique** - Don't worry, your reviews don't get repetetive, and even if they did I would hardly mind. *winks* It's always nice to hear compliments, right? *Nili's head swells and bursts because of all the praise* Well, maybe it's not all THAT great... *g* I hope the homework wasn't too bad, and thanks for the review!  
**Seveawen** - I know what you mean. I'm always right too - all the other people just don't want to admit it. Stupid, that's what they are... *g* And I don't think that Celylith was rude - he was just a little bit stressed, only too understandable if you ask me... *g* I agree with you, btw. It's all Legolas' fault, it was HIS stupid idea, after all. Anardir is not to blame! He's a very, very pitiable elf... *pats him on head*  
**Mary** - Yup, you're right. He WAS helped up by his left hand, but only because his right one was hurt worse at the moment. You're right, the left one isn't completely well yet, but the bones have mended well enough, while the right one was bloody and bruised and cut and Valar know what else. It was only a natural reaction for Anardir to help him up by the hand that wasn't a bloody mess at the moment, right? That was my reasoning, anyway... Thanks for reviewing! I hope this has become a litle bit clearer - but then again, when do I actually make sense.. *shakes head*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - I don't know either. It's a gift, I guess... *evil grin* And I agree, Celylith must have done something TERRIBLE to deserve such a fate - hmm, what could that have been... Nothing evil enough comes to mind. *shrugs* Just bad luck then, I guess. *g*  
**Jenny** - LOL, I like the padded room! You're right, that might stop him from getting into these messes all the time, but I'd bet you that he'd go insane in there. And what is worse: A half-dead King of Gondor or an insane King of Gondor? Right, that's what I thought, too: An insane king! *g* At least in his case...  
**Starlight** - Nope, keine Angst, ist nicht zweimal angekommen. Alles in Buter. *g* Und du musst dich deinem Bruder gegenueber gar nicht rechtfertigen. Nach 'ner Weile ignorieren die anderen so ein Verhalten einfach, glaub mir. Mittlerweile sitze ich vor meinem PC und verfluche/rede mit ihm lautstark auf Englisch, und keiner denkt sich was dabei... *g* Danke fuer deine liebe review, aber die twins kommen leider noch nicht gleich. Dafuer aber die baddies, das ist doch was, oder?   
**Mystic Girl1** - Nee du, diesmal bin ich es, die richtig spaet ist. Alles die Schuld der dummen Telekom, ich schwoere es! *schuettelt Faust* Verdammt seist du, Telekom! Dummerweise beeindruckt die das gar nicht... *seufz* Uh, du bekommst also 'ne Gehaltskuerzung, wenn du mal nicht puenktlich updatest? Das ist ja richtig... Na ja. *g* Schoen, dass du Celythramir magst! Ich mag ihn auch, er ist so knuddelig! *knuddelt sich wehrenden Elben* LOL, Estel wuerde das wahrscheinlich wirklich schaffen! Das ist doch ein trauriges Leben, oder? Ach, DU warst die irre Bogenschuetzin vor 'n paar Wochen? Haett' ich mir ja denken koennen, eigentlich... *g* Danke fuer deine tollen reviews! Sind immer was tolles zu lesen, wirklich!  
**Iverson** - I don't think you had reviewed that before. But then again, you never know with FF.net, do you? I swear it's the only webpage that hates its users.. *g* Hmm, the bruises... Well, mine always are more of a reddish colour right after I sustain them, and they need some time to turn into the blue-black we all know and love. And before you tell me: I know that black is, technically speaking, not a colour. I really did know that. *g* And I know what you mean, Legolas is NEVER sarcastic. I swear that elf doesn't even know the meaning of that word... *g* I'm glad you liked that paragraph about Sauron's garden. I was grinning very broadly myself when I wrote it, so it's great to hear that other like my insane humour as well. And they don't ALWAYS get into trouble in my stories - hey! No laughing! Hey! *g* Thanks a lot for your great review! It was very helpful - not to mention flattering... *g*  
**Critternut** - Yup, I guess the branch thing would hurt. I don't really know of course, since I haven't been stupid enough to get into such a situation, but I imagine you're right. Poor Estel. *pats his head* Hmm, all the kidnapping bit is really in chapter 7 and mainly 8, so there're still some chapters left, sorry. Oookayyy, so you want me to break Legolas' leg? I'll think about it, but it's always very impractical if your characters can't walk - it makes the whole escape thing rather hard. Well, thanks, we don't really celebrate Thanksgiving here, but thanks nonetheless. I'm sorry I couldn't update when I said I would. Really, I am.   
**Salara** - *g* Wem sagst du das? Immer, wenn ich eine review nochmal lese, die ich an euch geschrieben habe, ueberlege ich, auf welchem Trip ich denn DA war. Meistens auf gar keinem, was das ganze eigentlich noch schlimmer macht.... *g* Ich kann's mir lebhaft vorstellen: Wenn Elrond im Schlitten saesse, gaebe es fuer dich doch kein Halten mehr! Und ich weiss auch nicht, wie die beiden es schaffen, von Katastrophe in Katastrophe zu schlittern - muss 'ne natuerlich Begabung oder so sein.. *g* Ah, du bist also ein Wohnungsputzer? Ich bin ein Weglaufer, ich muss bei Frust immer durch die Gegend rennen, bis ich mich wieder beruhigt habe... Und ich muss zugeben, dass deine Theorien nicht ganz so weit hergeholt sind - armer Legolas... *Krokodilstraenen* Danke fuer die lange review! *knuddelt* Danke!  
**Karone Evertree** - Thank you! And I'm glad you liked the invisible maniac - I know him very well myself! A rather stealthy, evil fellow, that one... *g* Thank you very much for your review, they really encourage me a lot! They really do!  
**Sabercrazy** - I'm not THAT bad, am I? I mean, I don't torture them THAT much, and... *trails off as readers start laughing* Well, fine, you're right... *sulking* LOL, it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside? Now THAT'S scary! *g* And yes, you're the resident torture junkie, I know you from my last Torture Writers Anonymous meeting - don't try to deny it! *g* Once again sorry for keeping you waiting, I didn't do it on purpose, really. Thanks a lot for your patience!  
**Suzi9** - Well, it certainly isn't healthy for Estel, I'll give you that. But I really hope it's not bad for the author, because I'm in serious trouble otherwise... *g* Life in Mirkwood is most definitely NOT boring when Estel and Legolas are around, and don't feed my alter ego! It makes her stronger and stronger and... *trails off in fear* You don't want to know what happens then. Trust me on this. *g*  
**Zam** - Yup, computers are dumb. Just look at mine, no internet for two weeks! Well, stricty speaking it wasn't its fault but the phone company's ... ah, doesn't matter. They're working together to drive me insane anyway. *g* Well, Legolas doesn't listen to his brain anyway, does he? If he did he would have taken the ships a long, long time ago... *watches Celylith's Elrond-personification, wide-eyed* Uhm, okay. Very interesting. Zam, WHAT have you been giving him? The small blueish pills with 'Extasy' written on top? I told you they do weird things with elves! LOL, of course Celythramir would like you! He's your father-in-law after all! *beams* I'm so happy you two get along! *huggles both of them* Okay, so now go and perform the ritual of changing the channels. Off you go, shoo. *g*   
**Halfling** - Good question, and the answer is that he blames Aragorn, or rather the fact that something ALWAYS happens when they're together. He hasn's really seen yet that Legolas is perfectly able of getting into trouble on his own - but he'll learn, trust me... *evil cackle* And don't worry, I won't torture them? Me? Nah...  
**Strider's Girl** - Congrats! Exams are horrible! And yes, I agree with you: They are indeed trying to get themselves killed. Not my fault at all, nooo... *g* To answer your question: Yes, I made up the sledging. I mean, there were sledges in ME, I can honestly not think of a reason why not, considering that they knew them back in Roman Times and long before that, but I just assumed that Legolas would go sledging, you're right. And yes, it was a rather immature thing to do, but then again, Aragorn is only 22, so he has the right to rub off on him, right? Well, that's my stupid reasoning, don't pay it any heed. And you can tell your friend that the branch wasn't disgusting. It was ... different. *beams* Yes, _different_, that's what it was. *g* *huggles* Thanks a lot for the huge review! I enjoyed it a lot!  
**Aromene** - Well, I guess it's a genetic thing, there's no other explanation, really. Either that or the two of them have been cursed by the Valar... *g* You'll find out a little bit later how the bets turned out, and you're right, stupidity _should_ have been an option. But then again, everyone would have betted on it in that case... Thanks a lot for reviewing! Reviews are just ... wonderful. Perfect. Great. Words fail me. *g*  
**Marbienl** - LOL, you might be right there. A few more years in Aragorn's company and Legolas might indeed turn out just like Gollum. Who needs a magic ring when you have a stubborn ranger to help you become insane? *g* Yup, I knew you'd like the branch thing. I'm not at all surprised, really... I don't really think that Hithrawyn will last much longer, he's already half-mad anyway. More than that, make that three-quarters... *g* And it's not Anardir's fault! It's Legolas' fault! It was HIS stupid idea after all! *sighs tiredly* Okay, so when in July is your birthday? I could do a background story about Legolas' and Aragorn's encounter with the trolls, I think I mentioned it once or twice in the previous stories... Just tell me the exact date and I'll think about it, okay? Tell Frór "Hi!" from me as well!   
**Crystal-Rose15** - Wow, so you went back all the way to AEFAE? I'm very much impressed! You are VERY dedicated reader! Congratulations! *shakes her hand* Well, thank you very much or all your very nice compliments! I always try very hard not to modernise the characters, and I NEVER use okay or words like that. I just think even if Tolkien wouldn't approve of my writing it doesn't have to be even worse, right? Well, thanks a lot for the review, and sorry about the delay!  
**Joee1** - I KNOW! As I said, I'm very sorry. It was my phone company's fault, really. I thank you again for de-lurking, and I hope I haven't discouraged you entirely. Thanks for the reviews, and sorry again!  
**Tinlaure** - *blushes* Thank you! It's very nice to hear that you like the stories, weird as they may be. All the compliments give me delusions of grandeur, but thanks nonetheless! This chapter's not a cliffy, don't worry, and neither are the next two. So, no worries. *g* Thanks for the review!  
  
**Once again, sorry for the delay. I thank all of you for your patience and understanding - and your reviews, of course! Thanks! *huggles readers***  
  
  
  
  



	6. Choices Made

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
*sighs* Okay, I will say it here once and for all: The twins won't be here for the next few chapters. *ducks sharp objects, blunt objects, heavy objects and several other kinds of objects* I am sorry, okay? Believe me, it's hard enough to keep the story going as it is, and the last thing I need is a pair of reckless, stupid elven twins. *shakes head* As soon as I bring them into this they'll try to take over the plot, I know them well enough by now. So: No twins until chapter 10 at least. Sorry again, but otherwise we'll never get anything done. Trust me.  
  
It's very nice to hear that you like my baddies though, personally I love them. I always feel pity for them, somehow, as we all know how most of them are going to end, don't we? Poor little men. This chapter yet another of them is introduced, and before you ask: Yes, the fact that all the names end with "-an" is deliberate. I thought that after Geran and Adruran I could continue with the "-an", sort of like a local tradition. And, again before you ask, I won't tell you where they come from; you'll have to wait a bit to find it out. Sorry. *g*  
  
Oh, and I just _knew_ how the majority of you people would react to the Legolas-ending-up-in-Isáviel's-room-thing. *g* A good thing that he didn't appear in one of yours, otherwise we might have never seen him again and I would be missing one of my chief characters. *thinks for a moment* Ah well, I still have Aragorn, so no worries... *g*  
  
  
Very well, be that as it may, here is ... wow, chapter 6 already, huh? Anyway, this time Legolas gets the chance to drive the poor Celylith up the walls, we see more of Reran and his friends, and, finally, Aragorn gets a tiny bit upset. Other than that, one could mention the term of 'approaching doom', I think. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please!**  
  
  
  


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Chapter 6  
  
  
Legolas looked at his friend closely, mentally running through a list of things the other needed to take with him. Giving a small nod every time he ticked off something on his mental list, he stopped dead in his tracks after a few moments, his hand that was not wrapped in a dozen bandages shooting out and gripping the other elf's arm.  
  
"Splints! I am sure you don't have splints!"  
  
Celylith resisted the urge to either bang his head against a tree or to take Legolas' head, bang it against a tree and then hit him himself for a little while for good measure. He gave the very inviting doors of the stables a longing look. So near – and yet so far…  
  
"Why would I need splints, _mellon nín_?" he asked in the tired voice of a person who has given up on escaping his current situation a long time ago.  
  
The elven prince gave his friend an unbelieving look.  
"Why would you need splints? Well, to splint something, of course! A broken leg … a broken arm … a broken neck…"  
  
"Oh yes, that would be helpful," Celylith snorted and shook his head. When Legolas didn't smile or show any other sign of amusement, he gave him a long-suffering look and added, "I am riding to Beorn, our ally, Legolas, whose house is, as you well know, at the western edge of the forest. Splints are made from wood. Wood you get from trees. A forest is full of trees."  
  
That was a reasoning not even Legolas could challenge, but the blonde elf wasn't prepared to give up that easily.  
"But you would save time if you wouldn't have to cut them," he pointed out. "Besides, you could break both your arms, and then you couldn't cut them at all."  
  
Celylith gave him a look that was beyond annoyed.  
"Are you trying to drive me insane with these idiotic comments or is it merely a coincidence?"  
  
"I am merely trying to help!" Legolas protested and quickly followed the other elf who had simply walked on with a last, slightly disgusted look into Legolas' direction.   
  
Celylith ground his teeth to refrain from answering, repeating over and over in his mind that Legolas was his prince and that he was _not _allowed to kill him, not even a little, as another part of his mind insistently demanded. In fact he did believe Legolas that he was trying to help. All this had started yesterday evening after they had left Estel's room via the now familiar route (the balcony), when he had mentioned – only on a casual note, one might add – that he needed to get his supplies ready for his little journey.  
  
Legolas had been eager to help him, of course, partly because of the fact that he was going out of his mind with boredom. After two days of being prohibited to shoot, exercise, ride or essentially do anything, the elven prince was beginning to envy Aragorn who was sleeping most of the day. However, Hithrawyn had stayed firm this time, even though the lines of stress that had burrowed themselves into the skin next to his mouth and into his forehead were growing deeper so quickly that one could almost watch: Legolas wouldn't be allowed to take off his bandages until later today, and Aragorn wouldn't be allowed out of bed until tomorrow either.  
  
Be that as it may, Legolas had been more than willing to assist, and it seemed that he had taken both their fathers' warning to heart in his own, special (and, as Celylith would have added, twisted) way: He was trying to think of even the most unlikely and obscurest things that might happen to his silver haired friend and insisted that he took all possible cures and healing utensils with him.  
  
Right now Celylith was burdened with a very small bag that contained some spare clothes and the rest of his gear, a normal-sized bag that contained lembas, water and other provisions, and two very large bags that contained bandages, healing herbs, about every single root that could be crushed to powder, more bandages, several sets of healing utensils the silver haired warrior didn't even know the names of, some more herbs, and another pile of bandages to top everything off.  
  
Celylith reached the stable doors and stopped, turning slowly to look at his prince whose eyes were filled with a curious mixture of real concern and wicked mischief.  
"I will not take splints with me," he said slowly and very, very clearly. "In my experience one only gets attacked when travelling with one of you, and I am not planning to do something as foolish as that."  
  
Legolas ignored the last sentence and looked back innocently, the wicked sparkle in his silver-blue eyes growing brighter.  
"What about some more bandages?"  
  
For a moment, Celylith literally saw red. With a strength of will he didn't know he possessed, he did not do what his instincts told him, namely wrapping his hands around the other's throat, but rather turned and entered the stables, looking for his horse. Legolas managed to maintain the innocent façade for a few more moments before he began to laugh and followed his friend into the stables.   
  
He gave Celylith who had just reached his horse's box a careful look as he watched the silver haired elf load the bags onto the animal.  
"No more bandages?" he asked, his voice ringing with barely suppressed laughter.  
  
His childhood friend took a deep breath before he turned to the prince, a slowly spreading smile on his lips.  
"No, Legolas. No more bandages, no more herbs, no more healing utensils. I am travelling through our home, not going into battle! Valar, I haven't been mothered this much since turning two hundred!"  
  
Legolas arched an eyebrow.  
"What happened when you turned two hundred?"  
  
Celylith leaned back against the carved wooden balustrade that separated each horse's box from the rest of the stables. The balustrades were more like ornaments or decoration anyway, since no elf would have truly locked up a horse or tried to force it to stay somewhere it didn't really want to be. The firstborn loved their mounts, and every horse stayed out of its own free will.  
  
"Surely you do remember? It was the first time we saw a troll and…"  
  
Legolas winced unconsciously.  
"The troll! Now I do remember … you and Glónduil needed to spend more than a week in the healing wing if I remember correctly…"  
  
"And it took _you _almost a week to even wake up!" Celylith countered quickly, hiding a wince on his own at the same time.   
  
They didn't speak often of Glónduil, who was – or had been, it was all far too complex for him to really decide – one of their best friends. For more than two thousand years they had been friends, Celylith thought bitterly, and he often missed the dark haired elf that had been like a slightly younger and more impulsive brother to him, and he had always thought he knew his heart.   
  
Nearly three years ago that had started to change though, slowly, bit by bit and almost imperceptible. Ever since Legolas had met Aragorn and had started to spend more and more time with the human, Glónduil had started to become openly hostile towards the young ranger and had started to shun Celylith and especially Legolas, feeling betrayed that their prince preferred a human's company to theirs.  
  
Celylith had always thought that Glónduil was merely jealous and would eventually see that he had neither the wisdom nor the right to tell their prince what to do and whose company to seek, but it had turned out to be much worse than such feelings. Unbeknownst to them, Glónduil had long ago started to supply a group of elves near Mirkwood with information, elves that had the same opinions about humans as he did and who had ultimately pulled all of them and Aragorn and his family into a dark abyss of revenge and hatred none of them had escaped unscathed. Aragorn had been the one to suffer the most, and Celylith knew that the man still awoke screaming from dreams that haunted his sleep, dreams of these elves and the men they had hired and of what they had done to him before Legolas had been able to find him.  
  
Not even half a year ago he and Legolas had watched Glónduil leave the palace, possibly forever, and while the one part of him that had still been fuming with fury at his former friend's betrayal had been satisfied, another part of him had been devastated beyond words. He had felt betrayed, guilty and incredulous at the same time; how could he have judged his friend so wrong? How could he not have seen how deep the other's wounds were, and how they had festered until he had really believed what those elves told him, until he had believed that they didn't intend to kill Estel or Lord Elrond…  
  
Celylith shook his head quickly. He had believed Glónduil from the start when he had claimed that he had never intended to hurt anyone, but that couldn't undo what had happened, and it couldn't make him forgive him either. He had consciously betrayed his trust, and what was even worse in his opinion, he had betrayed Legolas' as well. Legolas was not merely their friend, he was their prince, and to betray their prince was high treason, no matter how much you hadn't meant anyone to get hurt.  
  
A hand touched his arm, and he looked up, startled, right into the eyes of Legolas which had lost all of their previous mischief.  
"I know, my friend," the fair haired prince said softly. "I know. I miss him as well, the way he was when we were still friends."  
  
Celylith grimaced and shook his head again, a hard expression on his face.  
"It was his choice. He betrayed us; there is nothing more to say."  
  
Legolas bowed his head, half to hide a smile and half in sorrow. While he and Aragorn had started to forgive Glónduil for his irresponsible actions, it seemed to be harder for Celylith. His silver haired friend took it personal, and he was rather sure that Celylith would never forgive the other elf for having betrayed his, Legolas', trust.  
"There is a lot more to say," he protested in a low voice. "When you return, perhaps you and I can sit down and … remember old times?"  
  
"Perhaps, my lord," Celylith answered curtly and turned back to his horse. "Perhaps … later."  
  
"Very well," Legolas smiled, "Later it is then. I will hold you to your word, my friend."  
  
The silver haired elf only nodded, but a second later he turned back to his friend with a scandalised expression on his fair face.  
"Look at that!"  
  
It took Legolas a second to see what his friend meant, but when he did a large, amused smile spread on his face. Celylith's horse had moved to the side of its box where it stood head to head with Rashwe, Legolas' horse that had been called "demon-horse" more than once. The animal didn't seem to be frightened, on the contrary: It rubbed its gleaming head against Rashwe's white neck in an obvious display of affection.  
  
"What is wrong, Celylith?" Legolas asked with an utterly innocent expression. "They like each other, so?"  
  
"Nobody likes Rashwe!" the other elf protested and sharply commanded his horse to follow him out of the box which it finally did, giving its master a dark, reproachful look. Celylith's voice became even more outraged, and he glared at the snickering elven prince. "I don't believe it! Keep your demon away from my horse, he is corrupting it!"  
  
"Why, my friend," Legolas asked in surprise and reached out to pat Rashwe's neck. The horse neighed softly in contentment and promptly looked like the most normal, friendliest elven steed one could imagine. "You are beginning to sound like Aragorn! There is nothing wrong with my horse!"  
  
"There is nothing _wrong_ with your horse?" Celylith repeated and stared at the both of them with wide eyes. "All the horses are afraid of it, not to mention the stable hands and most of the riders. And it tried to kill Elrohir."  
  
"Oh, come on," Legolas shook his head and gave Rashwe a last pat before turning around to follow Celylith out of the building, therefore missing the smug look the animal gave him. "You are exaggerating. He didn't try to kill him. He tried to…"  
  
"…eat him, you are right. Forgive my slip of the tongue," Celylith interrupted him darkly. "I agree with Aragorn for once: That horse would gladly kill every single one of us with the possible exception of you."  
  
The elven prince was intelligent enough not to protest and merely followed his friend out into the bright sunlight. Honestly, he thought to himself, he simply couldn't understand why everybody insisted that his horse was evil. It had saved Aragorn's life during their rather eventful trip to Lake-town, and all the man had said was that Rashwe had done it to be able to keep tormenting him. Rashwe was quite a nice horse, actually, one only needed to get to know him and…  
  
"…promise me, Legolas. Legolas?"  
  
The fair haired elf looked up to meet Celylith's eyes that held to equal parts a worried, amused and annoyed expression. He shook his head quickly, noticing to his satisfaction that the now rather familiar headache didn't make a reappearance, and gave the other elf an apologetic look.  
"I am sorry, my friend, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"  
  
Celylith rolled his eyes in mild annoyance as he secured the last bag a little bit more firmly on his horse's back and once again ascertained that he had everything he needed, including the sealed leather messenger tube. On his first assignment he had actually forgotten the letter he had been supposed to deliver, and the laughter and teasing of the other warriors of his guard had followed him for several centuries.  
  
"I asked you to take care of yourself and of Estel as long as I'm gone. Don't do anything stupid or reckless until I'm back to look after you two again, alright?"  
  
Now Legolas rolled his eyes; once again more than a little annoyed by his friend's over-protectiveness. Celylith took his duty to protect him very seriously, and sometimes he let him know that rather clearly.  
"I never do anything stupid or reckless, Lord Celylith," he informed the silver haired elf in mock haughtiness. With a rather dark look at his arms, he added softly, "And what could I do anyway, crippled as I am at the moment?"  
  
His elven friend shook his head in dismay, his forehead creasing into a small frown. He had suspected how Legolas felt about his mending arm that was still not back to its full strength, and to have his other arm injured now…  
"You are not crippled, _mellon nín_," he told the blonde elf in front of him. When Legolas adamantly refused to meet his eyes, he gave his horse a pointed look that told it to stay where it was and took a step closer to his childhood friend, gently touching his shoulder. "Nor are you helpless. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in what Aragorn told you four days ago."  
  
Legolas' head shot up sharply and he looked at the other with wide eyes.  
"How do you know what Aragorn told me?"  
  
"I don't," Celylith admitted simply. "But I can imagine. He is rather wise for one of his kind, and he is Lord Elrond's son in all the ways that matter. I am sure he has said everything there is to say, and has done it much more skilfully and eloquently than I ever could."  
  
A small smile began to spread on the other's face and he bowed his head.  
"Do not underestimate yourself, my friend. If you and Aragorn both think the same, then who am I to disagree?"  
  
"Precisely," Celylith grinned, trying to lighten the dark mood. "I am always right, you know that."  
  
Legolas shook his head again, eyes twinkling merrily once more.  
"That is something we will never agree on, I fear."  
  
"I think you are correct, my prince – for once," the other admitted as he mounted his horse. Celylith looked down at his friend, suddenly very reluctant to go and leave him and that reckless human behind.  
  
Legolas seemed to sense his feelings and gave him a smile.  
"Go, Celylith, or you will never make the journey in five days, and you know how _ada _gets when his messages arrive late. Don't let Beorn's dogs bite you – or himself, you know how he can be in his bear form, and don't forget to bring some of his honey-cakes if he still has some left."  
  
"So that is the true reason!" Celylith exclaimed in mock reproach. "It is not about reports or despatches; it's about honey-cakes!"  
  
The blonde prince flashed him a grin.  
"I knew you would figure it out after a millennium or two."  
  
Celylith returned the grin, but after a moment his face turned serious again. In a sudden moment of intuition he couldn't explain to himself, he reached down and gripped his friend's left shoulder, dark blue eyes boring into silver-blue ones.  
  
"Please," he begged softly, "Be careful. I have a feeling that…" He interrupted himself in mid-sentence, not really knowing what a feeling he was having, and so he shook his head before returning his eyes to his friend's mildly confused face. "Just be careful, Legolas. Promise me."  
  
"I promise," Legolas said without hesitation, a rather perplexed frown on his face. "You needn't worry so much. The farthest I will go is to check on a few patrols in the next few days, and I'm not sure about it yet. I will do nothing that will take me farther than a day from the palace."  
  
"Somehow," the silver haired elf retorted darkly, "That fails to reassure me at all."  
  
"I cannot imagine why," Legolas shrugged and briefly reached up to squeeze his friend's hand.   
  
Just after they had come back from Dale, he had felt just the same as Celylith was apparently feeling right now, namely anxious to lose his friend. For a few days, both Aragorn and he himself had thought that Celylith was dead, and after they had found out that it was not so, he had been hard-pressed not to check on him every two hours to make sure that he was still alive and hadn't left him again.  
  
"Safe journey, my friend. Don't forget the cakes."  
  
The silver haired elf suppressed a wide smile.  
"I will try not to, my lord. Namárië."  
  
With a last nod at his friend, Celylith spurred on his horse, and in a flash he was gone, leaving a rather confused elven prince behind. Legolas remained where he was for a few moments until Celylith had reached the gates and had passed out of sight, and with a small sigh he turned, deciding to head for the healing wing to try and persuade Hithrawyn to take off his bandages now and not in the afternoon. And if he was really, really lucky, he might even be allowed to visit Aragorn; he was getting rather tired of climbing up and down that stupid balcony.  
  
When he reached the steps that led up to the main building, Legolas stopped and turned around again, looking to the West into the direction Celylith had taken. He didn't know why he had appeared so anxious all of the sudden, but he had learned long ago that it was best to heed his silver haired friend's warnings. So, he decided, he would do as he had promised and be careful, even though he could truly not see what should possible happen to him before the twins arrived – after that it was an entirely different matter, of course…  
  
With a small shake of his head he turned and began to climb the stairs, that particular thought nicely distracting him. Those little orcs would pay; he had not yet forgotten what they had done to his spare knives before they had left last autumn!  
  
His mind was spinning with ideas and he was grinning wickedly when he entered the palace, and Celylith's peculiar pleas were quickly all but forgotten.  
  
  
  
  
Night was slowly falling, and the darkness was beginning to creep over the lands like a tangible thing that devoured everything it could lay claim to. Dusk always seemed to make way to night especially quickly here, but at this time of year it happened even more quickly, something that frightened or at least unsettled most travellers.  
  
One man, however, was exceedingly grateful for it, and he even breathed a small sigh of relief as he watched the darkness creep over his equally dark camp and obscure the tents until it was nigh impossibly to see anything, at least for a human's eyes.  
  
Indeed, Reran thought, it was a very good thing that darkness was finally falling. He wasn't as stupid as his much beloved second-in-command; he knew very well that they were, essentially, just begging to be discovered in their current position, unless the other party was blind, deaf or generally daft, and from what he had heard about elves it was not a characteristic of their race to be any of the above. There might be exceptions of course, still, had it been up to him, Reran would never have taken the risk, but – as he had thought many times over the past two weeks – it was not up to him.  
  
'By the Gods, stop whining like a recruit after the first day of training!' he snapped at himself, and quickly turned his head to the side, back towards the camp. He was one of the people who couldn't think well when encased in a tent or in a room, and so none of his men found it curious that he frequently wandered off to sit down somewhere under the open sky to contemplate something or generally be alone.  
  
Of course, he thought darkly, it might very well be that his men found it curious, but they knew better than to comment on their captain's habits. He was the best captain they had at the moment because he had understood some things others never had and never would, and one of them was that you could rule men only two ways. One, through respect, and two, through fear. Reran tried hard to go the first way, and was even succeeding for the most part, even though he admitted that one or two disciplinary measures a year never hurt anybody – except those being disciplined of course, but that was the point of the whole thing in the first place.  
  
He was convinced that ruling through fear never really accomplished anything, even though it was terribly effective sometimes. His lord was the prime example for that, even though that was something Reran didn't even dare think too loudly. He had seen how advisors, messengers, warriors and servants had tried to make excuses or concealed the real extent of some situations to avoid feeling their liege's wrath – a reaction that was absolutely understandable of course if one considered what frequently happened to the bearers of bad news. Still, it did more harm than good if your subordinates were too afraid to tell you the truth, that was something Reran had witnesses on more occasions than once.   
  
He would never share that conviction with anyone though, for even though he had understood these things, he was far too realistic a man not to know what would happen to him should these thoughts reach his lord's ears. As mentioned earlier: His lord's rule was effective, and he had lived too long in his realm not to keep his thoughts to himself.   
Actually, he didn't feel any sympathy with those who complained about their liege and promptly found themselves on the place of execution, facing the hangman and a silent crowd. These people, men and women alike, were fools to have spoken so carelessly, and deserved what they got, for the most part that was. There were some exceptions of course, for Reran really thought that some manners of death employed by the executioners were too unpleasant by far.  
  
That one could control one's people by other means than terrorising them was something that had surely never entered Teonvan's mind, Reran hazarded a guess with a dark smile on his face. For a moment, Reran surveyed the dark camp closely; now that his eyes had had time to adjust to the darkness that surrounded them, he was able to see a little bit more than a black, shapeless mass. Teonvan was not to be seen, and neither were his two lieutenants he had brought with him and whose names Reran adamantly refused to commit to memory, a reaction he knew to be very childish himself, but he just couldn't help it. He had never before loathed a man as fiercely as Teonvan, and he hadn't even really _done _something to deserve these feelings.  
  
Reran had heard rumours back home of course; in a community as isolated as theirs it was nearly impossible not to hear rumours about someone. However, these rumours were worse than most you could hear about the other captains and commanders, and they had contributed to the fact that Reran had studied the younger man very closely when they had first been introduced. That had in fact been the point when he had decided that he couldn't stand Teonvan, and now that he had spent more time with him, however unwillingly, he was beginning to believe every single rumour he had heard about him.  
  
His thoughts continued in that direction for quite some time, and so it came that he was very glad when he finally saw a figure come up to where he was sitting on top of a small hill that was overlooking the camp. He was even gladder when he saw that it was not Teonvan, something for which he was rather thankful because he really wasn't in the mood to put up with him no matter what his lord thought about him, but Cendan, his "real" second-in-command.  
  
Cendan had been intelligent enough to step down without hesitation when it had become public that their lord wished for Teonvan to come with them on this mission, even though Reran knew that he had been anything but happy about it. But as he had said, Cendan was too clever to let these feelings show, a trait that would probably serve him very well when he had a command of his own, if he lived that long, that was.  
  
Reran cocked his head to the side and studied the younger man as he drew closer. Cendan's mother had been from the East, from beyond the vast sea, and from her he had inherited his darker tone of skin and his black hair. The other's eyes were a dark blue, almost grey, in exactly the colour of Cendan's father's and didn't really seemed to fit into the rest of the face.  
  
"Sir," the other simply said and bowed his head when he finally reached him.  
  
'There you go,' a small voice in Reran's head stated pointedly. 'Respect. That's all I ask for, respect.'  
  
The older man smiled slightly and pushed a particularly annoying strand of greying hair behind his ear.  
"Cendan," he nodded his head. "Is there a problem?"  
  
"No," the other man hurried to assure him. "Commander Teonvan sent me to ask for your presence in the camp. The scouts have returned."  
  
The younger man's face creased into a small frown and, for a moment, the fierce temper for which the Easterlings were known flashed in his dark blue eyes before it died as quickly as it had come. Reran would almost have smiled. This, beyond all else, showed that Teonvan was indeed as stupid as a mountain goblin. He wouldn't even recognise an excellent soldier if he was wearing a sign around his neck; that was easily proven by just looking at the two lieutenants he had brought with him – or by an action such as this one. To send an experienced, influential lieutenant who was also popular with the men to do a recruit's job did no harm, certainly, but it was not a wise move. Cendan wouldn't make more of this than it was, but he would certainly not forget it either.  
  
And if Cendan couldn't stand one thing, Reran thought with a small, inward smile, it was being insulted, however unintentional or insignificant it might appear to others, and especially not by a "soldier" like Teonvan.  
  
He voiced none of these thoughts though (nor the rather attractive hope that flittered through his mind, namely that Teonvan might insult Cendan further so that his second-in-command would slit his throat and would therefore spare him a lot of work) and simply gave another nod, pretending not to have noticed the other's reaction to being sent to fetch him like a lad on his first mission.  
  
"Very well. All of them have returned? None of them was discovered?"  
  
Cendan shrugged slightly as they walked down the snow covered hill, eyes on the ground in a vain attempt to see anything in the darkness. It never made a good impression on the men if their superiors stumbled and rolled down a hill head first.  
"All four are back, sir, that is all I can say. I do not think they have been discovered, but … Commander … Teonvan did not inform me of the details."  
  
Yes, Reran decided inwardly, Teonvan _was _an idiot. To openly show that he didn't trust the one directly below him in the chain of command with information as trivial as this one was nothing less than foolish, and it was something that Reran would not tolerate. He was of course of the opinion that subordinates should only be told what they needed to know, but this was something every one of his officers _did _need to know. He would need to have a little conversation with Teonvan, that much was sure…  
  
Without another word the two of them reached the camp, and, ignoring the curious looks some of the men shot them, they quickly walked over to the northern end where Teonvan's tent was located. Reran didn't bother announcing their presence before entering, and so he threw back the front flap, bowing his head as he stepped into the small, dimly lit space.  
  
When he straightened up again, he saw at first glance that Teonvan wasn't happy to see him, even though the man hid his emotions quickly enough, as anyone who had any dealings whatsoever with their lord would have learned long ago. Those who didn't learn usually didn't live long.  
  
The dark haired man inclined his head, whether to show respect or to hide his face Reran wasn't sure, and, to be honest, he didn't care overly much either.  
"The scouts are back, sir."  
  
That, a small, annoyed voice in Reran's head noted, was something he had already seen for himself, for the leader of the men he had sent into Mirkwood nearly two days ago stood right behind Teonvan and was therefore rather hard to miss.  
"Yes, I had gathered as much," he informed his temporary second-in-command coldly. He turned slightly to the side and looked directly at the man who had really managed to return from the Wood-elves' realm alive and in one piece – something he hadn't wholly expected, truth to be told. "What have you found?"  
  
The man gave his three superiors who were crowded into the small tent with him a quick look, not at all liking the tension that hung thickly in the air. That the mission was dangerous had been clear from the very beginning, as well as the fact that their lord would most probably kill all of them should they return home empty-handed, but this kind of tension was really nothing he found comforting. He gave a quick, inward shake of his head. This was not a train of thought that would get him very far.  
  
"My men and I travelled west for several leagues, sirs," he finally began at the impatient stare that his captain was giving him. "As you know they are very hard to find, and we are not even sure if we really have because we didn't dare come too close, but we think we have found a group of approximately the right size."  
  
"Have you now?" Reran asked thoughtfully, leaning back against a tent pole as he thought hard. He had half expected his men not to return – he knew perfectly well how dangerous and hard to trap their prey was said to be – and so he was slightly surprised to find out that they had not only come back safely but also successfully completed their mission. Then again, he thought smugly, he might have had a little more faith in the men. He had trained them well, after all. "How many?"  
  
"Only a small group," the man answered, unconsciously avoiding his captain's intense brown gaze, "It is hard to say. Not more than five, we believe."  
  
"Five," Reran repeated slowly, but before he could add anything, Teonvan had spoken up, eagerness lighting up his pale, cavernous face.  
  
"That should hardly pose a problem," he stated haughtily, interrupting his superior without a second thought. "They will never know what hit them and…"  
  
The man fell silent as he saw the burning look Reran shot him, and averted his eyes quickly. Reran kept staring at him for a few more seconds before he turned to the other man who stood in a corner and skilfully pretended to be oblivious to what had just happened.  
  
"You are dismissed," Reran told him, causing him to incline his head gratefully and disappear out of the tent so quickly that all the older man felt was air brushing past him. Reran turned to Cendan who was giving off the air of someone intensely pleased with what happening around him and added, "Get the men ready to travel. We will leave in half an hour. Make sure we leave as few traces as possible, and the first man who lights a fire or a torch I will personally kill myself. You may inform everyone about it."  
  
Cendan simply nodded his dark head and gave a slight bow, and in a second he was gone too, leaving Reran alone with Teonvan, something that neither seemed to enjoy overly much. Before Teonvan could even blink twice, the older man had moved with a speed he hadn't expected from him, and from one moment to the next he felt himself being lifted off the ground and slammed into the main tent pole that trembled and shook with the impact.  
  
"Do never again interrupt me in front of others," Reran growled quietly, dark eyes fixing unwaveringly on the other's stunned face. "I know very well that our lord desires you to come with us, but this is an operation under _my _command, do you understand?" The blonde man's hands gripped Teonvan's tunic a little bit more tightly, who looked back at his captain with barely disguised fear. "If you once more fail to show me the proper respect or undermine my authority in any way, I will kill you, and be assured that no-one would ever care to ask for the reason. Do you understand?"  
  
Teonvan stared at the captain's face and hurried to nod.   
"Yes, sir," he choked out past the hands that were apparently trying to squeeze all the air out of his lungs.  
  
Reran's pierced him with a hard, threatening look and let him fall to the ground, the fury in his eyes disappearing in an instant, and when he looked back at his second-in-command who was climbing back to his feet coughing, his face was just as neutral as it was his wont.  
"Good," he said curtly and turned to leave the tent. "I expect you to have the men ready to travel in half an hour."  
  
Intimidated as he was, Teonvan still couldn't stop himself from asking,  
  
"But, sir! You intend to go into Mirkwood now? At night?"  
  
Reran took a deep breath and turned back around. He hadn't been entirely serious when he had threatened Teonvan; he knew just what their liege would say if he heard that he had killed the one he himself had assigned as his second-in-command for this mission, and hear about it he would. There was nothing his lord didn't hear about. No, he thought inwardly, unfortunately there was no way he could kill this loathsome man and get away with it. But, he added with a small, dark grin at the other man, that was something Teonvan apparently hadn't understood yet.  
  
"Yes, Teonvan," he said impatiently, "We are going into Mirkwood now. They are not travelling at night, and so we have a much better chance to avoid them. We need to be at the spot the scouts spoke of tomorrow morning, for I intend to end this little game of hide-and-seek as soon as possible. We won't get a much better chance if we still want to be as close to the forest edge as we can. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the other said so quickly that his words seemed to blur together. "Perfectly clear, sir. The men will be ready, sir."  
  
Reran gave him another sharp nod and left the tent, pondering the other's last words. He wasn't really sure if Teonvan had been mocking him with this exaggerated servility or had really been too afraid to even notice what he'd said. There had been fear in his voice, yes, but also something else, a certain … smugness, for a lack of better word.  
  
Perhaps, he thought as he made his way over to his own tent, side-stepping several of his men that rushed around in the darkness in their attempts to break camp as quietly and quickly as humanly possible, he had underestimated Teonvan slightly. Perhaps he did know that he couldn't kill him and ultimately survive himself, perhaps he wasn't as stupid as he had thought him to be but rather sure of his position and the fact that he was in their lord's favour…  
  
Perhaps, he nodded as he entered his tent, perhaps indeed. He would undoubtedly find out, but there were two ways to rule men, after all: Through respect and through fear. Well, if he couldn't get Teonvan's respect – something that he didn't really want anyway, for he didn't think the respect of someone like him worth anything – then fear would have to do.  
  
The Gods knew that he wouldn't allow that foolish man to ruin this entire mission.  
  
  
  
  
"You cannot be serious!"  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes at the young man and gave him a reproachful look.  
"Could you please keep your voice down!" he demanded in a fierce whisper. "Do you want Hithrawyn to carry out his threats and truly kill me?"  
  
"I might!" Aragorn hissed back. "Just tell me you are not seriously contemplating what you just said and I will rethink it though!"  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes again, but decided that the effect was probably lost on the ranger in the darkness that filled the room in the healing wing. The night was dark and starless, somehow appearing darker than the previous nights, and the only light was emitted by the slowly dying embers of the fire in form of a soft glow.  
  
He gave the enraged human a careful look. He was no healer, but in his opinion Aragorn was already much better. He didn't sleep nearly as much anymore, and the coughing fits had stopped almost completely; even the wound in his side was healing nicely and there was no sign of infection. More than that, he was already back to his usual behaviour when forced to remain in bed: He was complaining, threatening, trying to escape and generally a nuisance.  
  
"I don't even know why you're overreacting like this," he shrugged, trying to ignore the outraged expression on the other's face. "I will be gone for only two days."  
  
"You want to leave me here _alone_!" Aragorn corrected, still fuming. "What am I supposed to do? There are not enough books here to keep one occupied for even one day!"  
  
"Now that's not entirely correct," Legolas protested, secretly rather amused about his friend's outburst. "We may not have as big a library as Imladris, but I dare say that there are still enough scrolls to keep even a son of Elrond happy…" He trailed off when he saw the truly dangerous expression on the ranger's face and added quickly, "Or not."  
  
"It's not about the books, Legolas, and you know it!" the man told his friend. "You really intend to leave the palace and leave me here?"  
  
There was no easy way out of this, Legolas thought despairingly. He had known Estel would react angrily to this news, but he hadn't really thought he was well enough yet to make quite such a fuss. Apparently he had been wrong, he decided wryly, Aragorn was obviously really feeling a lot better, just as he claimed.  
  
Very well then, he decided and lifted his chin slightly, the truth hadn't worked, appealing to his understanding hadn't worked, so it was time for the next step: Lying.  
  
"Aragorn," he began, looking at the man with wide, innocent eyes that seemed to take up most of the space in his face, "You know that you would be very welcome to accompany me – if you were strong enough, and you are not, _mellon nín_. That is something you know as well as I do, as does Hithrawyn. Besides, my father wishes me to go, and I cannot refuse his request. I have been here far too seldom of late, and my duties cannot be ignored any longer."  
  
Aragorn nearly looked convinced for a moment before his face broke into a dark grimace.  
"A nice try, my friend," he told the elf friendly. "Nice, but not nice enough. Your father would never order you to leave the palace when you're not fully well, and that is something we both know."  
  
"Well, he didn't exactly _order _me to go," Legolas admitted with a small shake of his head. "But someone needs to check on the southern patrols, and with Celylith gone all the other captains are busy or not here at the moment. You know that we sent a large force north-west four weeks ago to deal with the goblins there? Nearly half a dozen captains left with it. And I am fully well, human."  
  
"You are not, elf," the man shot back immediately and leaned back into his pillows with a particularly exasperated sigh. "Just because Hithrawyn has taken off your bandages it doesn't mean that you're well." He narrowed his eyes slightly and gave his elven friend a long look that Legolas either missed in the darkness or ignored completely. "Wait at least for another day, then that demon that disguises itself as a healer will let me go as well and I can come with you. Ilúvatar only knows what trouble you will get yourself into without me or Celylith to watch your back."  
  
Several possible answers shot through the fair haired prince's head, but he settled for an incredulously arched eyebrow, realising that the other possibilities would probably not be very much appreciated by the ranger. Besides, he really didn't want to explain to Hithrawyn why Aragorn had tried to kill him, even though that reason probably wouldn't even interest the other elf, as long as Aragorn _did _kill him.  
  
"I am not having this conversation with you yet again," he declared solemnly. "We both know who gets the other into trouble, reckless human, don't we?"  
  
"Oh yes," Aragorn agreed. "We do, stubborn elf."  
  
Both of them continued looking at each other with dark expressions that would have convinced any casual observer that they fully intended to latch onto each other's throats in the next few minutes, but after a few seconds both their faces began to lighten into identical grins. Legolas slowly began to grin openly and swatted the man lightly.  
  
"You know I can't wait for you, Estel. I really need to leave tomorrow morning, besides…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I wouldn't want to wait either," the elf confessed, suddenly turning serious. "You are still not back to full strength, even if it only was a cold as you say. I am fully aware of the fact that we have the tendency to get ourselves involved in ... things when we're together, and I do not want to expose you to a dangerous situation if you are not well."  
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn hissed exasperatedly. "Do not mother me! I am well enough to cope with anything that we might encounter!"  
  
"There we disagree, my friend," Legolas shook his head in a stubborn gesture that was so much his father's that Aragorn had to blink to make sure that it was in fact not King Thranduil who was sitting on the edge of his bed – something that wouldn't exactly have alarmed the young ranger but at least astonished him.   
  
"I will not wait," the blonde elf announced firmly. "I will leave tomorrow morning and be back in two days, and you will simply have to find something to do other than tormenting me."  
  
Aragorn gave his friend the _look _and kept glaring at him until the other had to avert his eyes, with a rather casual flick of his head, he had to give him that. He didn't really know if he should feel angry or touched by the elf's concern, and so he settled for a third option: Acting mortally offended.  
  
"And I thought you were my friend!" he glowered darkly. "You don't help me get away from here, you don't even let me get up since 'I am not strong enough yet', you don't help me avenge myself on that … creature that insists on keeping me here, you don't order said creature to let me get up to bid farewell to Celylith, and now you cowardly abandon me! You are in league with him, admit it!"  
  
"With whom?" Legolas asked, trying hard to bite back the grin that was spreading on his face.  
  
"You know who I am talking about!" Aragorn hissed, doing his best to hold onto his dark mood and failing miserably in the face of the prince's mirth. "Hithrawyn of course, who else?!"  
  
"I am not," Legolas shook his head. "I am merely paying you back for mothering me all the time."  
  
"I was never this bad!" the young ranger protested. "This is long past mothering and is bordering on evil."  
  
The elven prince merely kept looking seriously at his human friend, and after a few more moments Aragorn relented, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back again, feeling to his satisfaction that his side pained him only a little bit at the movement.  
"Alright," he conceded in a hurt tone of voice. "Go and check on your patrols. But if you're not back in three days, I'll take my brothers and will be coming after you."  
  
"Your brothers won't be arriving for the next five days," Legolas pointed out, smiling at the other. Inwardly he gave a huge sigh of relief. There had been no way he was allowing Aragorn to accompany him weakened as he still was, and he was glad that the man had accepted that fact with relatively good grace.   
  
"Oh," Aragorn shrugged, a wicked glint appearing in his eyes, "They might be early."  
  
"I pray to Elbereth that they are not," Legolas mumbled under his breath, a far-away look stealing over his eyes. "I haven't had enough time yet…"  
  
"Time? To do what?"  
  
Stunned blue eyes fixed on the human's face.  
"You didn't think I had forgotten what they did to my spare knives before they left, did you?"  
  
"Legolas," the man began cautiously, "Your knives are not living beings, you know? They are objects and…" He fell silent when Legolas shot him a look that should rightly have burnt a hole into his forehead. Swallowing quickly, he added, "And of course it was irresponsible of them to glue them to their sheaths. Perfectly evil and reckless. Your poor daggers must have suffered horribly."  
  
"Yes," the elf agreed in mock seriousness, inwardly howling with laughter at the cautious expression Aragorn wore, "They must have. And that is the reason why you will help me come up with something to get back at those little orcs when they get here."  
  
"Oh," Aragorn raised an eyebrow, "I will?"  
  
"Yes, you will, my friend," the prince affirmed. "Because if you don't I will advise Hithrawyn not to let you go until I get back, and considering the number of junior healers you have already driven to the brink of madness I am inclined to believe that he would be most accommodating."  
  
"That is blackmail!" the man complained outraged.  
  
"Yes, Estel," Legolas grinned. "I believe it is."  
  
"I will get you back for all this," the young man grumbled darkly, watching the elf's smug face in the faint light that lit the chamber. "Once I escape Hithrawyn's clutches you'd better watch your back, elf, because I will think of something, and then may Eru help you."  
  
"I am rather looking forward to it, human," his friend retorted, still grinning, but he quickly turned serious when he saw the truly concerned expression on the other's face. "I will be careful, my friend, I promise," he tried to reassure Aragorn. "It is simply a quiet little trip to see how the patrols in the south are doing, nothing more. We haven't had any alarming reports from that area for months, and I will be gone for only one or two days. I promise not to do anything stupid or reckless without you to drag me even deeper into trouble, alright?"  
  
Aragorn smiled thinly, but the worry in his eyes did not diminish and his scratched forehead remained creased in a frown.  
"Is that supposed to put my mind at ease?"  
  
"Yes," the prince smiled. "Is it working?"  
  
"No."  
  
Legolas laughed lightly and shook his head.  
"I am sorry, _mellon nín_, I truly am, but this is the way it has to be. I'll be fine, you'll see." He ignored the man's dark look and shifted slightly, giving the closed door in his back a quick look to ascertain that no-one had overheard them. "Now let us try to come up with something we can do to your dear brothers, I even have a rather interesting idea…"  
  
Aragorn quickly gave up glaring at his friend and began to listen to his plans, an unbidden grin spreading on his face when he heard what exactly his elven friend had in mind. While Legolas was still explaining what he would do to Elladan and Elrohir if he ever got his hands on them, the man studied his elven friend, suppressing a sudden cold shudder that raced across his back and that had nothing to do with the illness that was slowly releasing its hold on his recuperating body.  
  
He did not like the feeling he was having at all, the feeling that letting his friend go alone – not that he had any choice in the matter – was the worst idea he had ever had in his entire life.  
  
No, he thought darkly, Legolas' promise to be careful did not put his mind at ease at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _mellon nín - my friend  
ada - father (daddy)  
  
  
  
  
_***g* If one listens closely enough, one can even hear the dark, ominous music, right? Well, WE all know how this has to turn out... Okay, so chapter 7 or the chapter in which everything goes straight to hell is approaching, yay! *g* It should be here on Wednesday, I think, definitely not later, don't worry. Reviews will make sure of that, besides, I am addicted to them, so: Review? Please? Pretty Please?  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Deana** - LOL, I admit that _would_ have been funny. But then Hithrawyn would have had a fit and would probably have killed Celylith in his fury, and then the CLF would be coming after me for killing their favourite silver haired elf, and then I would have to go into hiding and couldn't update anymore and... Well, not fun, to make it brief. *g* So, I hope you aren't too disappointed that Legolas didn't pass out. *g*  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Yup, I think you could say that Hithrawyn hates him. But then again, can we blame him? Not really, I think... I know I would go insane as Aragorn's healer. Oh yes, most definitely. *g* Oh, and you're right: Men ARE the worst patients. I can very well remember my brother when he had a fever of, what, 37 °C (which isn't even a fever!)? He acted as if he were about to die! *shakes head* Males... LOL, there's nothing better than a sick, demented kidnapper? Well, at least one of them is, so I guess you're lucky. *g*   
**Amelie** - *wide-eyed* Uhm, I'm sorry? Really? I didn't mean to keep you giys waiting, but it wasn't my fault, really. So, now put away the sledge hammer and calm down, okay? I'm back and Celylith will be back. I promise. (Celylith: *sourly* You didn't mention in what condition. Nili: Shhhhhhhhh!!!) And wait a sec: I was 9 days late and therefor owe you 4 chapters? I owe you two if anything, I mean, considering I post about every four or five days... Anyway, I'm sending Celylith away because I have to get him away from Legolas. I injured Estel just for the same reason; otherwise I would never get Legolas out of the palace alone. Okay? *g* And what race is George, your fell beast? I would very much like to meet him - I love dangerous creatures...  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - *sighs and hauls her out of Estel's bed* Out! He needs rest! Out! *shakes head* Jeez, these people... Well, I don't exactly fall in love with my baddies, but I like them a lot. But I can still kill them, so I don't have problems like that. What's really hard is to kill the good guys - I'm still not over Nólad. *sighs* And you did what? You actually spoke with your friend about me? Well, I don't know whether that's flattering or scary... And: Elf pain's coming, don't worry, and Estel pain won't be too far behind. Patience, my friend. *g*  
**Gwyn** - *nods grudgingly* Yeah, I guess the Glorfindel thing would work. But I'll just try not to let it come that far and keep it as a last resort... *g* And believe me: The waiting was horrible for me as well! 14 days without internet! I still think it's a miracle I survived that - though I think it míght have made me even more evil and sadistic... *shrugs* Ah well.  
**Joee1** - Don't apologise, that's okay, the poking, I mean. I couldn't expect all of you to check out my bio - that's something I wouldn't have done myself. And yes, poking does work from time to time! See, the next post is here! Yay! *g* Thanks for all your nice (poking) reviews!  
**Red Tigress** - *g* Yup, it all makes perfect sense - to me at least. And I'm kinda weird, so I'm not really the right person to ask. Thanks for being so understanding, and I hope this update was fast enough! Well, faster than the last one at least...  
**Firniswin** - The orcs from Mississippi? Do I even want to know what you're talking about? No, probably not ... and get away from me! The last thing I need is the flu! Shoo! And if I were you I wouldn't rely on your reviewers waiting patiently. *gives her own a cautious look* Some of them can become quite vicious, really... Anyway, I hope you're better now! I would huggle you but I don't want to catch the flu so I won't. You can consider yourself huggled, though. *g*  
**Calenore** - I agree. Aragorn deserves it, that reckless, stubborn human. *nods* He does. That's weird, a lot of people liked the "smug monkey", something I hadn't though to be all that amusing. Funny... Great you liked it - and Isáviel, of course. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**TrustingFriendship** - LOL, yeah, and I am so good to you because I love you and your reviews! It's a vicious circle, that's what it is... *g* Well, if you enjoy the slimy baddies getten beatne up, I think you're just right here since teonvan is - I admit it - a particularly slimy evil guy. *huggles her* Thanks a lot! I misse you guys too, and am MOST GLAD to be back!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Yeah, all my evil dudes seem to have an evil plan. I guess that's part of the job, since evil dudes _without_ a plan tend to get themselves killed very quickly and then what would I write about? *g* LOL, the Troublesome Three? That's a really neat name - even though they probably wouldn't appreciate it all that much... And you're right: It WAS Legolas' fault. Stupid, irresponsible elfling, that's what he is. *nods*  
**Strider's Girl** - Well, I hope the two of them are maturing a little! I mean, another year with them behaving as stupidly as they are now and they'll be dead! And you're right: I would go insane as well if I were unlucky enough to be Aragorn's healer! He's a menace ... and I would most certainly drug him too. Yup. I would.  
**Jenny** - Oh, that would be inhuman! I mean, afer a few days in the healing wing everyone would go insane - the baddies wouldn't stand a chance... *g* Anyway, thanks for all your great reviews! *huggles* I love every single one of them!  
**Mouse5** - Ah, I see. Horse racing, that's something my sister would find greatly fascinating. I don't like horses all that much - and I don't bet either, not for money, that is. With my notoriously bad luck I wouldn't last two weeks... *g* And 19 million people watch it? Really? Well, it has to be fascinating then...  
**LOTRFaith** - LOL, it wasn't exactly a tree. More a little branch. Nothing serious, really... *g* God, I'm starting to sound like Aragorn, somebody shoot me. Hmm ... impalation ... good question. I don't think it exists, since my online dictionary didn't find it, but if it doesn't it ought to! *g* I like it. A lot. Im-pa-la-tion...  
**Lina** - Oh, poor you! Here, let my dog huggle you - sorry I can't do it myself, but I really don't need the flu or a cold right now. Besides, my dog is a nice dog. Trust me, he likes about everyone... *dog nearly bites off Lina's head* Ah well, there are some exceptions.... LOL, you're right, that scene is slightly like Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I simply _love_ that movie. *giggles* The Black Knight is great... ROTFL! Éomer the male nurse! Now THAT is something new... And don't worry Éomer: The story wasn't boring. Not at all. *g*  
**Elenora1** - Oh yes, it was VERY frustrating, believe me. I was very close to run amok and do something I might have regretted later - or not. *grrr* Stupid phone people... Well, it's great to hear that you like the humour, and don't worry about the angst and drama, mate. There's more than enough in chapter 8, trust me on this... *shaked head sadly* More than enough, indeed... *huggles her* Thanks for waiting so patiently! Your review was great as always!  
**Suzi9** - *nods fervently* That's right. Don't feed her. Yesterday she somehow got a candy stick and you don't want to know what THAT did... *shudders* A terrible memory indeed... And I don't know what you mean, your reviews are still longer than most of the others I get, honestly! I'm always looking forward to them. *blushes* Thank you! It's very nice to heat that you like my OCs, funnily I'm never afraid that people don't like them. Well, there are exceptions, for example Seveawen in the last story, but I guess that was because she's a girl. Besides, I kill most of my OCs anyway, so even of people don't like them it's not too bad... *evil grin* And Jeez, calm down! The baddies are here and won't go anywhere in the near future, so relax.... That's it, calm down... *g* Calm. Yes, Calm is good.  
**Shauna** - Hmm, I guess this chapter is a lot of talking with little action as well, but things are starting to hear up from the next chapter on, don't worry. And I know: the two of them are really incapble of learning, aren't they? They're kinda stupid, really... *g* *blushes* Thanks for all your kind words and compliments; it's great to hear that you like the new characters. *huggles* Oh, and I'm very glad you didn't fall off your chair this time! Well done!  
**Zam** - *g* So you liked the monkey too, right? I hadn't thought it to be so funny, well, I guess that is because there is a phrase that's rather similar to that one in German. I hadn't realised that it apparently doesn't exist in English, silly me. LOL, don't worry, Celylith hasn't really DONE anything. He didn't even flirt with the healer - well, not really anyway. I mean, she WAS beautiful with that long dark hair and the large blue eyes, but I'm sure Celylith was not interested in her. *watches Zam's head explode* Huh? What? What did I say? *wipes brow* Phew, for a moment I really thought that cloning machine really worked - we got lucky I guess....  
**Sirithiliel** - Hmm, you're right in a way, I guess. I think Celylith's getting used to the stunts Legolas and Aragorn are constantly pulling - so I guess he's more annoyed than disrespectful by now. Great you still like it, thanks for the review!  
**LeapingLizard83** - Wow, I guess that's my shortest review ever. Thanks for sending it, it's great to hear that you like it!  
**Firegirl353** - Yeah, I guess you're right. The twins wouldn't bother with such trivialities as lighting a fire to roast them over. Hmm, I guess Reran won't go insane. He's rather annoyed by now, but not insane. He won't learn that Adruran is still alive though, I think. I'm not yet sure about it, so he might, but I am sure that Adruran won't make an appearance. Who is the mysterious lord guy? Sorry, but I can't tell you that. It would ruin the whole thing, and we can't have that, right? But don't worry, he will be in this story so, eventually, you will find out. Patience. *g*  
**Dha-Gal** - Oh yes, I did like the Skittles. I love Skittles, yessss, precioussss, we doessss.... *g* Yeah, you're the second person to suggest something like that, but I don't think that that would be so very good, if Legolas fell off the balcony, I mean. He couldn't leave the palace then and we would have no story. See my point? And don't worry, it did make me laugh, even though I think that Hithrawyn's not as bad as Count Dracula - until now, that is. *g* *huggles again* Thanks for the review!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Well yes, compared to our dear friend Leafie Aragorn is not really healing al that fast, I'll admit that. *g* Good, Reran was meant to remind people of Adruran, but no, they're not related. I think Adruran was kinda a mentor to Reran, even though he was a bit younger. And yes, Teonvan is a bit like Geran, even though I like him even less. He's just plain evil. *grabs her gun* Don't do that! You're too young for a gun anyway, besides, no hunting my baddies, understood? *glares* I seriously hope so...  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, I am sort of hoping to publish a book one day. The only thing is that I have to start one, that's the problem... *shrugs* Well, we'll see. Perhaps I'll really start one sometime. And I think it's understandable that Hithrawyn and his merry band of healers think that a cold is a serious illness. I mean, they don't have that many humans there after all, and only limited experience with human ailments. But then again, Hithrawyn probably likes to be mean too... *g*  
**Nikara** - Who, me? I am doing what? Sending Celylith away so I can get Legolas and Aragorn into trouble? *innocently* Whatever gave you THAT idea? *g* Well, this wasn't posted on Thursday, but I hope it was still soon enough!  
**Firnsarnien** - Yup. Adorable. That's what they are. I love them, especially Cendan and Reran. They're kinda sweet, aren't they? And don't worry, you will get your angst and H/C! There more than enough in chapter 8... *shakes head sadly* Oh yes. Well, THIS is chapter 6, but ah well. Doesn't really matter, huh?  
**Sabercrazy** - Oh yes, I remember you. You were THAT girl, the one that tried to get out of the room five times in as many minutes. But you're right: How can they think out 'condition' is something that's curable? Or that we want to be cured in the first place? Ignorants, the whole lot of them... *g* *slightly wide-eyed* Well, great that you like Estel's little illness and Hithrawyn's increasingly scary behaviour. Our heroes aren't so happy abou it, but as long as you guys are happy... *g*  
**LeggyLover03** - LOL, you said it! The 'P'-word! Don't look so innocent, you know which word I mean! *g* But okay, the p*** and angst are coming up next, but more for Legolas than for Estel right now. You'll have to be patient a bit longer yet... *g*   
**Bailey** - *seriously* I don't know. It was a close thing, really. I think two more days and I would have been too far gone. That's what internet deprivation does to some people... *g* I wouldn't have climbed anywhere either. WE are sensible, Legolas is simply stupid. *nods* Reckless, stupid elf. And Celylith is a WHAT? I mean, honestly, would YOU stay and explain to the twins what had happened to Estel when you had any other choice? I know I wouldn't. And don't worry, I won't be trying to kill Celylith this time - I think. Hmm, we'll see, now that you mention it... *g* And yes, of course the men are evil. They are my baddies. That's their job.  
**Louise_Oblique** - Yeah, I guess this is really better than homework, but then again, about everything is, right? Thanks for the compliment though, and thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Alisha B** - ROTFL! You are evil! Or that would be an evil thing to do! I think Legolas would kill Aragorn if he pretended to stop breathing... It WOULD be funny though, I'll give you that... Oh, you're having an exam? Well, my condolences then, I hope that it went well if it's already over? In the other case Good Luck!  
**Alilacia** - *g* Go on girl, have fun. But the university staff and the phone company derserve it. *g* I don't think that Aragorn will ever become immune to the look. I mean, Elrond's is WAY scarier than his version, right? LOL, you're right, there are lots of blackmailing possibilities there! Poor Legolas, he really has no idea what he's got himself into, right? *huggles him* Poor elfling.  
**Iverson** - You are very welcome. It was my pleasure to update. *g* And of course I missed writing evil people! Most of the time they're more interesting than the good ones. *g* You're right, Aragorn was most probably not reasonable, but he thinks he is, that stubborn human. *shakes head* He's kinda stupid sometimes, huh? And I did not describe it like a spear! I mean, it was a branch. Maybe not a really little one, but not a spear either. *g* And I don't drive him to insanity - he already IS mad. He was a long time before we met, I swear! *innocently* *hangs head* Okay, I AM sort of horrible to them. But they don't want a break, really! *covers Aragorn's and Legolas' mouths before they can protest* See? They are happy! Hmm, the names ... that depends. Some I make up, for example Cendan and Teonvan once I decided to have more names ending with "-an". Sometimes, I take real names Tolkien created, like Frór and Frerin in THOM. Sometimes, I create real elvish names with a meaning, for example Galalith, sometimes, I take elvish names and change them a little, like Anardir (from Anardil, meaning sun-friend/lover). It really depends, sometimes I even use a name generator, but not really for elvish names. I prefer them to be accurate and have at least some meaning. *g*  
**Mystic Girl1** - Ach, nicht doch. Ich renne doch nicht vor einer kleinen Review davon... *sieht auf Absender* Mein Gott! Von Mystic? Neeeiiinnnn!!!! *rennt weg* Uhm, na ja, wie auch immer... *g* LOL, ich mochte ganz besonders Thranduils Theorie. In einem Monsunregen ertrinken ... das haette doch mal was, nech? *knuddelt Estel* Nicht weinen, wir moegen dich wirklich. Wir sind nur ein klein bisschen abartig und zeigen es auf seltsame Weise, mach dir gar nichts draus... *g* Ich weiss genau, was du meinst. Unsere Klassenfahrten sind auch immer unweigerlich so geendet. Alle miteinander. Ein Ue-Ei-Elrond? Na, das ist nun echt fies...   
**Aratfeniel** - *grrr* Don't mention that name. I haven't seen the Ext. Version yet, and I react rather ... irrationally sometimes when I hear its name. Okay? And I think so too. Legolas is finally learning that Aragorn gets himself in nothing but trouble. I think. Then again, he doesn't learn anything, that reckless elf... *g*  
**Critternut** - Yup, the baddies are a lot like the last ones. They are from the same place and are serving in the same military after all, so they're bound to be alike. And Reran and Adruran are really a lot alike, which, once again, was deliberate. LOL, the evil lord is indeed mean and vicious, and don't worry, he'll be in this story a little later on. *g* I think Aragorn would be very happy about a book right now. I still don't know what I'm going to do to Legolas. I'm still rather reluctant about the legs. Hmm, we'll see. Thanks a lot for the long review, and I promise I'll think about the legs! *g*  
**Carla** - *g* Recht hast du. Sie saessen immer noch da und wuerden erzaehlen, dass alles nur "scratches" sind wenn ihnen diverse Koerperteile fehlen wuerden... *g* Ja, das ist so mein Markenzeichen, nehme ich an. Ich kann nicht einfach sofort in die Geschichte springen, sondern brauche immer ein bisschen Anlaufzeit. Ist auch wichtig, um neue Chraktere und so einzufuehren, also gar nicht so ungut, nehme ich an. H/C bedeutet Hurt/Comfort, auch ein Genre. Fast so schoen wie Angst. *g*  
**Zinnith** - *huggles* Great to see you again! I really missed you! And don't worry, I totally understand. RL has the tendency to interfere with your hobbies, but then again, it's REAL life after all and has the right to. LOL, if you impale Aragorn you at least know where he is? Well, that's an interesting way to see it... *g* It's great to hear that you like the story so far, thanks ver much for your review! *huggles again*  
**Marbienl** - Ooh, fast computers are always fun. *huggles her own* I love it! It's great to hear that you're all settled in! *blushes* Thank you for saying that! It's nice to hear that my OCs are loved, I think that's because I love them as well! Come here, baby! *clings to Celylith's leg and refuses to let go* LOL, Hithrawyn is indeed learning, he's had enough time too, right? I still think he's a very, very poor elf... *pats his head in sympathy* Yes, I guess Celylith would have studied bahavioural sciences or something, I think he would've become very happy too! And yes, I'll think about the story. I guess I could do a short one like the one for Kaeera, which I wrote in about three weeks, and that was long since I didn't really write much then. So, it should be doable. And ... what dwarf? Are you sure Frór is still there? *cackles evilly as Marbienl dashes to the balcony*  
  
**See? This update was on time! I'm not always late ... hey! You! You back there! Stop laughing this instant! *threatening glare* **  
  



	7. Hunter, Prey

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Yes, I posted the last chapter on time. Just like this one. *threatening look* I CAN update timely, even though I haven't really managed to lately - which, of course, wasn't my fault. Things are never my fault, naturally... *g*  
  
Well, first things first: I do NOT want to hear anything about RotK. Understood? I am going to see it on Sunday, all three movies to be precise, and the first person who tells me _anything_ about the movie will die a slow, painful, agonising death. I will give him/her to Teonvan so the good man can warm up a little, understood? I am not kidding, people! *glares at readers* Alright then. Nice to see that you're so reasonable. *g*  
  
I am very glad to hear that most of you were indeed able to hear the dark, ominous music. It was quite audible too... And I absolutely agree with you: 'Stupid' isn't strong enough ****a ****word for Legolas' behaviour. I'm telling you, that elf _wants_ to get captured, tortured and generally hurt in every conceivable way. *hastily* Not that any of the above will be happening in this story, of course. No, I would _never_ write things like that, I prefer topics such as fluffy animals and flowers. You know, the really tense things...  
  
Okay, I think that my alter ego has done something to my brain; I'm beginning to babble nonesense. The first person who tells me that there is not much of a difference between this and my usual behaviour will join those who tell me about RotK and have a nice meeting with our resident psychopath, Teonvan. *g*   
  
  
So, the much anticipated chapter 7 is here! Most of the action is in the next chapter though, so consider yourselves warned. Other than the already eagerly awaited doom, Reran and Cendan have a little discussion and remember their dear friend Adruran, Aragorn is sulking and I already mentioned the doom, didn't I? Yup, I did. Well, it's there. The doom, I mean. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
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Chapter 7  
  
  
Taking a deep breat of the clear, cold air, Legolas brushed off a little bit of the snow that had begun to coat the strands of his fair hair that had managed to escape the constrains of his hood and studied his surroundings as best as he could.  
  
Even with keen elven eyesight it was not easy, for all he could see were the swirling, thick, icy-grey streams of snow that fell heavily to the earth, so heavily that it was hard to see anything that was not right in front of your nose. The elf was not at all bothered by the cold and in fact rather enjoyed the experience, even though he kept a careful eye on his surroundings. He thought it highly unlikely that there was something else than he out here – as Aragorn would have said, only he, Legolas, was stupid enough to be outside in a weather like this – because all other creatures he knew, including orcs and wargs, preferred to stay in their homes when the elements were raging like this, but it never hurt to be a little too careful.  
  
It was indeed nice to be away from the palace, and considering the weather he had to admit it: He was very, very grateful that he had not taken his human friend with him.  
  
That was of course something Legolas would not have openly admitted even under the worst of tortures since he knew perfectly well how irked Aragorn would be about a statement such as this, but it was the truth. The illness the ranger was still suffering from had once again more than anything else in the past four weeks impressed upon the elf that his friend was, after all, only human. He didn't mean it in a derogatory sense of course, even though Aragorn would undoubtedly understand it thus had he heard it, and that was a reason why he would never say it.  
  
Even despite – or perhaps because – of what they had seen and been through in the past few years Aragorn was still not at all comfortable with his ancestry and what others called his destiny, and Legolas knew that the man had wished more than once that he could simply have remained Estel Elrondion. While his new-found identity bore heavily on Aragorn, it didn't matter to Legolas in the slightest, yet the fact remained: Even though of Númenórean blood, Aragorn was a man, and therefore possessed all the weaknesses – and strengths – of a mortal body.   
  
To watch his friend fall ill for no reason Legolas could understand had brought back to the elf's attention that he was not nearly as resilient as one of the firstborn and that it was far easier for him to succumb to things like cold and ice. It was easy to forget sometimes that Aragorn was, in fact, not elven, since even despite his definitely human appearance he was more an elf, both in heart and in mind.   
  
But he was not, Legolas reminded himself firmly, and that was the reason why he had insisted that Aragorn remained behind this time. No-one in Mirkwood knew much about human illnesses, he was the first to admit that, but in the last three years he had learned some very important lessons, and one of them was never to trust Aragorn when he claimed to be "fine", "alright", "well" or anything of the like. So if Aragorn said that this particular illness didnrequire one to rest for longer than three or four days, the truth was probably closer to five or six days, and Legolas was quite sure that it wasn't good either to go on a trip so quickly after having recovered.  
  
It was for the man's own good, the elf nodded quickly. Besides, he didn't really want to explain to the twins that their human brother had suffered a relapse because they had let him go on a trip too soon, something that was rather probable as everyone agreed, especially considering their luck. Legolas grinned. His father hadn't been too unhappy to hear that Legolas was indeed going to check on the patrols – even though he was even happier to hear that he would be leaving Aragorn behind.  
  
The prince frowned. His father had indeed been rather strange lately, and that particular behaviour seemed to have even increased after their return from their little … ill-fated hunting trip. Really, he thought annoyed, his father was behaving as if it had been their fault that they had collided with the tree! It had been an accident, but during the few times Legolas had seen his father since their return to the palace (his ears were still ringing from the lecture he had received then and he did _not _want to repeat that experience if somehow possible) he had been unable to convince him that that was indeed so. Thranduil just didn't want to hear anything about it, really, all he cared about at the moment was that Elladan and Elrohir would be arriving in the next five days, would stay for a little while and would then leave – with Aragorn.   
  
Making a mental note to himself to try and convince his father to let him accompany them, Legolas carefully guided his horse around a fallen tree that lay half-way on the path, all but hidden in the swirling snow all around him. Not that he would have needed to bother, really, Rashwe was one of the most intelligent – and, if one believed Aragorn and his brothers, evil – horses he had ever had, and he wouldn't allow his master to fall because he had overseen something as insignificant as a tree.  
  
All that the white, gleaming horse seemed to convey in a single, dark look when it shortly turned its head into Legolas' direction, and the elven prince once again found himself surprised at how much like Aragorn his horse could look. That was yet another thing he would never tell the man, of course, who would probably not be too happy to be compared to a horse, and certainly not to Rashwe.   
  
But really, Legolas thought with a wide smile, Aragorn had looked just like that when he had come to his room in the healing wing to say good-bye – even though he had looked a little bit angrier…  
  
  
_"You're still here?"  
  
Legolas raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He hadn't really expected Aragorn to be happy about the fact that he was "abandoning" him, but a bit more courtesy was not really too much to ask for, was it? The elven prince gave the scowling face of the man a quick look. Well, he admitted after a second, apparently it was.  
  
"Yes," he replied, sitting down on the chair next to the human's bed and deciding to ignore the other's foul mood. "I am still here."  
  
"Oh," Aragorn replied and waved his hand dismissively, "Don't stay because of me. Go and have fun without me. Goodbye."  
  
"Strider!" Legolas said surprised, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he leaned closer and peered intensely into the other's frowning face. "Are you … sulking?"  
  
To his satisfaction, he saw slight redness creep up the man's face as he shook his head fervently.  
"No, of course I am not sulking. Rangers do not sulk."  
  
Legolas merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow that reminded the young man eerily of his brothers when he had just told them something incredibly stupid, and so he relented with a small smile.  
"Very well, I might have sulked a little. And you have to admit that it was well within my rights! You get to have fun outside this … this prison and I have to stay here till at least this afternoon."  
  
"It won't be fun, Strider," the elf told his unhappy friend, trying to cheer him up a little. "Have you looked outside yet? It's snowing."  
  
"So what?" Aragorn retorted darkly. "Everything is better than having to stay here watching Hithrawyn when he is wearing that particularly smug expression."  
  
"It's only for another day, then you're free to go."  
  
"Oh, is it?" the man asked in a silky tone of voice. "Then why don't you stay here, mellon nín?"  
  
"Because I'm not insane," Legolas grinned. "It took all my influence to make Hithrawyn allow me to come and say goodbye; I don't even want to know how he would react if I wanted to stay here."  
  
"It would be interesting to see it though," Aragorn commented thoughtfully. "I'__ve_ _ always wanted to see him wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze … and squeeze … and…"  
  
The young ranger trailed off, a dreamy expression on his face, and for a moment Legolas didn't know whether he should laugh or be offended by his friend's words. He quickly decided to ignore them and rose to his feet, knowing full well that he had only seconds left until Hithrawyn appeared in the door telling him that his time was up. The blonde healer had been very reluctant to allow him to visit Aragorn at all, and only a direct order had finally made him change his mind.  
  
"I need to go, my friend," he said, giving his human friend a tentative smile. "Try not to get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone, alright?"  
  
"You shouldn't be the one talking," the ranger muttered darkly. "It is you who attracts every single foul creature in a radius of a thousand leagues."  
  
"I beg to differ," Legolas all but huffed. "Let us not forget who impaled himself on a branch four days ago, shall we?"  
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes at the blonde elf.  
"That was entirely your fault, as has been established."  
  
"If you are trying to engage me in our twenty-seventh debate about this very topic in order to delay my departure, you can be assured that it will not work."  
  
"I would never do such a thing," Aragorn retorted, eyes twinkling mischievously and stating the direct opposite of that statement. He shook his head minutely, his face turning solemn again, and fixed a serious, penetrating stare on his best friend's amused face. "Be careful, Legolas, please. I do not like this at all."  
  
"Aragorn," the elf was very close to rolling his eyes now. "You needn't be concerned. It's only a short trip; nothing will happen. I can look after myself, even as I am now."  
  
"I know that," his friend nodded quickly. "I know that you are more than capable of defending yourself, stubborn elf. I just have a very bad feeling about this trip, that is all. Please look after yourself and do not go looking for trouble. Promise me."  
  
Legolas shook his head, beginning to get slightly worried now himself. First Celylith and then Aragorn, that just couldn't be good… For a moment he contemplated whether he should tell Aragorn about the curious warning his silver haired friend had given him before his departure, but quickly decided against it. Aragorn would probably fly into one of his unreasonable, over-protective fits and would insist that he stayed here. The elf had to hide a small, amused smile at the thought. He could just picture it: Aragorn fluttering around him like a big, startled mother hen while he dragged him to his father's study__. The inward smile turned into a frown. And his father would probably order him to stay behind, looking at him as if he got himself into all these situations on purpose. No, Legolas decided quickly, that would not do.  
  
"I promise," he told the man earnestly. "Do not worry, I'll be back before you know it, and then may the Valar help your brothers because I will personally forbid anyone here to do it."  
  
Aragorn gave him a rather strained-looking smile and nodded his head slightly.  
"I can hardly wait." He gave his elven friend a last, long look and finally waved his hand into the direction of the door. "Go then. Leave me here to rot, I don't mind."  
  
Legolas smiled back and bent down to ruffle the man's tousled hair just to annoy him, jumping backwards quickly when Estel growled and swatted at him. Only the man's_ _brothers were allowed to tousle his hair, and that only because they had been successfully ignoring all his protestations that he was too old for such "childish" things ever since he had turned sixteen.  
  
"Alright then," he told his scowling friend. "I'll go."  
  
The elven prince turned on his heel and walked into the direction of the wooden door, but stopped when he reached the threshold. He turned and looked back at Aragorn, sincerity and a little amusement in his eyes.  
"I'll be back in two days, reckless human, I promise."  
  
With that he opened the door and quickly stepped out, closing it behind him soundlessly. Aragorn simply stared after him for a while, not really knowing himself just why he was feeling so anxious, and finally shook his head slightly.  
  
"See that you are, stubborn elf, see that you are."_  
  
  
Legolas shook his head again. Aragorn could be just as bad as Elladan and Elrohir when it came to over-protectiveness, even though the man was thousands of years younger than he. Compared to him Aragorn was a mere child, and a rather irresponsible at that, but somehow the young ranger always saw it fit to mother him, Ilúvatar alone knew why.  
  
The elven prince grinned lightly. He didn't really know why Aragorn felt that he needed his protection, but it both annoyed and touched him. It should be him who looked after his friend, and yet he found himself in the position of the one needing his help more often than he liked to remember. It wasn't that he didn't trust Aragorn or felt that he couldn't accept help from him, but it simply was not in his nature to ask for assistance or have to rely on others for help.   
  
It was a feeling Legolas was, to his dismay, not entirely unfamiliar with, but that didn't change the fact that he didn't like it at all in the slightest. His independence was among the things he defended the fiercest, and that was the reason why he hadn't objected to his father's request to come here and check on the patrols.  
  
The elf trusted his horse's senses that would lead them safely down the path leading southwards, and dropped his gaze to his hands. It was rather ironic that now his left arm was the stronger one, the very arm that had been giving him so much trouble since his little, rather abrupt, encounter with a cliff base. Hithrawyn had taken off the bandages on his right arm yesterday; he was an elf after all, and the injuries he had suffered when they had collided with the tree had, essentially, been nothing worse than deep scratches and rather extensive bruising.   
  
It was already nearly healed and gave him only little trouble, and still he hoped that it had been right what he had told both of his friends repeatedly, namely that nothing would happen to him. He was really not looking forward to the prospect of having to draw a bow with _two _useless hands; he would probably be a greater threat to himself than to anything or anyone else.  
  
Legolas took his thoughts off that displeasing subject with a tired sigh. He really tried to heed Aragorn's words and be patient, but he found it to be very hard. Well, he decided with a small frown, he would prove to himself that he could leave his home without suffering a dreadful accident, that would be a start; and only after that he would worry about his arm.  
  
The elf nodded to himself, deep in thought, his white horse nearly melting into the white surroundings that were nearly obscured by the swirling masses of snow. He was already close to the first patrol's position, and should be able to visit two more before nightfall. Then he could visit three more tomorrow to the west and he would be able to get back to the palace, hopefully before Aragorn set fire to it or destroyed it in some other way in his boredom.  
  
A large smile on his face, Legolas spurred on his horse slightly, following the winding path that led him even deeper into snow-capped darkness of the forest.  
  
  
  
  
One part of Reran was grinning like a maniac, whereas another, slightly smaller part was cursing profusely inside his head. Had the man displayed those emotions openly, everyone who would have laid eyes on him would quickly have come to the conclusion that he was mad, or at least well on his way of becoming so.  
  
These rather conflicting feelings had one very simple reason: The snow. The part of the human captain that was thinking like a soldier – and that was decidedly the larger part – was delighted about the snow. Snow could be a slight hazard of course since it hid the ground and made you prone to stumbling or falling over things you couldn't see, but that small disadvantage was made up for by the facts that snow also hid you and dampened the sounds of your footsteps – something that would definitely come in handy.  
  
On the other hand, a small voice inside his head noted wryly, snow was also cold and wet, and if other people couldn't see you, it usually meant that you couldn't see other people either, which was not at all good in their current position.  
  
Reran shook his head and banished these thoughts from his mind. It wouldn't help complaining about things that could not be changed; the snow was falling, and as far as he could see, it would continue doing so for quite some time as well.  
  
The man turned back to his men and let his gaze wander slowly over the huddled forms of freezing men whose light-coloured cloaks were coated with a rather thick layer of ice and snow, helping them to blend into their surroundings. None of the men Reran looked in the eye seemed overly happy with the situation – something that was entirely understandable of course, since they had spent the night stumbling through the dark forest and had nearly got eaten by two wargs that had been aggressive and desperate for a kill.   
  
The blonde man's eyes darkened at the thought. No-one had suspected an attack, and they hadn't had any warning at all before the two beasts had attacked them. One of his men had been killed and another injured badly before they had managed to slay the creatures, a fact that did not sit well with him at all. The wargs had been starving, and only their overwhelming hunger must have driven them to attack a group of over twenty humans.   
  
Still, he had given orders to be extra careful, since wargs usually travelled in much larger packs, yet another fact that added to his already substantial unease. Nothing had happened though, and Reran was beginning to suspect that the two animals had been the remnants of a much larger group that had either been separated or been attacked itself not too long ago, and he was willing to bet half a year's pay that, if that had been the case, the animals had had an encounter with the very group _they _had come to hunt.   
  
If that was so, the man thought wryly, the other wargs were most probably dead and would bother no-one ever again.  
  
A small noise next to him alerted him to someone's presence, and Reran turned to find himself face to face with his lieutenant, Cendan. The older man nodded at the other, noting wryly that Cendan looked even colder than he himself felt, if such a thing was even possible.  
"Cendan. How are the men holding up?"  
  
"As w-well as can be expected, sir," the younger man replied as he tried to force his teeth to stop chattering. "Everyone has been informed of the punishment for lighting a fire or wandering off, and there have been no incidents yet."  
  
Reran nodded his head slowly. That wasn't at all surprising, really. His men were professionals and were trained better than to do something as foolish as that, besides, none of them was foolish enough to risk being flogged to death for something as trivial as lighting a fire. His men knew that he didn't do such things for the mere fun of it, but they also knew that he never made idle threats.  
  
"I thought as much," he said evenly. No, most of his men might be ruthless, hard-hearted sons of orcs who would sell their own mothers if they would profit from it in any way, but they were not totally daft either. "Are Teonvan and the others back?"  
  
Cendan quickly hid the scowl on his face when the dark haired commander was mentioned, and had to fight the sudden urge to reach for his dagger. It was an instinctive reaction on his part, but he knew that his captain, even though he didn't like Teonvan either, wouldn't tolerate such a sign of disrespect and disobedience. If there was one thing Reran demanded from his men, it was respect, and anyone who forgot his place or acted in a way he was not entitled to quickly found himself facing his wrath and Cendan had yet to see one who had enjoyed that experience at all.  
  
The dark haired man took a deep breath and shook his head. If he were given the chance, he would gladly kill that loathsome man, but he knew that he would not and so he pushed the anger to the back of his mind. He knew Reran reasonably well and was aware of the fact that he was not having such a good day. It was never wise to offend him in any way when he was in a bad mood.  
  
"No, sir," he answered in what he hoped was a neutral voice. "But from what the scouts told us, we should be very close to them right now, and, technically speaking, they should therefore be back in a few minutes."  
  
"Aye," Reran nodded darkly. "One would think so." He gave the quiet figure of his lieutenant a quizzical look. "What do you think of our mission, Cendan? You can speak freely."  
  
Cendan would almost have laughed aloud. He trusted his captain, to a certain degree, but definitely not _this_ much.  
"It is not my place to question our lord's decisions," he finally said carefully.  
  
To his surprise, Reran threw back his head and laughed.  
"Very diplomatic, Cendan," he chuckled. "Very diplomatic, you may have missed your true calling." He shook his head slightly. "You are right, it was a question best left unanswered. Tell me what you think of our chances of success then."  
  
The younger man gulped inwardly, keeping the steady, emotionless façade for that his mother's people were known firmly in place. Was this a trick question?  
"I think," he began, carefully weighing his words, "That we will of course succeed. But in my opinion we could very well suffer some heavy losses, especially if the scouts were right and there are four or five of them."  
  
Reran nodded his head in agreement with his assessment.  
"A good answer, Cendan, a good answer. I for my part still hope that they were wrong and there are less than five. I do believe we could overcome even their resistance, but it would be bloody, far bloodier than I would like. I still hope to do this quickly."  
  
"Do you think that realistic?" Cendan asked. "I see no way we can fight five of them and hope not to alert the whole forest to our presence. The chances that some of them escape into the trees are too great."  
  
His captain nodded again, grimacing darkly.  
"I know." He narrowed his eyes, looking emotionlessly at the younger man. "Tell me then, Cendan, how does one fight our prey?"  
  
"How does one fight elves?" Cendan repeated, an amused sparkle in his eyes. "Well, I still remember Captain Adruran who always said that they are more trouble than they are worth. And the same allegedly goes for rangers."  
  
"Correct," the other smiled. "I think Adruran was right, and therefore the right way to fight elves is not to fight them at all."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Reran looked at his lieutenant with a raised eyebrow.  
"I hope you don't share Commander Teonvan's view that elves are no more dangerous than any other creature in this part of Wilderland?" When the other mutely shook his head, he continued, "I for my part do not share it at all. Elves are dangerous, as Captain Adruran and his men have found out first-hand. Therefore my first course of action is to try and surprise them so they don't even have the time to fight back. Lacking that, I will not attack them until I am sure that I have trapped them as best as humanly possible before making a move. I do not intend to let one of them get away; we mustn't leave any witnesses if we are to get out of here alive."  
  
Cendan nodded slightly, but didn't say anything. It wasn't his place to criticise his superior, besides, he did like the plan, especially the "getting out of here alive"-part. He and everyone else here knew what had happened to the men who had survived the fight on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain about two months ago. Their liege wouldn't care at all if all of them were killed by the Wood-elves, but it was rather nice knowing that your captain planned not to let that happen until it was entirely unavoidable.  
  
Before either of them could say something else, low, murmuring sounds could be heard to the right of them, the equivalent of what otherwise would have been a loud and vociferous greeting. Loud and vociferous greetings, however, fell under the category of lighting torches and fires, and so none of the men felt overly much tempted to use one.  
  
After waiting a few seconds, Reran turned with a small, inward sigh. On the other side of the little clearing which didn't measure much more than thirty feet in diameter three men had appeared and were right now busy pushing through the closely packed men to reach Reran's and Cendan's position.  
  
The blonde commander forced his face into an emotionless façade, which was hard even for him who had worked for their lord for more than thirty years. The smug look of complacency and arrogance that Teonvan, obviously the leader of the three, wore, however, did make that endeavour even harder.  
  
After a few seconds, the others had reached the two men, and the dark haired human gave Reran a respectful bow, leaving it to the other man to figure out whether or not it had been meant seriously.  
"Sir. We found them."  
  
'Finally!' a part of Reran's mind commented. 'Straight to the point; at least he is sparing you having to drag every single word out of him this time.'   
"Where and how many?" the captain asked curtly.  
  
A small flicker of what might have been annoyance swept over the other's face, hidden so quickly that it was hard to determine if it had been there in the first place.  
  
"About three-quarters of an hour from here to the south-east, sir," Teonvan answered respectfully. "We didn't approach them, but we think there are no more than three."  
  
Suppressing a smile, Reran nodded at his second-in-command, deciding with a heavy heart to give him some credit for his work.  
"Well done, Teonvan," he told the other man whose grin only seemed to widen at that. "Well done indeed."  
  
Ignoring the other's smug smile, he motioned the other two men to leave them and nodded at both Teonvan and Cendan when they were alone.  
"Listen closely now, for I do not intend to repeat myself. We will divide the men into three groups and approach their position from the east, south-east and north-west. No-one is to come closer to them than a five-minute-distance; those who do not obey this I will kill myself, that I promise you."   
  
He gave Teonvan a hard look who quickly dropped his eyes, matted brown hair falling forward to conceal yellowish cheeks.  
  
"I do not care in the slightest what you think of this plan or the Elves in general; no-one is to attack them before I give the signal. Keep your men under control and impress upon them the importance of following our orders, as hard as it may appear on first glance. Understood?"  
  
When both of them nodded soundlessly, he narrowed his eyes, looking at both of them with barely concealed urgency in his eyes.  
"We don't have time for a second shot at this. If we don't succeed, we won't get out of this wood alive; it's as simple as that. And even if we did, I don't have to remind you of the fate of Adruran's men, do I?"  
  
This time, a pair of mute head shakes was the only answer, and so Reran nodded grimly.  
"I thought so. Get your men ready to travel; we will leave as soon as you're ready."  
  
Both gave him a quick nod and turned simultaneously on their heels, their animosity forgotten for the moment. After a few moments, the horses were being readied which were standing huddled together at the far side of the clearing, looking even more displeased than the humans about all this, and only five minutes later the men had been separated into three groups and were ready to depart.  
  
Reran remained where he was, watching the first group leave the glade, led by Teonvan and the two lieutenants he had brought with him. Five minutes after them, Cendan's groups would leave and five minutes later the last one under his command. The slowly departing figures of the eight men were quickly swallowed up by the white mass of the snow that still swirled around the dark, gnarly trunks of the trees, and the captain stared after them, running a hand through his greying hair that was right now coated with a nearly two-inch-thick layer of snow.  
  
After a few more moments during which the second group made the last preparations for leaving themselves, he finally turned around and slowly walked over to his horse that was still waiting at the other side of the clearing, shaking his head. He was nearly certain that Teonvan hadn't really heard a single word he'd said and wouldn't learn either until an elf slit his throat, a prospect he was prepared to greet with the utmost composure and indifference.  
  
He shook his head again when he reached his horse, making sure that he himself could leave in the next five minutes. He didn't care in the slightest if Teonvan got himself killed; he was even willing to pay an elf for doing it if he had to. If that foolish man took his, Reran's, men with him, however, it was another thing entirely, and not something he was prepared to tolerate.  
  
No, he thought with a dark frown, this whole thing would be a lot more messy and dangerous than he had hoped; he was as convinced about it as if it had been written in the snow in front of his feet. He had never had the misfortune of having to fight an elf, and that was a fact he wouldn't have wanted to change had it been up to him – which it was not, of course.  
  
Reran began to lead his horse over to the others with a small sigh, slowly beginning to understand that their liege's plan was a really, really bad one indeed and that they could consider themselves lucky if even half of them left this accursed forest alive.  
  
  
  
  
Around, and around, and around again.   
  
Galalith resisted the urge to clamp his eyes shut in an attempt to fight off the nausea that was beginning to take up residence in his stomach. The dark haired elf shook his head slowly as he watched Anardir complete yet another circle round the tree trunk, lightly hopping from branch to branch in an easy, inborn fashion that could have made one forget that they were in fact several dozen feet above the ground.  
  
Under any other circumstances, Galalith might have complemented his friend – even if only inwardly – for his aptitude in the trees, but right now he found it very hard not to do something drastic to him that would bring him at least some resemblance of peace and quiet. The day was beautiful in his opinion; ever since he had been an elfling he had enjoyed snow like nothing else, and to watch the thick flakes float towards the ground was something that would have filled him with a quiet happiness and contentment – if not for Anardir's incessant pacing.  
  
Elves did usually not pace; it was an activity reserved for the younger and more impatient races, and slowly but surely Galalith was not only getting very annoyed, but also slightly worried about his friend.  
  
The elf pushed a reddish-brown strand of hair behind his ear and watched Anardir circle the trunk once again before he sat up on the branch he was occupying, his patience finally, after more than five hours, spent.  
  
"Sit down," he commanded curtly, fingering his bow in a fashion that could only be described as threatening. "For Eru's sake, Anardir, sit down or I will not be held responsible for my actions."  
  
The blonde elf stopped where he was just about to hop onto another branch a few feet above the one he was standing on, for the first time actually noticing that his friend was, after all, also sitting in this tree he was occupying at the moment.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
Galalith sighed and pointed at a spot where two thick branches met, forming a comfortable perch high above the snow-covered ground.  
"Sit down, my friend, please. You are driving me insane with that continuous pacing! Even the tree is starting to complain, and if you don't stop it soon, it will surely shake both of us out of its branches."  
  
"Sit?" Anardir questioned, looking very much as if he wanted nothing more than to wave his arms in agitation. "You want me to sit??"  
  
"Yes," the other elf nodded patiently. "I want you to sit before I have to break your legs and force you to."  
  
His friend's apparent calmness only served to incite the golden haired elf's temper even more.  
"You want me to sit down? Our patrol has been attacked by wargs and two of our group have been injured and you want me to sit down??"  
  
With patience he didn't know he possessed, Galalith forced himself to smile at the other and repeat himself yet again.  
"Yes," he said, reached out quickly and managed to grab a brown shirtsleeve. Yanking hard on it, he brought his friend down onto the dark bark of the tree, ignoring the equally dark glare Anardir gave him. "It won't change anything if you continue driving me and this poor tree to madness. Sit down and calm yourself; I am sure that the others will be fine."  
  
For a moment, Anardir stared at the dark haired elf, only to relent after a few more moments when his brain informed him just how immature he was behaving.  
"You are right, _mellon nín_, I am sorry," he finally apologised. "The past few months have been … stressful, that is all."  
  
"I know," Galalith nodded sympathetically, enormously relieved that Anardir was finally staying in one spot. "It was the right decision to leave the palace again. I dare not even think of what the prince, Lord Celylith and Strider have managed to do already."  
  
"You are not the only one," Anardir commented darkly. "I will never forget the looks Lord Celythramir and the king gave me when we returned with both of them unconscious four days ago."  
  
Unable to help himself, Galalith began to snicker softly and couldn't even stop when Anardir gave him a look as dark as Mirkwood at night.  
"I am sorry, my friend," he finally managed to gasp, "I really am, but … a … a _branch_, in Elbereth's name! How do they do it, I ask you?! How?"  
  
"It was not funny," Anardir insisted stiffly. "When we reached that accursed tree, I was firmly convinced that both of them were dead, and the Valar know that they almost did die."  
  
"Yes," Galalith nodded, working hard to regain control over his features. "Don't worry," he repeated, wisely deciding to change the topic, "the others will be fine. The wounds are not too serious, and I am sure they will reach the palace this afternoon. There are no more wargs in the vicinity, and the two or three that managed to get away have shown no signs of returning. They will be just fine."  
  
Anardir forced himself to nod as well. He had sent a third warrior with the other two, not willing to let the two injured elves travel through the forest alone. Even if they were attacked, which he seriously doubted, they would be more than capable of defending themselves, because Galalith was right: The wounds were not too bad, merely deep gashes and perhaps a broken arm. Still, warg bites were notorious for becoming infected, and would be feeling a lot better knowing that his men were getting all the help and care they could possibly need once they got back to the palace.   
  
The warriors he had asked for should arrive tomorrow to reinforce them, therefore making sure that their patrol was once again back to the required strength, and so it was indeed true: Everything would be alright. Then why, he thought darkly, did he have this horrible feeling of impending doom? If he had learned one thing in the past, it was that he could always trust these feelings, and today it was exceptionally strong. Anardir had to stop himself from getting up and fidgeting again. He was not having a good feeling about this, no, not a good feeling at all…  
  
Galalith had noticed his friend's edginess – when sitting together on the same branch it was rather hard to miss – and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, something he did far too often these past few years anyway. If he didn't take care, they would come loose and drop into his lap one of these days, a prospect that was both macabre and frightening in his opinion.   
  
"Come now," he said with an amused sparkle in his eyes, "Are you still upset about the bet? Lord Celylith was right, you know, you owe him quite a lot…"  
  
"He was not!" Anardir protested, giving his childhood friend an outraged look. "This was nothing that could be described as 'natural causes'!"  
  
"Well, it _was _a tree."  
  
"It was general stupidity and recklessness, that's what it was!" Anardir shook his head. "'Natural causes' has another meaning entirely!"  
  
"Not really," Galalith retorted, the amusement he felt manifesting itself in a broad grin he was unable to hide anymore. "Everyone agrees that he won fair and square. Because none of us thought to bet on natural causes, the pool is his, which is really a shame since there is that rather nice dagger in it that belongs to one of the palace guards." He shook his head, green eyes shining with mock pity. "He really betted on a spider attack, that poor elf. Everybody knows how seldom they leave their lairs at this time of year; honestly, I don't know what he was thinking…"  
  
"Well," Anardir injected, a nasty smile on his face, "_You _betted on a hunting accident, didn't you?"  
  
"It nearly was one!" Galalith protested, eyes flashing. "No matter how you see it, anything was more likely than _your _prediction, dear friend…"  
  
Anardir snorted and would have said something when both of them froze, their keen senses informing them that something, or someone, was nearing their position. Their playful bantering forgotten, both traded a short look and quickly began to move down the leafless branches of the tree, stopping when they had reached positions that offered a certain cover and at the same time a free line of fire onto the path that wound around the dark trunk of the tree they were occupying.  
  
Both elves had soundlessly reached for their bows and notched arrows, just for the – rather likely – case that their visitor, was not friend, but foe. There was the possibility after all that the wargs were returning, and neither of the two had any desire whatsoever to be caught on the ground like yesterday evening, when they hadn't been able to retreat to the treetops before the foul beasts had been upon them.  
  
Anardir gripped the smooth, comforting wood of the bow tightly, wondering for the umpteenth time in the past few months what he had done to the Valar to deserve this. He wasn't even a Noldo, it couldn't be some sort of punishment for the deeds of his people, could it? While he was still contemplating what he could possibly have done wrong in his more than two millennia of living – right now, nothing of the required severity came to mind – a horse became visible through the swirling snow that seemed to be everywhere, nearly melting into its surroundings due to its white coat.  
  
The rider guided the animal around a snow drift that had accumulated next to a tree, already reaching about to a grown elf's chest level, before he stopped, his hands reaching up to throw back the dark green cloak that obscured his features. In an instant, the hood was removed, exposing a fair face with long blonde hair to the swirling snow masses.  
  
Anardir felt the strong urge to close his eyes while the figure beneath them began to scan the dark, leafless trees that were obscured by snow and ice. This was just his kind of luck, it had to be him, hadn't it…  
The golden haired elf's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Elvish words, being called by a musical voice he knew only to well. A Elbereth, why him?  
_  
"Maethyr o Thaur-nu-Fuin!"_  
  
The woods remained quiet and still though, and so the fair haired figure added with an amusedly raised eyebrow,_  
  
"Ú-dhelio le o chin nín!"_  
  
Trading a slightly long-suffering look, the two elves began to skilfully clamber down the tree they had been hiding in. It took them only a few seconds until their feet touched the ground soundlessly and they began to walk towards the horse whose rider had dismounted now, their feet leaving no trace on the ever-growing snow that hid the lands.  
  
"My lord," Anardir said respectfully while they gave their prince a small bow. "What an … unexpected … pleasure."  
  
Legolas couldn't quite hide the grin that laid itself over his features.  
"It is good to see you too, my friends. You disappeared from the palace so quickly that I couldn't even say goodbye or thank you for all what you have done for Estel and me."  
  
The sour expression on the others' faces clearly stated that they considered it a sacrifice well worth it if they had been able to escape the palace as quickly as possible.  
  
"Warriors were needed for the patrols in the south, my lord, and we saw it necessary to volunteer," Galalith said softly, hiding a grin on his own. All three of them knew of course that Anardir and he had only left the King's Halls to escape the trouble that inevitably followed Legolas and his young ranger friend, but all of them knew as well that they would never voice that fact.  
  
"I can see that," the fair haired prince nodded, the mirth on his face quickly disappearing when he eyed the two other elves whose clothing was still stained with both dark and red blood. "I met the other three about two hours from here. Are you alright?"  
  
"We are, my lord," Anardir assured the prince, the feelings of unease and impending doom only multiplying. Now he knew at least why he was having these feelings: The reason was standing right in front of him. "How are they?"  
  
The smile on Legolas' face reappeared as he looked at the two elven warriors reassuringly.  
"They will be alright, I believe. Since they don't have horses they will arrive at the palace in the evening, but they have time. The gashes looked deep and ugly, yes, but I do not think they are badly infected. And I don't think that the lad's arm is broken either."  
  
Galalith returned Legolas' smile, giving an unconscious sigh of relief. The youngest member of the troupe had been pinned to the ground by two dead wargs for the main part of the short, but fierce battle, and they hadn't been sure whether or not his arm had been broken. It had been the young one's first patrol, and it had been obvious that he had been in a lot of pain even though he had been trying to hide it. The dark haired elf shook his head. He was an elfling, nothing more really, and shouldn't even be here…  
  
"Thank the Valar," he said out aloud. "He was very concerned about not being able to use his arm. He's an elfling, really, and is mortally afraid of Hithrawyn, like every sensible person, by the way."  
  
The fair haired prince's smile seemed to freeze a little, and Galalith realised a little too late what he had said, making the dark haired elf want to hit his head against something hard and solid.  
  
"He would be," Legolas said softly. "Not being able to shoot properly for several weeks must be unimaginable for one so young."  
  
Anardir glared at his friend who had dropped his eyes to the ground and was studying his snow-dusted boot tips with fascination. How could anyone be so stupid? He quickly searched for something, _anything, _to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them, and finally asked,  
  
"Why have you come here then, my lord? Did you come alone?"  
  
At the sight of Anardir peering anxiously over his shoulder as if expecting Aragorn and/or Celylith to burst through the trees, Legolas' face brightened again, and he laughed lightly and shook his head.  
"Yes, Anardir, I came alone. Captain Celylith is delivering an important message to Beorn, and Strider is not yet well enough to travel. Humans are very fragile sometimes, it appears."  
  
"What about you, your Highness?" Galalith asked softly. "I appear to remember some injuries you suffered yourself."  
  
Legolas grimaced slightly, looking down at his arm that was covered in several layers of cloth.  
"I'm alright, my friend, thank you for your concern. Hithrawyn took off the bandages and reassured me that I would live." The others' faces relaxed with relief, and he added playfully, "Even though I have to say that he looked rather disappointed when he said it."  
  
"I can very well imagine that," Anardir nodded. "When we arrived at the palace, he appeared none too happy to see any of us."  
  
"That has not changed, I can assure you," Legolas said with a smile. "And to answer your other question: I came to check on the patrols. The king demands an update on the situation which has been disconcertingly quiet of late, and I thought it best to come and see for myself. And, as it appears, things are not as quiet as they appeared to be, would you not agree?"  
  
Anardir shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.  
"Everything is quiet here, my lord, truly. The pack from yesterday was starving and desperate, otherwise they would never have attacked. They showed no signs of organised behaviour, and there are no orcs or goblins near as far as we can tell. In that case they would probably have been stopped by the western patrols anyway."  
  
"Where is the next patrol positioned?" Legolas asked.  
  
"To the west, my lord, about five hours by horse; seven warriors under the command of Master Legandir's son."  
  
"Anondil," Legolas nodded. He remembered the young elf who looked very much like his father, who was a famous armourer. Legolas' own bow had been made by him, even though Aragorn had needed about six weeks to convince the elf to even consider making it for him. "He's a little bit younger than we, is he not?"  
  
"Aye, my lord, he is," Galalith nodded. He knew Anondil as well; incidentally he was one of the young warriors who had betted on an orc attack. He had a rather good memory for things like that. "He will turn 1728 in a few years, I believe."  
  
The fair haired prince nodded with a small smile. Somehow he always thought that this sounded ridiculous and rather random when counting in human years. The firstborn preferred to count in sixes and twelves, and their more common unit of time was a _yén_. Young Anondil would reach an important age soon indeed, for 1728 years were twelve times 144 years which in term were a period of twelve times twelve years. So the young elf would turn twelve _yéni _soon, an occurrence that always called for a great celebration.   
  
"I trust he is already planning how to celebrate it?" he asked, remembering how excited he himself had been all these years ago when he had turned 1728.  
  
"Oh yes," Anardir nodded. "He hardly speaks of anything else. He plans to marry on the same day."  
  
"Does he now?" Legolas asked, very much interested now. "Who is the maiden who is to become his wife then?"  
  
"The Lady Isáviel," Galalith answered with a small smile. "He asked her father for her hand in marriage, and he agreed, as did she. Her whole family is probably already making a list of all the weapons they want to have once the two of them are married."  
  
For the second time in a few minutes, Legolas' smile seemed to freeze. A small voice inside his head found the whole situation impossibly amusing, but the rest of him didn't agree in the slightest. It had to be Isáviel, hadn't it? He hadn't only climbed into the room of an elf maid, no, he had climbed into the room of a betrothed, soon-to-be-married elf maid whose fiancée was known to be extraordinarily jealous for one of their kind. Suddenly, he thought darkly, the idea of accompanying Aragorn to Rivendell had become incredibly attractive…  
  
"My lord?" Anardir asked with a raised eyebrow, "Is something the matter? You appear … pale all of the sudden…"  
  
"I'm fine," Legolas shook his head quickly. "Nothing is the matter, I was merely…"  
  
He trailed off and frowned, his senses suddenly reaching a level of extreme alarm. One of his hands was already moving to the quiver on his back, gripping a dagger tightly before he had even begun to turn around. Both Anardir and Galalith seemed to sense it as well, whatever _it _might be, for they had also fallen silent and had readied their bows again, and soon three pairs of keen elven eyes were scanning the trees all around them.  
  
"The wargs?" Galalith asked in a low tone of voice. "Could they have returned?"  
  
"Nay, it's not wargs," Legolas retorted, nervousness beginning to creep up on him. "It feels … different, somehow, not as mindlessly evil…"  
  
"Whatever it is," Anardir remarked, eyes darting nervously from left to right, "It is clever. We are surrounded."  
  
Legolas frowned, but soon found that the blonde elf was correct. Whatever it was that was nearing their position, it was all around them, quickly coming closer and closing in on them.  
  
"You are right," he said, his hand tightening on the dagger's carved hilt, "And whatever they are, they are many. We should retreat into the trees."  
  
The other two nodded soundlessly, obeying his command without question as they began to turn around, into the direction of the tree that had given them shelter in the night before, when they had thought that the wargs might return.  
  
Only a fraction of a second later, Legolas turned around to follow them, but in the very moment he started to move, a small sound caused him to whirl around, and that was the moment he understood three things. First, that "they", whoever "they" may be, were already a lot closer than they had thought, second, that they would never make it back to the tree, and third, that he had exactly half a second to get himself and the others out of the line of fire.   
  
With a cry he twisted back around and threw himself forward, crashing into the two elves in front of them. Half a second later the three of them lay in a tangle of legs and arms in the snow, and Legolas smiled despite the reawakened pain in his barely healed right arm as he heard the unmistakable, swishing sound of an arrow that flew over their heads and impacted with a tree with a sharp thud.  
  
The three young elves desperately struggled back to their feet, Anardir just managing to avoid another arrow that would nearly have imbedded itself in his back had he not sensed it and jumped aside at the last moment. Legolas looked around them with big, stunned blue eyes, noting how shapes were beginning to become visible through the dark trees and the swirling snow masses. Two … five … eight … fifteen … too many.  
  
"Into the trees, now!" he ordered, knowing in his heart that they would never make it that far before they would be completely surrounded, but on the other side he was highly unwilling to stay here to let themselves be shot. The others obeyed only too gladly and began to run lightly over to the nearest tree, dodging arrows as best as they could.  
  
They had nearly reached the nearest trunk when Legolas turned, only to see that the shadows had drawn a lot closer already and would be upon them in a matter of seconds, not minutes, when his senses that were already nearing a full-blown panic were sent into what one could only describe as an absolute frenzy.   
  
The fair haired elf's head whipped to the right where he simply knew was danger, but even as he threw himself to the side to dodge yet another projectile that would have hit him straight in the chest, he knew that he would not be fast enough to escape the second one he sensed somewhere behind him.  
  
The first arrow barely grazed his left arm, but Legolas ignored the searing pain that even the shallow wound brought and tried to turn, knowing in his heart that he would be too late. Time seemed to slow down until everything was moving at a fraction of its usual speed, and the elven prince could even see the arrow that moved towards him, cutting soundlessly through the air, just as soundlessly as everything else around him.   
  
Legolas was still turning, his mind screaming at him to move faster, to get out of the way, but just when he was beginning to accept the pointlessness of his actions, he heard an unarticulated shout and felt something slam into him, throwing him hard into the snow.  
  
Time seemed to regain its former speed, and Legolas came out of his temporary trance to the lingering echo of the scream that still vibrated through the cold air. It took him some breathless moments to understand that he hadn't been hit by the arrow as he had so firmly expected, and that the weight that pressed down on him was inconsistent with that version of events anyway.  
  
A horrible suspicion was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach, and he began to move, frantic to free himself of what was pinning him to the ground. At his movements, a soft moan could be heard, but the last proof he had needed he received when he heard a horrified, desperate cry that cut through the air like the steel of a blade.  
  
"Galalith!! No!!"  
  
Legolas managed to free himself from the weight that had trapped him, and pushed himself to his knees, only to lay eyes on a scene he had never wanted to witness in his entire life. In his back there was the dark trunk of a tree, the tree he had been trying to reach before he had fallen. To his left, right and in front of him figures in light-coloured cloaks were appearing, moving around the trees with a soundlessness that almost rivalled that of the Rangers. In the one corner of his vision, he could see Anardir, his face white and horrified, running back towards him, obviously not caring anymore if an arrow hit him or not. And just next to him lay the twisted body of Galalith, a brown-feathered arrow sticking out of the side of his stomach. Dark, red blood was beginning to pool underneath them, seeping into the churned up snow.  
  
The blonde prince stared at the body of the fallen elf with wide eyes, only slowly coming to terms with what had happened. O dear Elbereth, please no…  
  
A second later, Anardir fell heavily to his knees beside his friend, eyes desperately searching for a sign that the dark haired elf yet lived. Legolas had to force himself back to his feet, leaving it to Anardir to care for the other elf, because he knew full well that none of them would survive if he lost it now and did nothing.  
  
Then the white-clad figures reached them, and everything got beyond his control in a matter of seconds.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _mellon nín - my friend_  
_Maethyr o Thaur-nu-Fuin! - Warriors of Mirkwood!_  
_Ú-dhelio le o chin nín - Do not conceal yourselves from my eyes  
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years  
yéni (pl.) - yéni, plural of yén  
  
  
  
  
_**Yes, I DO realise that I just made myself very unpopular. I'm getting used to it really... At least this time the CLF isn't after me, that's a relief... So, I hope to be able to post the next chapter on Monday, but since Christmas (which is celebrated on the 24th here) is drawing ever closer it is possible that it'll be Tuesday. I promise an update before Wednesday though. You know, reviews help me to update faster yadda yadda yadda. *g*  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Amelie** - *interested* So, what's the answer to my story? *reads* Uhm, WHO should turn against Celylith? Beorn and his dogs? To be honest, that would be a No ... Glónduil will show up, that's another No, or at least a Very Unlikely ... and how should Legolas show up when he's captured? *grins* Well, let's just say that I have planned it a TINY BIT differently... Oh, I see. Geoge the fell beast and Fed the warg - very clever! *shakes hand* Good thinking!  
**Aratfeniel** - *g* Yeah, that's a rather accurate prediction - we all know that Legolas just HAS to get into some trouble, right? And I'll admit that that was a rather random outburst indeed. I'm not quite sure if I should be scared or amused. *g*  
**Halo** - Well, I DO update! And oh so far more frequently than another person whom I will not name right now! *coughsHalocoughs* Yeah, they had a big premiere party here in my city too. Viggo Mortensen was here, and all the hobbits, and Ian Mckellen, and Lv Tyler. Oh, and Peter Jackson of course. I think that was it. I didn't go there though, you know me, I'm not quite as crazy as you about all that. But Viggo Mortensen wore a green shirt and a green blazer that were simply horrible. I mean horrible. He looked appaling, really. *sighs* He should wear long dark hair all the time. I'll get a law passed ordering him to. Don't ask me how. *g*  
**Tinlaure** - Yeah, they're your typical evil minions. I love them too. *huggles Reran* The evil lord ... hmm, to be honest, I'm not really sure. He might be in chpater 12 or 13, and a bit later a lot more. I haven't quite decided on that one yet. The review wasn't _that_ crazy. Just a little. Thanks for it!  
**Deana** - Hmm, kill Legolas? Well that is something that sounds like a rather good idea... Ahhh! *runs off to escape reviewer's wrath* J/k! Really! I didn't mean it! And yes, Legolas gets into trouble now - did anyone expecte something else? Nah, I didn't think so either. *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - LOL, that is a very flattering albeit rather scary fact. It's nice to hear that I'm apparently such a remarkable part of your lives - but it's still scary! *g* I see that you're waiting 'patiently', so I guess you don't mind if I go away and post later? Yes? No? Huh? *evil grin* Oh, I love being evil...  
**Maranwe1** - *bows* Thanks for pointing out that mistake. Plural/Singular things are one of the many things I'm still not sure about - in German that would have been singular, see? I never know when I have to use singular and when plural - very confusing, just like Latin and Greek grammar. Stupid comparison I guess... Yeah, Reran, I like him too. I don't know why, but he's huggable, somehow. And of course everyone else knows what's going to happen, but our dear elven prince is too stubborn to acknowledge the approaching doom. No-one ever said he was exceedingly clever, huh? I envy you, btw. It's great that your story moves along so well, but I seem to be stuck in chapter 11. I am tired of the whole thing lately, but if I would only find a way to get to chapter 12 everything would be back to normal, I just know it. I could jump straight from chapter 10 to 12, what do you think? *Maranwe shakes head* I didn't think so either... *sulks* Bloody chapter 11.  
**Gwyn** - Uhm ... Celylith doesn't get into trouble? The rest sounds about right though... *evil grin* I hadn't even realised that RotK would be coming out today, believe it or not. So I hadn't planned it, but I'm glad you liked it nonetheless. *g*  
**Calenore** - LOL, yes, I suppose so. It's a miracle that King Thranduil and Celythramir have actually made it through their childhood with their sanity more or less intact. I would have taken the ships to Valinor or would have sent them to Barad-dûr to annoy Sauron for a while. *thinks* Probably the latter since I'm evil. Whatever. Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Red Tigress** - Yup, there's some action in this chapter, even though there is a lot more in chapter 8. And I'm glad you understand that the twins can't arrive for the next few chapters, but I can already say that their entrance won't be very timely. *pats their heads* Poor elflings, always a tiny bit too late.  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Oh, go on and kill FF.net, I'm right behind you. I hate that site, and it hates me right back, I swear... Sometimes it helps though to add an "a" or "a/" after the link you wish to see, that way you can sometimes access documents that are not yet visible. And OF COURSE you didn't throw a fit, we know that's something _you_ would never do... So you like a depressed Aragorn? Never fear, you should enjoy the next chapters then... *evil grin* And yes, that was indeed Aragorn's Númenórean foresight, we'll see even more of it a little later. It comes in handy, doesn't it? I hope the essay wasn't too bad!   
**Firnsarnien** - Hmm, when is Legolas going to learn to listen to his friends? What about ... hmmm, never? *g* He's too stupid and stubborn to learn something as simple as that. *shrugs* Sad, I know, but true nonetheless. *hurt look* So you don't like Teonvan? I DO like him, really, even though the more I write him I'm beginning to feel that vague feeling of contempt and loathing. I dunno why either. *g* Yup, chapter 8 is more angsty than anything I have written for a long time, I'll give you that. The twins will be here eventually, but you'll still have to wait a little, sorry. And don't worry about Celylith, he's safe for the next chapters. I promise.  
**Halfling** - Nope, you're right. He's not stupid enough to get captured by mere humans, nah ... *shakes head* Not Legolas, certainly... I know what you mean. Legolas' love for his weapons is mainly funny, of course, but also a little bit tragic. If you don't know how to defend yourself or are unarmed, you won't get very far in Mirkwood, that's true. Poor elfsies, all of them. *g*  
**Leggylover03** - Oh, I'm SURE you await the pain's arrival. I would have been very much surprised if you hadn't, to be honest! *g* But there won't be any Aragorn pain for a few chapters yet - lots of angst though, I hope that's acceptable? *shakes head* I don't know why I'm even asking...  
**Jenny** - LOL, I guess that's a way to see it too. Poor baddies who have to capture Legolas, indeed. And what happened to Adruran? Oh, nothing specific yet. He just left, and his people at home think he's dead which is exactly the way he wanted it. He might make an appearance in a later chapter, but not in this story. Sorry.  
**Strider's Girl** - Well, to be precise it's Aragorn and Legolas who don't feel too hostile towards Glónduil; Celylith is rather angry though. The whole betraying-Legolas'-trust-thing, you know ... stubborn wood-elf, that one. It's very nice to hear that you like the friendship between Celylith and Legolas, creating popular OCs is always quite hard. And as I said in the A/N: I don't want to hear a single comment about RotK. Really, I mean it. Not a word. *mock glare*  
**Conn JS1** - *blushes* Jeez - thank you! It's very nice to hear that you're enjoying this so much. I just figured that you don't just say "Oh, my life-long friend betrayed me and my best friend. Tough luck. Let's get on with our lives, shall we?" *snickers* Well, I would definitely not do that... Hmm, Celylith is pronounced [kəlyliθ], just the way it is spelled, with a 'K', like all Sindarin words with 'C'. You might be right, btw, perhaps I _am_ overdoing the whole Hithrawyn matter a little. He won't be in many chapters after this one anyway, but I'll think about it. I hope that you'll understand a little bit better why Legolas decided to leave Mirkwood after this chapter, but essentially I think it is _because_ he feels useless and unsure about his ability to defend himself. Hope that made any sense... *g* Probably not.  
**Alilacia** - Oh, don't worry, that one part was meant to be amusing. So go on, laugh, no-one will mind. Hmm, on second thought, Legolas might... *g* Wow, how did you convince Frodo to lend you Sting? I've always loved that sword - even though I love Idhril's now, you know, the one Arwen has in the movie. I would definitely take that one... *dreamily* And yes, I guess you could say "Poor Legolas/Aragorn/Elladan/Elrohir/Celylith/Glorfindel" later. Oh yes, definitely. *evil grin*  
**Zinnith** - LOL, yes, the frightful words of doom indeed... And the answer is: No, they don't learn. They're too thick-headed for that. *gives weird look* Yeah, I guess Reran and Cendan would have been a single big snowball - that's a rather interesting mental picture, actually... So your purple boots have feelings? I know, objects DO have feelings. I mean, my computer most definitely has - he hates me. Oh, and I know what you mean. Just wait till next chapter and you'll see...  
**Marbienl** - To be honest, I am very sure that Beorn lives on the western edge of Mirkwood. Remember, Bilbo and the dwarves met him when they came down the mountains and then continued on the Old Forest Road. Look it up if you want to, definitely the western edge. I don't really know how much longer they will remain angry with Glónduil; a while I would say. And considering that elves are immortal... *g* And yes, I meant the dreams in THOM. Sorry to disappoint you... LOL, you're right, we shold start a new betting pool. We'd be millionaires in a matter of minutes. *cackles some more* Indeed, I stole Frór back! He's mine!!!!   
**LOTRFaith** - Yeah, one should think he would have learned by now, but that's apparently not so. Legolas is kinda stupid, I guess... *g* And don't worry, find in what kind of trouble they get this time you shall! Soon! Like: This chapter, next chapter, the chapter after that! *g* Yeah, sounds about right...  
**Sirithiliel** - Indeed, will Legolas meet up with the men? Well, what do you think, it's _Legolas_ we're talking about... Of course he will, stubborn wood-elf that he is. *shakes head* Reckless and stubborn idiot. *g*  
**Shauna** - Tying yourself to the chair sounds like a very sensible thing to do. Rather drastic, but sensible. And you're right: Legolas should indeed have read the summary! That would have spared him a lot of trouble I guess...Well, I'm really sorry, but he HAS to go now. He's been happy long enough now. And don't worry, they'll have time to be happy later ... well, much later I guess... I hope you're not too unhappy that the capture is finally underway? Thanks for the review!  
**Elenora1** - See, you're a _responsible_reader. There are not too many out there, mind you... *g* I loke your response though. Aarrrggghhh sounds very interesting, to say the least. *g* Guilty as charged, I wrote that last chapter just to torment you. Yup. You got me. *blushes* That sentence sounded professional? Really? To be honest, I always have to stop myself to write like that too much, I always think it's too ... lofty, somehow. But I tend to use such sentences at the beginning and end of chapters/paragraphs, I'll freely admit that. Just like the last sentence in chapter 8 about which I won't talk right now. You'll see what I mean. Vignettes? Huh?  
**Asha Dreamweaver** - Yes of course Hithrawyn is evil! Mind you, I would react just like him were I unlucky enough to be Aragorn's healer! *g* And I can't tell you what the baddies are up to now - read on and it should become clearer - a little at least. *g* A tiny little, I guess.  
**Nikara** - *grins evilly* Yup, he is getting into a lot of trouble, stupid elf that he is. We all know that, why doesn't he? Great to hear that you still like the story, I hope you'll like this chapter as well! *huggles*   
**Sabercrazy** - Uhm - thanks for the confetti I guess. Thanks. *gives weird looks* I knew you would like that music! Then again, who doesn't? *evil grin* Legolas and Aragorn, probably... And you might be right about the waiting part. We all know him rather well by now, don't we? Stubborn, idiotic ranger. *g*  
**Silvertoekee** - Once again I have to say that you're right. They always get into a lot of trouble, whether they're together or not. Must be a curse or something... *g* Still, good predictions on your part. *g* Well done.  
**Louise_Oblique** - A Merry Christmas to you too! Don't worry though, there'll be another chapter before that - not that you guys will be so happy about it, mark my words... Thanks for all your reviews, btw! They do encourage me a lot!  
**Firniswin** - Yeah, I know. Then I didn't realise it, of coure, believe me or not. I hadn't truly realised that today is the day RotK comes out. *shrugs* Hard to believe, I know. And yes, the orcs from Mississippi are something that sound rather a lot like fever and delirium. And don't worry, I'll write more, even though I'm quite busy at the moment - it's Christmas time for crying out loud! Who isn't!?   
**Chrystal-Rose15** - Great I could make you happy! It's always nice to hear that people enjoy my weird little stories... And a _mourning_ CLF is the least of my worries, believe me. I'm much more concerned about a murderous CLF, actually... *g* Rashwe is actually based on my sister's horse. It hates me and is evil, trust me. In comparison with hers Rashwe is a little angel. And if you rally want to know, the twins won't be here till chapter 11 or 12. *runs off to escape her wrath*  
**Starlight** - Och, dafuer musst du dich bei MIR ganz sicher nicht entschuldigen. Ich kenn das, und ich schwoere, dass ich der ganz persoenliche Intimfeind der Telekom bin... Das mit Rashwe koennte auch stimmen, uebrigens. Das Pferd meiner Schwester war das Vorbild, und es ist mindestens ebenso fies! Allein die Vorstellung von vielen kleinen Mini-Rashwes laesst es mir allerdings kalt den Ruecken runterlaufen... *g*  
**Cara** - Yes, this chapter's the chapter in which Legolas gets captured, this one and the next to be precise. Your prayers seem to have worked; everything is fine up until now! A miracle! Thanks a lot!! *huggles*  
**Suzi9** - Uhm, the answer to that would be: Never. They will never learn, sorry. Must be genetic, really... *g* Who, me? Stubborn? I have not the slightest idea what you're talking about... Pain killers, coke and cookies? Sounds yummy if you ask me - then again, I AM insane... It's great to hear that you still enjoy my fics, but don't say anything against Scotland! I LOVE Scotland - including the constant drizzle, mist and other things. I simply love it, even though I've been there just once a year ago. I truly envy you! Whoa! _Who_ said I didn't like long reviews! I want him caught and shot! I LOVE long reviews! Great I could help with Nero, and huggle your dragon from me! They're adorable, aren't they?   
**Critternut** - Yeah, foreshadowing all around, I guess! *g* And I don't KNOW yet if I will do anything to the leg, to be honest I am right know tending not to. I don't like leg injuries - not at this point, anyway... Sorry. I don't know yet if Glónduil will be in here, once again I don't think so. He might, but I think he would unnecessarily complicate things. I know these cardboard figures, btw, they're creepy! I would burn it if I were you! I mean it; I hate them! *g*  
**Mystic Girl1** - Frag mich bitte nicht warum, aber ueber "Erklaer-Baer" hab ich mich totgelacht. Ich fand's tierisch komisch irgendwie - sag's mir nicht, ich bin irre. *g* LOL, ich wuerde wirklich nicht versuchen, Rashwe zu umarmen ... das Viech ist boese. Richtig boese, ich mein' das ernst... Und keine Sorge, das Pferd meiner Schwester ist genau wie Rashwe. Ist quasi sein Vorbild; ich weiss genau, was du meinst. *beleidigt* Ich habe gar nicht vor, ihnen irgendwas zu tun! Ehrlich! *g*  
**Shanna** - Hola yourself! Thanks a lot for the compliments - they're not too good for my ego, but nice to hera nonetheless! Thanks a lot for reviewing, they really help and encourage me a lot!  
**Bailey** - You're evil and weird, did I ever tell you that? I guess I did... *g* Don't worry, Celylith will be in this fic. Not all the time, but more than enough, never fear. *g* And nooo, I didn't get him out of the way in order to be able to injure and hurt Aragorn and Legolas! Whatever gave you that idea? *looks innocently* And yeah, I guess that's about what will happen. Sounds about right, yes. *evil grin* Thanks for all your reviews!  
**Fliewatuet** - YOU!!! *huggles* It's great to see that you're still with us - I was beginning to miss you! It's SO nice to hear that you haven't decided that you needed something more intelligent to read (wouldn't really have surprised me, to be honest *g*)! And I absolutely agree with you: Legolas and Aragorn are enough to drive _anyone_ insane. Thranduil and Hithrawyn never stood a chance. And you really didn't peek? Impressive... *grins and huggles again* Thanks for reviewing again!  
**Cicci** - Me too. I've always like the baddies more than the good guys - most of the time they're so bloody ... well, good! It's highly infurianting! Great you liked mine though; thanks a lot! And stupid isn't strong enough a word for Legolas, and neither is foolish. I'll have to think of a new one. *g*  
**Zam** - Lucky you. Christmas vacation sound very nice. *sighs* Well, only two more days here as well. LOL, yeah, I forgot you still had Glónduil's clothes. I really think you should give them back now - that can't be healthy even for an elf... *shakes head* Poor Glónduil... Don't worry, you're not pathetic. I know you have better things to do than to review. *sniffs* I don't mind. Go and have fun. *g* J/k, really.  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - I know, I know. The thing is, I have an inspiration of sort, but I have to look up quite a few things for it so I'm not too keen on getting started... *smiles sheepishly* I'm pathetic, don't tell me. *g*  
**Carla** - Tja, das mit den Zwillingen ist so 'ne Sache ... ich glaube, dass Legolas ganz andere Problem bekommen wird, ehrlich... Ist doch schoen zu hoeren, dass du es spannend findest - das ist genau der Sinn der Sache! *g* Schweig ueber RotK! Ich will davon nichts hoeren! *g*  
**Alexa** - Uhm, yeah ... he kinda is, isn't he? Poor Legolas... *pats his head* I'm sorry, but there'll be no Gandalf in this story. Most of it takes place in the East, and Gandalf himself said in TTT that he doesn't go there. I mean the book of course. LOL, I'm glad to hear that you like the 'arm-angst'. Nice term, btw. LOL again, realism is good-writing-ism? There's nothing you can say against that, really... *g***  
Dha-Gal** - I'm not nearly as threatening as Elrond, but it was a nice thing to say nonetheless. Thank you! Thanks for the Skittles too, I really love them. Hmm, I guess I had mentioned that before, but well. *g* And you would sick Elrond on me? You realise that I would have to stop updatin in that case, right? *g*   
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Yeah, me too. I'm always overweight - when I fly somewhere, I mean... *g* It's great to hear that you liked the conversation between Celylith and Legolas, even though the first should definitely listen to his forbidings, you're right there. But these stubborn elves never listen, do they? *shakes head* No, they don't... LOL, Teonvan is a psychopath? I guess you could say that - and to make things worse, he's a MEAN psychopath as well... *evil grin* Well, 'The Abduction' is here! Yay! *g*  
  
**Remember: No RotK comments! Comments = Teonvan + nice little conversation. *g* Thanks for all the reviews, as always!**  
  
  
  



	8. Risked And Lost

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Well, I'm sorry I couldn't update yesterday, but I somehow seem to be caught in a vicious circle of remembering and shopping: I go shopping, suddenly remember all the people I have to give something and shop some more. When I have bought the last thing, I remember that one person that is allegedly remotely related to me and... You get the point, right? *g*  
  
I also saw RotK on Sunday and - well. I'm not really sure if I like the movie to be perfectly honest, I think they cut out too much. I do realise that they had to if they didn't want to end up with a 6-hour-version, but still.   
  
(*Spoiler Alert!!*) They cut out the entire Grey Company, most of the palantír scenes, all about the healing of Éowyn, Faramir and Merry! *screeches* How could they!** **Well, I always need some time to come to terms with what they've done to the books, and I still liked the movie, even though I'm not entirely sure if it's really RotK, if you know what I mean. I think the thing that characterises the entire movie is what a friend of mine said** **after the Denethor-throws-himself-off-the-seventh-circle-thing (which, let's admit it, wasn't how it was in the book and was rather impossible, too): *especially dry, sarcastic voice* "Well, that was ... spectacular, I guess."**  
***shrugs* It was an enjoyable and _spectacular_ movie nonetheless, I think. *g***  
  
**Okay, enough of that. Since I seem to be unable to get that movie out of my head it has to be good, I guess. *g* I have to admit though that I am rather frightened by the prospect of you guys founding something like the IAF (Institute of Abused Firstborn) or SPIE (Society for the Protection of Innocent Elves) as Suzi9 proposed. Then again, you know how I enjoy death threats, so... *g*  
  
  
Be that as it may, here's the Christmas update! I still have loads to do in the next few days, but ah well... So, chapter 8 is here, with lots of Legolas action, Legolas angst, general elf angst, and even a little bit of Reran who is anything but happy right about now. I think that goes for most people at the moment - with the possible exception of Teonvan, of course... *evil grin*  
  
Have fun, Merry Christmas and review, please!**  
  
  
  


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Chapter 8  
  
  
Legolas' body twisted to the side to avoid a sword that would have skewered him where he stood, inwardly marvelling at his body's ability to function even though the greater part of his mind was caught in a dark, absolutely shocked state.  
  
The small, reasonable part of him that was seeing to his survival knew that he had been fighting only for a few moments, and it unfortunately also had begun to understand that this was a fight he couldn't possibly win. That fact, however, had not yet registered in his numbed brain, if it ever would at all.  
  
He hadn't expected something like this. None of them had. He hadn't counted on encountering anything more dangerous than perhaps, as a remote possibility, a pack of wargs or some stray orcs that had lost the rest of their horde and were too stupid to find the way back to their holes, but definitely nothing like _this_.  
  
What 'this' was, he wasn't even sure yet, he thought as his eyes spied an opening in the defence of the one he was just fighting, and without really thinking he moved forward and thrust his left dagger up, deeply into his opponent's side. With a detached, calm interest he watched how dark, definitely human blood welled up immediately, affirming that his attacker wouldn't survive for long now.  
  
So he had been right, Legolas thought, these were indeed men. Had he been in a calmer state of mind or not as shock-numbed, he would have noticed that fact a long time before now, but he had been far too busy staying on his feet and avoiding all the blades that seemed to be intent on gutting him or chopping off his head.  
  
How had a group of men managed to get so close without them really noticing? The snow must have hidden their movements, but still, they should have noticed something! What did they want? Why did they want to kill them? Who in the name of the One _were _they?  
  
With a quick shake of his head, the elven prince banished these thoughts from his mind and jumped to the side just in time to avoid being cut in two by the whistling blade of a broadsword that came disconcertingly close to actually hitting him. Legolas cursed inwardly and whirled on his heel, managing to free himself from the man who had nearly killed him only to come face to face with two new ones.  
  
Backing away slowly, Legolas took a few precious seconds to get his bearings. The little clearing which had looked peaceful and serene under the thick, fluffy mantle of freshly fallen snow had been changed beyond recognition. Behind him, he could sense more than see his two companions, and again Legolas could almost see the frantic movements with which Anardir tried to aid his friend. The prince knew that Galalith was in no condition to be of any help, and Anardir was probably far too worried to even think properly by now.  
  
When he thought of the dark haired elf at his back, a hot, burning fury began to spread in his chest, a fury that was beginning to drown out the small, frantically whispering part of him that was still capable of reasonable thought. How dare these humans simply shoot him? How dare they attack his father's warriors, how dare they set foot in their realm!  
  
These outraged thoughts were quickly replaced by guilt and an ever-growing fear. Galalith had saved him, he had intentionally placed himself between him and the arrow and had taken it for him, and the guilt that was growing inside of him quickly and steadily was now being dwarfed by fear, a fear that it would all have been in vain after all.  
  
Even though merely a few seconds had passed since the attack, the part of Legolas' mind that had been trained in warfare and fighting for more than two thousand years knew that he would lose; it was only a matter of time. He was loath to admit it, but no elf could fight off this many adversaries for long, especially not ones that were as good and disciplined fighters as these. He only needed to take on good look at the scene before him to know his fate as certainly as if it had been presented to him in a sealed document directly from Ilúvatar himself: If he didn't manage to get into the trees, he had about another two minutes before the men would overwhelm him.   
  
In front of him, two men moved forwards who had until now been held back by the elf's gleaming, silver knives that had kept any who felt the desire to step closer at bay, and Legolas gave yet another, inward and rather vicious curse that would have greatly shocked his father when he saw the reason for this: Behind the eight men in front of him several more could be seen, running up to them to reinforce their companions.  
  
The elven prince quickly moved backwards a few steps to avoid being caught between the two of them, mindful of the two elves that were still kneeling in the snow at his back, and before the man to his left could react or even ready his weapon, Legolas had moved next to him and had smashed his elbow into his face. The man stumbled back, holding his obviously broken nose, a sight that filled the blonde elf with a certain sense of satisfaction, and Legolas wheeled back around to the second man, just in time to block a blow that would have hit his unprotected back.  
  
His two elven knives met with the cruder, but unmistakably thicker and longer steel blade of his adversary, and Legolas' felt how the cuts and bruises he had sustained in their little crash a few days ago flared back to life and quickly reached quite unbearable dimensions. Hithrawyn had taken off the bandages with the unambiguous order to go easy on the arm for some more days, and Legolas was sure that the older elf would have a fit if he saw him now. No, he amended quickly, his arms that were both really not up for activities such as this one trembling under the strain of keeping the grinning man's blade away from his body, Hithrawyn would probably sit down on that small boulder over there and cheer these humans on.  
  
Legolas gritted his teeth and pushed the man back with all his strength, sending him crashing into three other men that stood a few feet to their left, obviously waiting for an opportunity to join in the fight without endangering their companion. For a moment, he had enough time and space to assess the situation, and came to the quick, unfavourable conclusion that they wouldn't get out of this, at least not all of them.  
  
All of the sudden, an inexplicable calmness stole over his senses, and he thanked the Valar that he had in fact not taken Aragorn with him. The young ranger would never have consented to what he was planning, never, and he could have told him until he turned blue in the face – not that he would live that long in his opinion. Then again, the men could easily have shot him, and yet they had not. What did they _want _from them?  
  
These things did not matter now, he reproached himself quickly, all that mattered was getting his men out of here. His mind already trying to come up with a solution to that problem, he gave the men a quick look who had apparently decided not to attack until their companions had arrived – unfortunately a rather sensible idea – and turned half-ways, so much he could still keep an eye on the men and at the same time look at his companions.  
  
The sight that greeted him sent his heart plummeting right into his stomach, a sensation he didn't enjoy at all. Anardir was still kneeling beside his friend, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder he didn't seem to notice. The projectile must have hit him some time during the past few minutes, yet the blonde elf hadn't made a sound or had apparently acknowledged his injury, so intent had he been on helping his friend.   
  
Legolas swallowed hard, instinctively moving forward again to discourage a man who had stepped closer, as if to test the elf's reflexes. The man fell back again, his eyes never leaving Legolas' face as he waited for an opportunity to surprise and overtake him.  
  
Galalith … Galalith looked horrible. Blood was still seeping into the snow, even though it was now merely a trickle, hindered by the makeshift bandage Anardir had wrapped around the other elf's middle. The dark haired elf's face was deadly pale and his eyes closed, both signs that his injury was very serious indeed.  
  
The elven prince took a deep breath and fixed Anardir with a hard, commanding stare, who looked back at him with eyes wide with desperation.  
  
_"Drego!"_ he commanded curtly, moving to the side to fend off two humans who had obviously decided that they could take him if they worked together, an assumption that couldn't have been more wrong as they soon found out. A second later Legolas returned his gaze to the shocked blonde elf, who was merely staring at him in disbelief.  
  
_"Drego!"_ he repeated. _"Togo hon dan nan thaim i Aran!"_  
  
Anardir shook his head, horror on his face. Legolas didn't know whether his order or Galalith's condition had shocked him more.  
"No, my lord, we will not leave you," he stated in low, hoarse sounding Sindarin, his eyes growing wide when he saw that the next group of men had nearly reached them. "We…"  
  
Legolas pushed back another two attackers and whirled around to face his friend, eyes wide and amazingly calm. The other men would be here in a matter of seconds, and then the two elves' chances of escape would diminish dramatically.  
"You will, Anardir. He needs help, go! Tell my father what happened here. I gave you an order!"  
  
Anardir looked down at the motionless body of his friend, uncertainty, guilt and pain on his face.  
"I cannot!"  
  
"Go!!" Legolas said again, a terrible look in his eyes. "I will hold them off as long as possible, you will take my horse and go! I order you!"  
  
It was probably more that look than the order itself that prompted the other elf to give a curt nod and bent down to lift up his wounded friend in the end. He looked up and obviously wanted to say something, a heart-rending, desperate look on his face, but Legolas simply gave him another look from where he was several dozen feet away now, involved in a fight with most of the men around him in a rather obvious attempt to lead the humans away from the other elves.  
  
"Go!! Please, Anardir!"  
  
Anardir just looked at him with wide, impossibly guilty eyes before turning around and grabbing Rashwe's bridle, trying to lead the resisting horse away, deeper into the trees. As soon as Legolas saw that the other was obeying his order, something that filled him to equal parts with relief, hope and mild astonishment, he moved quickly forward again, lashing out at everything that moved and doing his best to keep the men's attention on himself.   
  
'Elbereth,' he thought desperately as he ducked and twisted and did what he could to keep his adversaries occupied, 'Please let them be alright, please let them escape and alert the others…'  
  
Without turning around he could hear that Anardir was having a hard time convincing Rashwe to follow his commands, and he gave a short, resolute order that not even his horse could refuse. Since Legolas didn't take his eyes off his attackers, he was spared the look of utter disgust and reproach the big white horse shot him as it allowed Anardir to lead it deeper into the trees; not even when another arrow flew over the fair haired elf's head and buried itself in the animal's hind leg, causing it to give a shocked, pained neigh, did Legolas have the time to turn around, so focused was he on keeping the men at bay.  
  
He knew however that he wouldn't last long now, and when the humans' reinforcements arrived and closed the circle even more closely around him, he knew that this was it. He wouldn't be able to fight them off for longer than a few minutes now, he just hoped that Anardir and Galalith got away…  
  
The elven prince jumped to the side, nearly bumping into yet another adversary, and brought his daggers down in a wide, graceful arc, once again cursing as the pain in his right arm nearly caused him to drop his right knife when the vibrations of the impact ran up his arms. If he were uninjured and able to shoot he would simply retreat into the trees and start teaching them what exactly happened to those who dared violate the borders of his home, but unfortunately neither was the case. His bow was an eminently useless weight on his back and he was stuck here, on the ground, alone, with about fifteen humans closing in on him, and his chances to get out of here were, to borrow one of Aragorn's expressions, slim to none.  
  
Wonderful, that was the only word that really fitted – of course only when uttered in an especially sarcastic way. This was really, really wonderful…  
  
"Don't let them escape!" a voice somewhere to Legolas' right bellowed, and he and about half of his attackers looked up, the men with a definitely scared expression, to see a medium-sized, middle-aged man with dark blonde hair that appeared at the edge of the tree-line, looking more than a little annoyed. The man pointed at something at Legolas' back, and the elf knew without turning that he was referring to his friends. "Kill them! Don't let them get away!"  
  
A renewed, burning fury flooded through Legolas, and with a quick, forceful kick he sent the first man who wanted to obey the other's order flying backwards, in the process taking two more men down with him. The next few men who wanted to side-step him and get past him to the other two elves found themselves attacked with such furious determination that they backed away again quickly, both holding wounds that had been inflicted upon them so quickly that they hadn't even had the time to register any pain.  
  
More humans flooded forward to follow the blonde man's command, but Legolas used all his speed, experience and skill to keep them back and away from his friends. Now it turned out to be a good thing that most of the men were attacking him, for they were using their blades and hadn't readied their bows. If he could keep them busy for some more moments, it would be too late for them to reach Anardir with a bow, and they would escape…  
  
The elf's eyes narrowed, a frightening, dark light shining in their blue depths. He would _not _allow them to hurt Anardir or Galalith even more; both of them were injured already! If they wanted to kill his men, they would have to go through him, and he would show them what even a lone warrior of Mirkwood could do!   
  
The men fell back, obviously startled for a moment by the ferociousness this one elf displayed, but then they surged forward again and by the sheer force of numbers alone managed to push him away to the left, effectively pinning him between a group of about ten men and a tree while the rest rushed past, trying to catch the other two elves before they got out of their reach completely.  
  
Legolas barely avoided another blade that had been aimed for his right arm, feeling how the sharp point cut through his coat and shirt to leave a thin, bloody line on his still slightly discoloured forearm, and, reaching out to grab the man and twisting to the side at the same time, managed to slam his attacker against the tree head-first, hearing the sharp, dry, cracking sound that was audible when the human's skull impacted with the dark bark with utter satisfaction.   
  
For a moment, he had time to turn and look back at the spot the two elves had occupied only moments ago, and relief flooded through him when all he saw was Rashwe's white, now bloodstained coat that disappeared between the trees in the distance.   
  
Even despite his situation, despite the pain in his arm and the exhaustion that was beginning to creep up on him, despite the fact that he knew that he would be overwhelmed in seconds when the men that were in pursuit of the horse understood that they wouldn't be able to catch up with the others and returned, despite the terror and fear he felt when he thought of Galalith's white, still face, Legolas smiled. Anardir and Galalith had got away, and these men would never catch up with his horse, not even had they been mounted themselves.   
  
The fair haired prince turned back to the men that were slowly coming closer again, obviously intent on ending this little game that had been going on for far too long now. Legolas merely gave them a contemptuous, smug look, almost inviting them to come closer.   
  
Now they could start in earnest, and if they really wanted to come and get him, he would take as many of them with him as he could, Eru help him.  
  
  
  
  
Reran could truly not remember having ever been this angry, and that included the time three weeks ago when their lord had informed him that Teonvan would serve as his second-in-command during this mission. No, now he had reached new, unheard-of dimensions of fury, and he wasn't even sure if the term "angry" still applied. This felt more like the overpowering, all-defining urge to kill he had experienced on several occasions, and if he thought of his dark haired commander, he was inclined to indulge that particular desire.  
  
At that thought the man's brown eyes narrowed, and he hurried his steps into the direction of the spot where his men were still trying to subdue the elf who didn't seem to tire at all, judging by his still graceful and incredibly fast movements. Reran's mood turned even darker, and his face adopted an expression that most of his men knew heralded doom and pain.  
  
The human captain's eyes quickly moved over the edge of the forest and stopped when he saw that the men he had sent after the fleeing elves returned, and their fearful and dejected expressions told him what he wanted to know: They had not managed to catch up with the other two, not that he had really expected them to. As soon as he had set foot into the clearing and seen the blonde elf hold off his men with a truly remarkable effort and the others mount the white horse, he had known that his plan had failed.  
  
A low growl escaped Reran's throat, causing Cendan who had just stepped closer to fall back again, a rather alarmed expression on his face. That … that … foolish man Teonvan, the captain thought in helpless fury, why couldn't he just listen to his orders at least once!? Once was really not too much to ask for in his opinion, and yet that stupid, thoughtless, dim-witted son of an orc went and destroyed his plan that had been so carefully devised in the beginning!  
  
It had all started when Teonvan's troupe had moved too quickly, _without his orders_, and had alerted their prey to their presence. That alone wouldn't have been that bad since the other two groups had managed to follow relatively quickly, but the one thing Reran had been trying to accomplish _before _moving, namely cordoning off the elves and closing off all escape routes to effectively trap them, had of course been impossible now.   
  
But no, Reran thought irritated, that had of course not been enough for Teonvan whose only aim in life was apparently to destroy his plans as best as humanly possible. That moron had also ordered his men to shoot at the elves, something that Reran had expressly forbidden, and the reason for that had immediately become apparent when he had arrived with his group moments after Teonvan's, Cendan and his men who had arrived only a few seconds ago behind them.   
  
One of the elves had already been shot, not that that really bothered Reran of course, but he had been shot while trying to protect his leader, something that filled the man with an icy fury. He had expressly stated that he wanted the commander alive, and had that elf not thrown himself in front of the blonde one, he would have died and he, Reran, would be stuck here with nothing.  
  
Reran's eyes quickly darted over to the lithe figure of said elf, his face twisting into a mildly concerned grimace when he realised that he was still fighting. Where the elf got the energy or the speed from, he did not know, but he was still on his feet and resisting, even though it had to be obvious even to him that he could not escape, not anymore. He was surrounded, and even though there lay several bodies at his feet, both unconscious and dead, he was vastly outnumbered and at a severe disadvantage since he didn't even have something to cover his back.   
  
No, the man thought, the elf wouldn't get out of here, not if he had anything to say at all, and that was a good thing too, since this one was definitely the leader of this small group, there was no mistaking it. He hadn't understood what he had told the other two a few minutes ago for he had been too far away and didn't understand the language anyway, but it had been clear that the other blonde elf had obeyed him and left, even if he hadn't appeared very happy about it. If he had needed more proof, he had got it in the fierce protectiveness with which the blonde elf had guarded the other two's escape, something that he had never seen to this degree in another being before.  
  
By now they had drawn closer to the group, and Reran noted that the men who had in vain tried to catch up with the fleeing elves had also reached the small throng of fighting men and elf, reinforcing the circle that had been drawn around the lone, fair haired being and sealing his fate. It wouldn't be long now until the elf would be overwhelmed, even though Reran had to admit that he had lasted a lot longer than he had thought possible, for either elf or man.  
  
He was just about to step forward and join the fray with Cendan and the two other men who had accompanied him, when he noticed that Teonvan was among the recently arrived men, causing him to lift a hand and halt his movements. At the sight of the other man's shrunken, yellowish face and matted brown hair the urge to kill him in a very painful and messy sort of way returned, but Reran suppressed it and held the three other men back with a quick shake of his head. He very much wanted to see how Teonvan fared against this elf, or any elf at that matter.  
  
Teonvan had pushed his way through the men that were surrounding the blonde elf, a smug, self-assured grin on his face. 'That idiot is really thinking he can take him alone!' Reran shook his head incredulously. 'He must be as stupid as he looks after all.'  
  
The grin on the dark haired man's face even widened as he brought his sword in a ready position in front of him, causing the elf who had just fended off another two men without even breaking into a sweat to raise a mocking eyebrow. It was rather remarkable how much contempt and derision one could put into as simple a gesture as this, and Reran watched with detached interest how his second-in-command's face turned a red colour as he motioned the others to stay back and rushed forward, obviously trying to run his adversary through with one stroke.  
  
His blade met only empty air, since the elf was long gone when Teonvan had closed the few feet between them. The blonde being had stepped to the side, and with a movement too quick for mortal eyes to follow one of his knives bit deeply into the man's sword arm. Teonvan gave an enraged shout, sounding remarkably like a wounded bull, and whirled around to face his opponent again, only to have him avoid him again and again.  
  
Reran watched the proceedings for only a few seconds to come to the conclusion that the elf was planning something and that he was merely toying with his worthless second-in-command. Knowing full well what he would do if he were in the elf's position, Reran motioned the two men that stood behind Cendan to ready their bows which they did, fitting arrows to the strings and assuming firing positions in a matter of seconds.  
  
Seconds were all they had, too, and just when the two had made ready to fire, a cry drew everyone's attention to the fighters, and Reran felt how his lips twisted into a mildly amused smile. In the middle of the small circle that his men had formed stood the elf, one of his daggers pressed firmly against the neck of the commander whose sword lay discarded on the ground. The other dagger was still firmly clenched in his left hand which was right now pressing against Teonvan's chest, holding him still as much as the blade against his jugular vein.  
  
The blonde captain shook his head slowly, savouring the moment. Well, now Teonvan had probably finally learned that one should never underestimate the Elves, and that one paid a heavy price if one did.  
  
The cold, emotionless voice of the elf cut through his thoughts and drew him back to the present, his eyes locking with Reran, instinctively sensing that he was the one in command.  
"Tell your men to step back."  
  
Reran raised an eyebrow, enjoying the terrified look that Teonvan was so quick to hide immensely.  
"And why should I do that, elf?"  
  
Legolas' eyes gleamed with fury and outrage as he looked at the blonde man in front of him, and he unconsciously increased the pressure against his captive's neck.  
"Because I will kill him if you don't."  
  
The man merely looked at him before he began to grin, obviously very amused by his words. Legolas would nearly have lifted both eyebrows in surprise. Were these men mad? He quickly answered his own question: Yes, of course they were mad; they had come here after all! One had to be mad to travel into Mirkwood and attack the Elvenking's warriors.  
  
"Believe me, Master Elf, I would enjoy nothing more than watch you cut his throat, but I am afraid I cannot allow that." Reran nodded at the two men to his left and right, who raised their bows and pointed them unwaveringly at the fair haired elf. "I don't think you are in a position to demand anything. Drop your weapons and let him go."  
  
"And why should _I _do that, _human_?" Legolas spat, suppressing the feeble resistance the man he was holding captive obviously wanted to put up by simply pressing harder against his throat. "You dare attack King Thranduil's warriors, you dare enter the Realm of Mirkwood, and you dare tell me what to do?" His eyes darkened even further, and he added in a soft, deadly tone of voice, "You will not leave this forest alive, you can believe that."  
  
Reran rolled his eyes, annoyance creeping into his voice.  
"Your companions will not get far injured as they and the horse are. They may have escaped our grasp, yes, but the next patrol is a long way from here and they won't reach it in time. When your reinforcements arrive, we will be long gone."  
  
Legolas' eyes narrowed to mere slits as he thought of his wounded friends.  
"What do you want from me? Why did you attack us?"  
  
The human captain took a step forward, keeping in mind to stay out of the line of fire and gave his men a sign to step aside which they did, opening a passage to the elf and his captive.  
"Give up, elf. You cannot escape, and if you kill him we will kill you. Lower your weapons and release him, or things will get very unpleasant for you, that is something _you _can believe."  
  
Legolas stared at the blonde man, too many and too conflicted emotions racing through him, and for a moment he truly did not know what to do. One part of him wanted him to stall, to somehow keep the men here until another patrol found them, but when he was perfectly honest he knew that that was not likely going to happen. The next patrol was five hours away from here, so even if Anardir managed to reach them in that time – which was highly unlikely with an injured horse and an injured companion – his men would reach him in ten hours at the earliest.   
  
He grimaced inwardly; there was no way he was going to keep this stand-off up for ten hours.   
  
"Don't be foolish, elf," the man in front of him advised him, shaking his blonde-grey head. "I have heard that your kind is fast, but you're not fast enough to slit his throat, avoid two arrows and fight your way through my men. Surrender."   
  
"Why don't we put it to the test? I am sure I can kill most of your men before you kill me," Legolas stated darkly, looking into the human's obviously rather amused face.  
  
Reran's grin even widened.  
"I believe you might be right, Master Elf, but the end result will remain the same: You will die. This is your last chance: Lower your weapons and release him, or I will order my men to attack, and you can believe me when I say that I don't care if my loyal commander is killed in the process or not. You won't get out of here."  
  
The prince merely graced him with an emotionless elven stare, but the truth of the man's words could not be denied. The leader's brown eyes were as hard and cold as the snow all around them, and Legolas was sure that he would do as he had just said. He knew himself that he couldn't escape; for that he was too outnumbered, too surrounded and, if he was honest with himself, too exhausted. All this had put a great strain on his still healing body, and his head was beginning to ache in rhythm with his heartbeat again.  
  
His entire being screamed at him to fight, not to do what this man wanted, but his head told him that the human was right and that he would be killed if he did. His pride demanded that he stayed and died before complying, yet in his head he could hear the voice of his old teacher who had been teaching him and the elves of his age many, many years ago when they had first entered the warrior training.  
  
_'To die fighting to your last breath against impossible odds may be a heroic thing, and if you're lucky your deeds might even be sung about by the minstrels for an age to come, but it has a very uncomfortable side effect: You die. No, lads, if you have any other option left it is foolish not to follow the path of reason and to fight when you know you cannot win.'   
  
_Legolas smiled inwardly when he remembered his old teacher's solemn face when he had looked at them, his eyes seemingly boring into every single one of them.  
  
_'I know that many of you do not believe me now, but you will find out that fighting your way out of a situation is often not the way. There is something you always have to remember: You are far more valuable to your king, your people and your friends when you're alive than when you die fighting an impossible fight. As long as you are alive, there is hope for escape, and hope for meeting with your enemies under more favourable circumstances. If you have no other options left, then, by the Valar, try to take as many of your enemies with you as you can, but otherwise it is your duty to survive to fight another day. Never forget this.'_  
  
Legolas kept looking at the men for another moment, and finally, with a small, weary sigh, he removed his right knife from Teonvan's throat and gave him a none too gentle push forward, into the direction of the other men. A second later both his daggers dropped to the ground, disappearing soundlessly to the hilts in the churned up, stained snow to his feet. His old teacher had been right, of course, he just might survive this if he surrendered, "might" being the main word here.   
  
For a moment, no-one moved as if nothing had happened, and Reran looked at the stony-faced elf and bowed his head in mock respect.  
"A very sensible choice, Master Elf." He nodded at the men that were still surrounding the lithe being and were looking undecided and very ill at ease. "Tie him up and get him ready to move out. We need to get away from here as quickly as possible."  
  
Before one of the men had even moved a single inch, Teonvan had whirled around, eyes that were positively burning with fury and hatred large in his pale face. Reran shook his head inwardly; the elf should definitely not have treated Teonvan in this manner. The human commander had been humiliated in front of every single one of his men, and Reran had the feeling that that wasn't something the other man forgave easily, or forgave at all.  
  
In the meantime, two of the men had stepped forward and, after looking at the elf somewhat fearfully as if he would kill them with his bare hands – something Reran didn't think all that unlikely, judging by his expression – removed his quiver form his back and grabbed his arms tightly, preparing to twist and bind them behind his back with a length of rope one of the others held ready. Their prisoner offered no resistance, all too aware of the arrows that were still aiming at his chest, but before the men could even start with their appointed task, Teonvan had pushed his way through the rest of the men, appearing even angrier than before, it that was even possible. His face twisted into a furious grimace, he stopped in front of the impassive elf and, with a quick, practised move, smashed his fist into the captive elf's face.  
  
The prisoner made no sound and was merely thrown backwards into the two men that were restraining him, reeling with the force of the blow, but before he could get his bearings, another blow hit him straight in his stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs. For a sudden, terrifying moment Legolas thought he had forgotten how to breathe when his lungs seemed unwilling to resume their work due to the paralysis that appeared to have stolen over his body, and he gasped for breath, an action that was quickly interrupted when he felt a fist connect with his torso again, this time with the side of his chest.  
  
His hands were pulled behind his back and secured with strong rope, yet Legolas hardly noticed anything apart from the blows that connected with his upper body, each of them throwing him against the bodies of the two men that still held him fast. Well, he thought through the dark haze of pain that threatened to swallow him whole, whoever this man was, he definitely knew how to hit somebody where it hurt the most – something that really wasn't all that reassuring at all…  
  
That thought was quickly driven from his mind when yet another blow hit him in the stomach, causing him to automatically double over in an attempt to prevent further abuse to his already hurting body. O great Manwë, it had _not _been a good idea to surrender! He could almost hear Aragorn's voice that was roaring with laughter at that thought, even though it could just as easily have been the loudly rushing blood in his ears that slowly but steadily began to drown out his surroundings. Of course it hadn't been a good idea to surrender, but then again, what other options had he had?   
  
Suddenly, the blows stopped and a hand tangled in his hair that had fallen forward to obscure his features, hiding his tightly closed eyes. Legolas forced his breathing to calm and the expression on his face into a mask of calm disinterest – not an easy task, but essentially not harder than telling your father that no, you had of course not left the palace to hunt spiders in the dead of night and had no idea why your clothing was stained with dark blood, something he had done far too often in the past.  
  
The hand's grip tightened painfully and jerked his head up, and Legolas came face to face with the sneering man whose throat he could have slit a few minutes ago, and suddenly the elven prince caught himself wishing that he had. The human's face seemed to fall a little when he saw the calm face of his prisoner, the only thing that betrayed any emotions at all seemingly the large, dark eyes that looked at him as if he were a particularly nasty, slimy insect he had just found under a small rock.  
  
That enraged the dark haired commander even more, and he snapped the blonde elf's head back a little more, grinning cruelly at him.  
"Not so superior now, are we, elf?"  
  
His captive didn't answer and merely studied him with a mildly surprised expression on his face, as if astonished that he could actually speak, and Teonvan quickly decided that he had never met a being that simply begged for getting that haughty stubbornness beaten out of him as much as this one.  
  
He leaned a little bit closer, his grin widening when he saw the other trying to recoil from him as far as he could.  
"You will regret what you've done, elf, that I promise you. You have to be alive when we reach our destination, nothing more, and until then I will make you wish you had never resisted me in the first place."  
  
Legolas looked at the man, unable to hide his disgust any longer.   
"I did not resist you, human, I _beat _you. You would be dead if I wished you to be," he told him in a dangerous, low tone of voice, piercing the man with a look of such fury and contempt that Teonvan had to avert his eyes. "And it is you who will wish something before long, namely that you had killed me when you had the chance."  
  
Teonvan's eyes narrowed and he drew back to hit the elf again when a hand closed around his forearm, yanking him none too gently back. The dark haired commander turned around, eyes gleaming with hatred and anger, but lowered them immediately when he saw the far too calm face of Reran whose fingers tightened around his arm.  
  
"That's enough," the human captain said quietly. He gave the assembled men who had been watching the proceedings with fascination a commanding stare. "Three of you will stay with him, and I am sure the others have something else to do." The men dropped their gazes, and quickly began to disperse when Reran bellowed, "Am I not correct??"   
  
The blonde man watched his men shuffle off as quickly as they were able, a part of them disappearing to get their horses from where they had left them before closing in on the elves, and finally turned back to his second-in-command whose arm he was still gripping tightly. Not releasing his hold on him, he began to drag him off to the side, but turned back to the guards that were still holding onto the elf's arms.  
  
"Great Ones, what are you waiting for? Search him!"   
  
The men hastened to comply, and with a last look at the elf's disconcertingly calm, contemptuous face Reran turned and moved off into the direction he had come, giving Teonvan no other choice than to follow him if he didn't want to be dragged off in front of their men. After a few dozen feet Reran stopped and gave his surroundings a quick look to make sure that no-one was overhearing him before turning dark, furious eyes on his second-in-command.  
  
"There is only one reason why I didn't allow the elf to kill you and that is that I want to pleasure for myself!" he hissed, noting with satisfaction how the dark haired man tried to free himself from his grasp, an expression on his face that bordered on terrified. "What in the name of all the Gods were you _thinking_? You move without waiting for the signal, you almost shoot the elf we want and then you allow him to nearly cut your throat in front of the men? Explain yourself, man!!"  
  
"He surprised me," Teonvan explained sullenly, obviously not willing to accept that he had been bested in a fair fight.   
  
Reran closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten, doing his best to imagine what their lord would say if he killed this worthless, slimy idiot right here and now.  
"You are a fool, Teonvan, and I pray that I will be there to see it when that fact kills you," he told him slowly. "Be assured that our liege will hear about this, as well as about the fact that you nearly killed his prize and let his companions escape."  
  
"They won't get back here in time," the dark haired man shrugged, trying to hide the small flicker of fear that flashed across his face when he thought of the possibility of encountering even more elves, elves that would probably not be too happy about the fact that they had captured one of their captains. "We have what we want. He is the leader of this patrol, that much is clear, and we will be out of this wood before they can even try to get him back."  
  
The human captain shook his head, once again needing to reign in his temper.  
"But they _will _be back, Teonvan! They are elves, and elves follow trails easily! They will find us if we are not careful; and I only do not kill you for your arbitrary acts because there is the fair chance that they will lose our trail in this snowstorm."  
  
Teonvan lowered his eyes and Reran released the other's arm and stepped back, not even bothering to hide the contempt that was written on his face.  
"Make sure that the ones that were killed are hidden as best as possible; while it won't fool anyone who is really searching this area, there is no need to leave them in plain sight where everyone can see them instantly. And now get out of my sight before I change my mind and finish what the elf started."  
  
The commander nodded and turned on his heel, obviously more than relieved to escape his superior's presence, but was stopped in mid-step by Reran's soft voice that bade him to stop.  
"One other thing, Teonvan. We need the elf alive, and if you damage him beyond repair it will be you who will take his place as something to keep the men in good humour. Understood?"  
  
Teonvan nodded quickly, a curious light kindled in his eyes.  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Reran shook his head, his brow wrinkling in disgust.  
"Do you take me for a fool, Teonvan? I have heard about you and your … hobbies, preferences, whatever you wish to call it, more than I ever wanted to know. Just remember that you will be next if he dies or manages to kill himself as some of your previous prisoners have, so I would strongly advise you to restrain yourself this time. You should know me well enough to know that I do not make idle threats."  
  
"Yes, sir," the other repeated, avoiding his eyes. "I understand."  
  
"I seriously hope so, Teonvan," the captain replied. "Cendan's men will be guarding him, and if I hear something that displeases me about how you treat the elf, I will be severely displeased. You are dismissed."  
  
With a quick bow of his head Teonvan turned and disappeared in the whirling snow masses that were still swirling all around them, leaving Reran to look after him in a mixture irritation and real worry. He really hoped that he had made his point clear, but even if Teonvan heeded his command and kept himself back, he had the very bad feeling that this mission would not end well.  
  
He had seen the light that appeared in the younger man's eyes every time the elf was mentioned, and that alone was enough to tell him that this would be a long and difficult journey. He didn't mind if his men treated the elf a bit roughly, that would of course be unavoidable anyway considering that he had killed several of his men today.   
  
But that gleam in Teonvan's eyes was something else entirely than the look of a man who was looking forward to having a bit of fun with a prisoner; it was on an entirely different level and Reran refused to think about what kind of level that might be.   
All he knew was that the elves that would soon be on their trail were the least of his worries right now, and that he would need to keep a close eye on his incompetent second-in-command.  
  
Reran growled inwardly and turned to follow the other man into the direction of the other men, intending to make sure himself that the elf was bound securely and was in no position to give them any trouble.  
  
He was beginning to really, really hate Adruran for dying and landing him with this mission.  
  
  
  
  
It was the twentieth time, or the twenty-first, he wasn't sure anymore. He had lost the ability to count sometime in the last five minutes, or perhaps it was just the ability to pay attention to his surroundings.  
  
Whatever was the case, Anardir thought fuzzily, the horse had stumbled yet again, the rough movement sending a stab of agony through his shoulder and lower back, a pain he more than deserved in his opinion.   
  
He should never have obeyed his prince's command, that was something he had realised mere seconds after he had somehow, he didn't really know how, managed to lift his friend's body onto the white horse and mount it himself. Legolas might have ordered him, yes, but it had been more his desperate, begging eyes that had convinced him to leave, that and Galalith's still, blood-stained body.  
  
Anardir hung his head. He had put his friend's safety before his prince's, however much Legolas had wanted him to, and that was something he would never be able to forgive himself if they in fact managed to get to another patrol before all three of them would collapse, something that seemed more and more likely with every passing second.  
  
In the past hours that they'd been travelling, his head had begun to accept some basic facts, even though his heart still resolutely refused to acknowledge the truth of these statements.   
  
First, that the horse wouldn't be able to carry them all the way north-west (if they were still going north-west, that was) to the next patrol. Second, that he would most probably not make it to the next patrol himself, and third, the most painful admission, that Galalith wouldn't make it either.  
  
The horse stumbled again, betraying its steadily increasing weariness, and Anardir could only in the last second grab Galalith's unconscious body tighter and at the same time reach desperately for a handhold. He shook his head, his eyes closing on their own account. No, Rashwe wouldn't make it very far now; with the arrow sticking out of the animal's hind leg it was a true miracle that it hadn't collapsed already.  
  
The blonde elf's thoughts returned to the state of health both he himself and his friend were in. His mind refused to think about the elf he was holding as tightly as if his life depended on it, and so he began to muse about the injuries he himself had sustained. It took him a long time, and his fuzzy, tired brain refused to co-operate, but finally he remembered why he was feeling as wretched as he did: Not one arrow had hit him, but two, the second when they had been escaping into the forest, and both of them were still protruding from his body, the first from his shoulder and the second from his lower back. Elbereth, he thought with a small, inward chuckle, he was probably beginning to look like a porcupine…  
  
The more rational part of him was right now having a fit inside his skull, demanding that he pull himself together if he really wanted either of them to make it back to safety. Anardir concentrated on the situation at hand with a tremendous effort, feeling weak and dizzy from the blood loss. More than the wounds to his body hurt the knowledge that he had left his prince behind he had sworn to protect, something he should never have done, order or not.  
  
That thought redirected his attention to the still body of his friend he held in his arms, and he once again felt how the icy hand of fear reached into his chest and began to crush his heart, hanging onto him with the stubbornness of a wild animal that refused to let go or be pacified. This fear never abated, fuelled by the fact that Galalith's breathing was becoming increasingly erratic and laboured, and no matter how many makeshift bandages he wrapped around the arrow shaft that had hit him into his abdomen, dark red blood still continued to seep through the material. His face was ashen with not a bit of colour on his cheeks, and he was beginning to feel cold to the touch as well.   
  
Anardir swallowed hard. He had been in enough battles to understand what these signs meant, and yet he couldn't bring himself to accept the implications. He had seen many people, elves and men alike, who had looked like this, but the blonde elf firmly refused to liken their fate to that of his friend. Galalith couldn't die like they had, he mustn't!  
  
He was torn out of his dark thoughts when Rashwe stumbled again, the weight of the two elves on top of the animal's injury becoming finally too much. This time, the horse was unable to catch itself and went crashing to the ground with a half-pained, half-shocked shriek. Anardir's muddled brain wasn't able to comprehend what was going on fast enough, and so he merely had enough time to grab Galalith more tightly as they were thrown off their mount, landing hard in the snow a few feet away from the fallen horse.  
  
For a moment, the blonde elf was sure that he had passed out, and he even might have had, for a few seconds at least. When he slowly came to his senses again, his whole body screaming in pain and informing him unambiguously that it wouldn't get up any time soon, he opened his eyes and noted with detached interest that he had landed on his wounded shoulder, serving to drive the arrow there deeper into his flesh and snapping the wooden shaft that was hardly visible now anymore.   
  
The pain had mounted to indescribable heights now, but he hardly noticed it as he began to slowly push himself upright, stopping when he had managed to get to his knees. He painfully pulled Galalith's still body closer to him, making quickly sure that the other elf hadn't suffered another injury in their fall. A small, dark voice inside his head noted that he would hardly notice it should that indeed be the case, but Anardir ignored it.  
  
When he had made sure that Galalith's condition was unchanged at the least, he looked around him for Legolas' horse that he finally spotted to their right where it was standing next to a fallen tree, flanks heaving and trembling violently. It was clear that the beast was in a great deal of pain, but it had managed to get back up and slowly came closer, looking at the two fallen elves with a look of pity and urgency Anardir had never seen on a horse's face before, especially not on his prince's which was known to be … evil, for a lack of better word.  
  
The fair haired elf shook his head slowly, helplessness emanating from his lithe form.  
"I am sorry," he told the horse slowly, trying to ignore the grey spots that were beginning to obscure his vision. "We … can't help your master anymore … Go and find the patrol to the north. We won't go anywhere."  
  
Elven horses were intelligent creatures, and regardless of its character, Rashwe was definitely more intelligent than most. The softly gleaming white horse bent its head, nosed the blonde elf's uninjured shoulder in an oddly gentle gesture before turning and slowly disappearing in the still heavily falling snow.   
  
Anardir stared after it for a few seconds, feeling somehow utterly alone all of the sudden. He contemplated his options and had just decided on the most attractive, namely losing consciousness, when a soft, almost inaudible moan alerted him to the fact that Galalith was regaining consciousness.  
  
The elf stared at his friend's face, feeling how his heart constricted in his chest. He had seen this particular pallor far too many times in the past, the last time on the face of one of the warriors he had led into the Battle of Five Armies, right before he died. Anardir felt how tears welled up in his eyes and used all his remaining strength to hold them back. If … if it really came to it, what would Galalith think if he saw him crying?  
  
Another slightly louder moan could be heard, and Anardir swallowed quickly and slowly reached out to place a hand against the other's cheek, a chill travelling through him when he realised how cold his friend was.  
"Galalith? My friend, are you awake?"  
  
The other elf's green eyes opened slowly, the contrast between their darkness and the pale colour of his face even more stunning than usually. Something like confusion swept over the ashen countenance, and he whispered brokenly,  
  
"Anardir … that you?"  
  
Anardir smiled shakily, doing his best not to show how distraught he really was.  
"Yes, of course. Whom were you expecting, _mellon nín_?"  
  
Galalith didn't return the smile, his eyes gazing blindly at his best friend's face. After a few seconds, alarm slowly began to show in the green orbs as recollection set in.  
"The prince … where is … he?"  
  
The blonde elf bit his lower lip in an effort not to let the cracks in his more or less composed façade show.  
"He is fine, Galalith," he tried to soothe the other. "He was not harmed. You saved him."  
  
The ghost of a smile flittered over the dark haired elf's face and he gave a little relieved sigh.  
"Good … good…"  
  
Anardir felt how the breath hitched in his throat, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on his friend as he literally sensed him slide farther away from him.  
"Galalith! Stay awake! Please, my friend, you cannot go to sleep now … we will be home soon, and Hithrawyn will have a fit when he sees you…"  
  
The small smile on Galalith's face widened before he coughed weakly, oblivious to the blood that appeared at the corner of his mouth.  
"You lie, my friend … you never were a … good liar, you know …you were al-always too worried to keep up the pretence..."  
  
Anardir had to forcefully tear his eyes away from the red liquid that covered the edges of his friend's mouth, and he quickly shook his head, trying to smile bravely and failing miserably.  
"You are right, of course. Just stay awake please, stay with me!"  
  
Galalith coughed again and shook his head minutely.  
"I'm … s-sorry."  
  
Tears once again gathered in Anardir's eyes and he pulled his friend closer, listening to his friend's slow heartbeat that reverberated through his chest.  
"There is nothing you would have to be sorry for, my friend," he told the other elf firmly. "You did nothing wrong. You saved the prince. You did nothing wrong…"  
  
"No," Galalith protested in a whisper. "I'm sorry, but … I can't stay. I … have to go."  
  
"No!" Anardir exclaimed, his heart for the first time fully understanding what his friend was saying. "You are not going anywhere, you hear me? Don't you remember what we swore each other when we were children? Where you go, I will go. I will not let you go anywhere without me!"  
  
"I'm sorry," the other repeated, his voice sounding stronger all of the sudden, something that scared Anardir more than everything else until now. "I cannot keep that promise, my friend. I … must go."  
  
"No, Galalith, please!" the blonde elf exclaimed again, tears coursing down his cheeks freely now, falling into the snow to freeze to tiny drops of ice in a matter of moments. "Not now … not like this…"  
  
Galalith shook his head again, his movements growing weaker by the second.  
"I can't … my friend, I'm sorry." He took a deep, laboured breath, and Anardir felt the beating of his friend's heart slow even more. "Promise me that … you w-w-won't follow me." The dark haired elf felt for the other's hand, eyes still fixed on the blonde's grief-stricken face. "Promise me!"  
  
Anardir took his friend's hand into a shaking one of his own, not able to believe what was happening. He was about to protest, but when he saw the pleading, desperate gleam in the other elf's slowly dimming eyes, he nodded his head, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.  
"I promise you, my friend," he choked out. "I will not willingly follow you."   
  
Galalith smiled again, a peaceful smile that reminded Anardir of the merry elfling he had met all these long years ago.  
"I thank you, Anardir … I will … miss you."  
  
Anardir wanted to retort something, sensing that his friend was already on his way to Mandos' Halls, but he couldn't articulate a single word, dark, unspeakable grief choking him. All he could do was nod with tears streaming down his face, obscuring his view of his friend's almost translucent face.  
  
Galalith gripped his hand a little more tightly, looking at his friend with quiet intensity.  
"Please … tell my parents of my … love for them and," he took a deep, trembling breath, a little more blood appearing at his lips, "tell Legolas … that I do not regret my choice. I did it … gladly, for him."   
  
He struggled to smile again, his body already refusing to obey his commands.   
"Good-bye, _gwador nín_."  
  
The dark haired elf exhaled a last time as his heart finally stopped beating, and his eyes became vacant as his _fëa _left his body to travel to the Halls of Mandos, in the Undying Lands far across the Sundering Seas.   
  
For long moments, Anardir could only stare at his dead friend's peaceful, serene face, not fully comprehending what had just happened, but then he reached out with a violently shaking hand to gently close the other's wide-open eyes. He looked at Galalith's body with unbelieving eyes, slowly beginning to grasp the concept that his oldest friend was dead and that his eyes would never again open to look at him; and the fear that had been preying on his heart faded and died and turned into black, all-consuming despair.  
  
"Good-bye, my brother," he whispered almost inaudibly through the sobs that shook his injured body. "Safe journey. I will miss you as well."   
  
Only then did the full force of his grief hit him, and he gathered the limp form of his friend to his chest, rocking back and forth softly in a vain attempt to ease the pain that was threatening to tear his heart asunder. He did not move from the spot even when night began to fall, all he was aware of being the still body that was all that was left of the one person he had loved most in all of Arda.  
  
It was thus that the patrol found them many hours later, together in the snow-covered forest with death and despair hanging thickly in the air about them, and not one of the warriors had to ask what had happened, for the mournful whispering of the trees told them everything they needed to know.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _Drego - Flee!  
Togo hon dan nan thaim i Aran - Take him back to the Halls of the King_  
_mellon nín - my friend  
gwador nín - my (sworn) brother  
fëa (Quenya) - spirit, soul_  
  
  
  
  
**Uhm ... *looks nervously about her* ... Merry Christmas? No? Argh! *runs off to escape readers' wrath* I know that there isn't much I can say or do to appease you, but I had to, you know, my alter ego, the plot and all that. I even cried most of the 45 minutes it took me to write that last bit. Don't tell anyone, but it's true, my mother thought something horrible had happened when she saw me. *shrugs* I'm sorry, really, I liked him too. So, to see how much trouble Legolas really is in (and we know it's got to be a lot), review and I'll try to get the next post up on Sunday. Probably Monday though, sorry, I really have loads to do right now. But you know, reviews encourage and all that... *g*  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
TrinityTheSheDevil** - So let me get this straight. You stole one of my characters, wrapped him in paper and put him under your Christmas tree? Well that's ... insolent. Yes, that's what it is... *g* No, j/k, go ahead. Miki has already one of my Nólad clones, so I can't see why you shouldn't have some fun with Galalith. Oh, as a PS: You should eat less candy, methinks. Just a little, of course... *g*  
**Iverson** - *defensively* It WAS there. You missed it by an hour or so. I DID update on time, I cannot stress this point enough. *g* Your prediction is quite right though: Legolas should rather have kept all these bandages, he's gonna need them sooner than dear Celylith, that much is certain... A side story about the honey-cakes? Hmm, that should be rather interesting, I think ... I might do one where... *thinking, evil alter ego grinning like mad* See what you've done? Hmm, why does Legolas get into trouble? Because he just DOES. I know, it's not a very good reason, but it's true. I don't do anything, really, he does it on his own. I don't even have to give him a nudge, hnestly. *g* And what do you mean? I and write Aragorn angst in this story? Nooooo, not me, I wouldn't do such a thing... *evil grin* Never. The same goes for Legolas' guilt trip, of course. *g* Oh, and there ARE lots of grammar mistakes in this, believe me. There are just some things I don't really know - I never paid that much attention in school when they taught us English grammar - who would want to learn English when you could be learning Latin or Greek? *grins sheepishly* I love those languages, so I might be a little bit biased... And you're right, Galalith may and may not be dead - I'm telling you in case you read this before you read the chapter, btw. *g* And yes, I did enjoy the movie, but unfortunately not as much as I had hoped. *sighs* Foolish me, I know.   
**Gwyn** - Yup, the 'infamous capture scene' is this chapter, even though I didn't post as quickly as you probably had hoped. I'm sorry about that, but you know - Christmas... *weary sigh* It never ceases to annoy me. But then again, one gets a lot of presents... *g*  
**LOTRFaith** - *sighs* I know. I AM unpopular at the moment, now even more so than before. I am sorry, really, but there is this thing called "plot" and it made me do it. Plus I'm evil, but you already knew that, right? *g* Somehow I got two reviews from you, don't ask me why. FF.net screwed up again, I guess...   
**Red Tigress** - Good thing you didn't say anything about RotK. I would have been most displeased... *g* And of course Legolas needs more lines, or at least lines that aren't quite as dumb. "A red sun rises. Blood has been spilt tonight." Please! He's Mr. State-the-obvious, really, all the time he says such nonsense...  
**Calenore** - Thank you. I always try to let my villains be more than mindless minions, and I really come to love them after a while. Reran is a special case, I really liked him from the beginning - probably because I loathe Teonvan and pity him, I think... *g* And the Galalith thing ... UhmIgottagobye? *runs off*  
**Firniswin** - I am rather surprised you asked, to be honest, I thought it had been become obvious by now. So: My favourite LotR character is Aragorn, closely followed by Glorfindel and Fëanor. I also like Imrahil of Dol Amroth. But I like to hurt them both, Legolas and Aragorn, because if you hurt one you get angst from the other. *re-reads sentence* God, I'm a sick person... And the language that pops up here from time to time is German because I'm German and Germans speak German, so if someone submits a German review I of course answer in that language ... did I lose you? Don't worry, I lose myself all the time... *g*  
**Jenny** - Well, as I said in the A/N, I can't really agree with that. I liked RotK, of course, but I would definitely not say that it's the best thing I have ever seen in my life. And to be honest I didn't cry either but I am just like your friend, heart of stone and all that... I'm evil. *shrugs* I've accepted it a long time ago.  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - *wide-eyed* You keep Eru in your closet? But ... but ... but who manages the universe? You know, Eru, the One, Ilúvatar and all that? You can't do that!! *shakes her* Please! Let him out!! LOL, CrazyLOTRfan = CLF? I have to admit I never noticed it - now that you mention it it's definitely scary though...  
**LegolasLover2004** - Well, the chapter was written all along. I mean, I'm writing chapter 11 right now and should be much father ahead - I just don't have the time at the moment. And well ... my alter ego made me do it? It wasn't my fault, honestly! *innocent smile* Thanks a lot for your review!  
**Sabercrazy** - LOL, Jedi rangers? Now THAT'S a scary idea when I ever saw one... I shudder to think of Aragorn would be able to do to himself and others with a lightsabre! But I agree with you of course, if both Aragorn and Celylith say don't go, then, well, _don't go_, for crying out loud! *shakes head* Stubborn, stupid elf, that one... And no, of course you're not getting a straight answer out of me. You'll have to wait a bit for the lord to appear, I'm afraid ... patience.... *g*  
**Lina** - *stares* You took Andúril? And the Ring of Barahir? Whoa, you're braver than I thought - or just as insane, I'm not sure about that yet... Congrats on getting the ring though! That's definitely a nice present! LOL, right Legolas, a suicidal tree jumped in front of your sledge... *taxing look* Just what drug are YOU on? But I know what you mean. Lampposts are especially bad. Suicidal, the whole lot of them I tell you! *nods fervently* Uhm, well, what can I say... *looks to the ground in shame* I admit it. I have a thing for elves and arrows... You're not angry, are you? Furious or something? *nervous look* Somehow I don't like the Rohirrim's new battle cry at all... *g*  
**Louise_Oblique** - Yay! One person who doesn't hate me for the cliffy! Thanks! *huggles* Ah, sorry, but I am used to death threats right now... *g* Great you liked it and that you don't hate me. It's very nice to hear. *huggles again*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - If you can't do cliffies like that: Feel lucky. It's horrible, believe me, every time I end a chapter I have to fight the urge to put in an evil, vicious cliffy... It's an addiction, I swear... *g*  
**Dha-Gal** - They should definitely make bigger Skittles bags. Sell them by the pound or something like that, that way I wouldn't have to buy them by the dozen. Then again, now that you mention it, I can't buy them at all here - bloody country, this one is... *shakes head* No Skittlessss, preciousss, no...   
**Shauna** - Uhm, he hasn't even been captured yet and you already want to know when Aragorn will find him? Well, even if I wanted to tell you I couldn't, since I haven't written that part yet. It will be a while though, so don't expect anything before chapter 13. Definitely not. And whoever said that everything would be fine once Aragorn finds him? Not me, I'm rather sure about that... *evil grin*   
**Sirithiliel** - Uhm, yes, I am in fact stopping there. Sorry. *g* Don't tell me, I'm evil, I know... I'm sorry I didn't update sooner though, but there really was no chance. I have so much to do and should in fact be doing so much right now ... ah well. I'll have time later, I guess. *g* Great you still like it, thanks for the review!  
**Amelie** - Really? The 24th is your birthday? Poor you, that has got to be horrible! My sister's birthday is on January 5th, and that's bad already since no-one remembers it and the ones who do don't know anything to give to her anymore... Poor her. *huggles sister* And I live in Germany, we celebrate on the evening of the 24th. Great you like the chapter title, I always spent a lot of time coming up with them. A Merry Christmas to you too, and Happy Birthday! *huggles*  
**Aromene** - Figuratively speaking - yes. *evil grin* And it's going to be rather thick, ugly mud too... And I don't know, but I think Estel's already come up with the perfect way to blame himself. He always does, stubborn, reckless human that he is... *shakes head* Indeed, Legolas should have learned to listen. Should being the main word here! *shakes head again* Stubborn, stupid elf.  
**Cicci** - So you don't like the cliffy? I'm hurt... *sobs* No, j/k, I didn't really expect you to like it either. They're there only for my alter ego's enjoyment - yes, she's evil and sadistic... *g* And people SHOULD get nicer around Christmas. My family doesn't appear to know that though, so I figured I would ignore it as well... *g* I don't know about 'humanly' possible, but this was as fast as 'Nilible' possible. Honest. *g*  
**Firegirl353** - *blinks* Vociferous is your favourite word. Aaaaalllllriiiight... *g* I am barely able to write anything under 350 pages, which is rather sad, really. It's just that my characters refuse to shut up - I swear I am trying to make them, but they keep ignoring me! It was never said what Anardir betted on, he didn't tell me either. Stubborn elf, that one. And about that title: There might be the problem that I don't own all elven horses. I only own Rashwe and the others, but I don't own Asfaloth for example. And I don't think that Aragorn, Legolas or Celylith would be very happy if you claimed that you owned their horses - you know how they are... And I admit that the oliphaunt scene was quite nice, as were all battle scenes. *g* Hmm, and I don't know yet, but IF Legolas gets tortured the baddies wouldn't know that Adruran still lived and would therefore not ask Legolas about him. I mean, they don't have any reason to believe that he didn't die with his men. And yes, I'm from Germany, am still living in Europe (Germany to be precise) and also have lived there for most of my live. So, tomorrow's Christmas, yay! *huge grin*   
**Aratfeniel** - Hey, no need to apologise. I know what you mean, and who HASN'T been busy with Christmas? Sometimes I'm really loathing it - right now for example... *g* Why did FF.net take down one of your stories? Did they qualify it as a top ten list or something? That happens sometimes, they're so stupid...   
**E** - YOU! *huggles* I missed you! You were my only reviewer with a One-letter-name! I'm very happy to see that you're back - I was beginning to fear that you didn't like my stories anymore... *huggles again* Thanks for reviewing again!  
**Zam** - *tiredly* Zam ... not again ... stop attacking my baddies ... they haven't even done anything yet ... please ... somebody stop her ... Lina! Urkwush! Snikdul! Will you stop her for crying out loud! Now!!! LOL! Look! A snow cone! I really cracked up at that one... *wipes tears out of here eyes* Uhhh, funny. And you're finally married! Congratulations! Are you sure Celylith REALLY wanted it though? He seems the tiniest bit upset.... *points at Celylith crying in the corner, sobbing 'She trickesssssed usss, preciousss'* Nah, forget it, I must have imagined things... I admit it though, that ending was evil. I doubt you will like this one, but okay... *g*  
**Alilacia**- Ooops, I hope you didn't read the A/N then, I don't want to spoil anything for you. I hate it when I want to see a movie and everybody tells me in detail what happens when and who says what. *shakes head in disgust* It's horrible. *chuckles* Yeah, Legolas is a rather vengeful elf and can bear a grudge quite some time - laughing about him might not be a clever thing... *g* And I see, you 'borrowed' Sting. Riiight. *g* And you're right, the list IS growing - I need help... *g*  
**Strider's Girl** - *blushes* Thank you! It's nice to hear that you like my characterisation, and I would hate to have stiff or lifeless characters. Really, I would. *g* So, as I said in the A/N, it is a good movie, even though they really cut out too much. They don't offer any explanations for most things, and a lot of the story simply gets lost, like the Faramir-Éowyn thing, the healing of them as legitimation of Aragorn's claims and many other things. But it was still good, hoenstly. *g*  
**Critternut** - Don't worry, the chapter is here, so you will be able to read it before you go to Florida. I was there once over Christmas, some years ago, and found it very strange. For me it has to be cold at Christmas, and palm trees and sun and swimming pools confuse me. *g* And I think you're right, the baddies deserve some credit, even though they don't know what they've just got themselves into. *shakes head* Poor baddies. A Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you too!!  
**Alexa** - I don't know why you're having those feelings, really. I would never write tense, evil things, you know me... *evil gin* LOL, Legolas will have guilt-angst on top of the arm-angst? Well, you might be right there, of course - but I never said you are... *g* And I won't comment on the torture-angst. Nope, I won't. *scary grin* And whoever said that the twins would arrive and save they day? Most certainly not me...  
**Firnsarnien** - Hmm, yes, I guess so. But at least Celylith is safe! *g* I know, I know, but you're too late with your AGLF, you should have thought of it a little bit sooner, really... *evil grin* Sorry. And it's perfectly understandable, most elves are quite adorable, aren't they? And I admit that Galalith and Anardir fall under that category as well... LOL, 'to save Legolas' beautiful hide'? I know where the emphasis was in this one... *g*  
**Chrystal-Rose15** - Uhm, yes. It was an evil cliffy, you're right. You got me. I admit it, I'm evil. And one can say what one wants about your imagination, but it's right on that bit! Whatever happens is NOT a good thing, no... *g* And of course I updated before Christmas, as a present just for you! *hands over wrapped up chapter* Here you go! Merry Christmas! And I'm sorry, but there won't be any twins until chapter 12. Sorry. *smiles sheepishly*  
**Suzi9** - *iinnocently* What author are you talking about, Suzi dear? Certainly not me - I'm a good author! *g* I really love your Institutions/Foundations/whatnot, I was laughing very hard when I read your review. Well, howling with laughter would be more like it, but... *shrugs* Hope you got to your village on time and in one piece, and a very Merry Christmas to you! *huggles*  
**Karone Evertree** - So you read three chapters in a matter of an hour, not bad! *g* Thanks for reviewing every single one, I love getting review alerts, really... It's great you liked them, thanks a lot again for reviewing!  
**Mystic Girl1**- Ach, du meinst die netten Doggen von Theoden, nech? Ja, die fand ich auch ganz suess... *g* Und meine Schwester sagt gar nichts dazu, sie weiss es naemlich gar nicht. Ich habe keinem in meiner Familie erlaubt, die Geschichten auch wirklich zu lesen - gut ist das auch...Und du hast 'euer' Pferd also umgebracht? Na, das ist ja auch nicht so besonders nett wenn du mich fragst... *g* Tja, und Recht hast du. Der Plan der Finsterlinge geht auf - fuer jetzt jedenfalls. Wie lange das allerdings anhaelt: Wer kann das schon sagen? Und nein, ich sage nicht, wer der Lord im Hintergrund ist. Wirst schon noch ein bisschen warten muessen... *fieses Grinsen* Und Galalith ... UhichmussdringendwegTschuess? *g*  
**Nikara** - How did you know that? That Legolas' uninjured state wouldn't last long, I mean? Really, I have no idea... *evil grin* And you're quite right, things are beginning to get interesting...   
**Marbienl** - Yes, _of course_ there is! How dare you even ASK such a thing! My 'normal' self is normal and my other self is babbling and evil! Can't you see the difference? *shakes head* Really... Uhm, well, Rashwe got its name after the whole Cornallar episode, after it bit Elrohir, therefore 'Trouble'. And I think it only likes Legolas because it's, well, evil? *g* I know! It's horribly cold here as well! We haven't got any snow yet, but we rarely do this time of year - too bad, really. Galalith, well, what can I say ... UhmIgottagobye? Something like that? Yup, I think that's a good answer! And don't worry, Celylith is safe for the next few chapters, I promise. I am far too busy with Legolas and Aragorn, really... Oops, did I just say that out load? Ignore it, will you? *g*  
**SundiAndElven** - So you're two people? Or is Sundiata the other half or your personality? I surely hope not - we have too many schiuzophrenic people here already... *g* Great you like cliffies, there aren't too many people who do. I love writing them, but I guess it's a little bit different... It's great to hear that you liked my previous stories; I'm sure hoping you will like this one as well! Thanks for the review and a Merry Christmas to you too - if _you_ celebrate it...  
**Carla** - Uhm, na ja, was soll ich sagen ... Froehliche Weihnachten? *g* Ist natuerlich trotzdem schoen zu hoeren, dass es dir immer noch gefaellt - hmm, wahrscheinlich nicht mehr lange... Okay, ich muss jetzt schnell updaten, danke fuer die Review! *knuddel*  
  
**Okay, once again: A Merry Christmas to all of you! May you get many presents and have a wonderful day!! Emphasis on the first part, though... *g***  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Confirmed Fears

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Yes, yes, I KNOW. It was evil and mean and sadistic and lots of other things to kill Galalith. Trust me on this, I didn't enjoy it one bit either. Honestly. It just had to be done, because his death was the thing that inspired me to write this story in the first place. You'll see what I mean in the end - if I ever finish this story, something I am beginning to doubt more and more. These characters just don't shut up! I don't want to have more than thirty chapters in the end, and yet they refuse to do what I tell them! *shakes head* Bloody elves. They're doing this on purpose, I'm telling you.  
  
Okay, be that as it may, I hope you all had a lovely Christmas, if you celebrate it, that is. Mine was great, I got loads of wonderful books, dictionaries and the like, new computer games and, of course, *suppresses an excited squeal* the Ext. Version of TTT. *huggles DVD box* Wonderful present, yesss precioussss... *g*  
  
Oh, and I'm sorry for not updating yesterday, but I really was sick the last few days. Believe it or not, it started on the evening of the 24th and the next morning I woke up with the most wonderful cold you can imagine. It was a really wonderful way to spend the holidays - then again, it was an excuse to stay in bed all the time and read most of the new books I got. That's something, right?  
  
  
Very well, that was enough mindless blabber, I think, so, on to the chapter! And yes, it has Aragorn in it - I didn't know you would miss him so much after only a chapter! *g* So, we have him, he even gets a present (just fair, even if they don't celebrate Christmas in ME), Legolas has some innocent little conversations with various people during which he manages to antagonise _no-one_, of course (*g*), and, well, let's just say that bad news travel fast. *shrugs sadly* It's true.  
  
Enjoy and review, please!**  
  
  
  


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Chapter 9  
  
  
He was behaving like a sullen, stubborn child; no-one knew that better than he himself.  
  
Aragorn scowled at the wall of his room and turned around to walk back the way he had come, all the twenty-seven paces that separated him from the balcony doors. The young man had to suppress a small, wry smile. Yes, from the door to the balcony it was twenty-seven paces, and from the fireplace to the forth wall approximately eighteen. He wasn't sure about the exact distance yet since the bed was in the way, but the way things were going, he would be willing to walk right over it soon.  
  
The ranger reached the balcony doors, and with a shrug of his shoulders he opened them and stepped outside, taking a deep, still somewhat shaky breath when the cold assaulted him. He stopped at the low railing that encircled the small space, gripping the old, smooth wood with both hands while he stared at the snow-covered palace gardens. Usually, it brought him peace to sit here and watch the beautiful trees of the royal gardens, for they reminded him greatly of his own home, alike and yet so different that they were to the trees that could be found in Rivendell.  
  
But today, he mused silently, the trees brought him not the desired peace, nor happiness or any other emotion he craved. Today all they seemed to do was enhance and deepen the unease that had taken up permanent residence inside his heart.  
  
Aragorn didn't really know why he was having these feelings; no, that was not entirely correct, he knew why he was having them but not _why_. The dark haired human grinned darkly, eyes wandering over the dark gardens as if hoping to see something that would put his mind at ease. If he ever told his father something like this, Elrond would probably look at him with that unique, searching gaze of his before ordering the twins and Glorfindel to lock him into his room until he stopped talking such nonsense. Then he would probably send messages to the Lord and the Lady of Lórien, Gandalf and perhaps even Saruman the Wise, asking if they could think of anything that would make his human son act so peculiarly, and the whole thing would probably result in him being forced to drink many potions he had never before heard of or seen and hadn't had the desire to become aquainted with either.  
  
The young ranger grinned again. Legolas would probably react just like that as well and would do just the same except the unique, searching gaze. His friend would merely glare at him before dragging him to Hithrawyn if he knew him at all. And there he was at the source of his problems: Legolas. He knew why he was feeling so uneasy: Because Legolas had abandoned him here in this amazingly boring place to go and check on the patrols, but that didn't answer the question of _why_ he was having these feelings.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. He was of course aware of Legolas' ability to get himself and others into trouble, but he could honestly not think of anything that might threaten his friend now. He was merely travelling through Mirkwood, the woods of his home, and Aragorn could think only of two or three elves who knew their way around the forest better than his friend.   
  
With a frustrated growl he turned around and began pacing back and forth on his balcony, an activity that was neither particularly rewarding nor very effective since there was only enough space for a few steps into either direction. Legolas was probably right, the man reasoned darkly, maybe he was merely angry that he had been left behind like a child that was too young to look after itself.  
  
Deep down he knew of course that, for his elven friend, it had been the right and logical thing to do, since he was really not feeling that good if he was perfectly honest, but that did nothing to ease the feelings of frustration and fear in his heart. He would have felt a lot better had he been allowed to go with the elf, even though he would probably have frozen to his horse by now, considering the snow storm. Some of the other elves he had spoken to were already beginning to declare that this storm was among the fiercest Mirkwood had seen in a long time, and it was showing no signs of abating anytime soon.  
  
No, Legolas was probably not in more danger than during the past five weeks they had spent in the palace – no, to be honest, he was probably a lot safer. Right now, Aragorn was willing to admit that accidents and mishaps were commonplace when he and the elven prince were together for an extended period of time, even though he refused to admit that they were to blame in any way.   
  
Slowly, he was beginning to feel the cold, and the thought of what his brothers would say when they arrived here and found him sick prompted him to step back into the warm, cosy room that was lit by the dancing, flickering flames of the fire that blazed in the hearth. He smiled, the worry for his friend for a moment forgotten when thought of his brothers.   
He was greatly looking forward to seeing them again, even though he was rather sure that their reaction would be somewhat … irrational and definitely over-protective when they heard about even a third of the things that had happened during his stay here in Mirkwood, and he didn't even want to think of their reaction to their little "adventure" in Lake-town and Dale.  
  
Still, it would be wonderful to see them again, and he was looking forward to travelling home and seeing his father. He had very much missed Elrond, and no matter how much he enjoyed Legolas' and Celylith's company he was ready to admit that he was beginning to feel slightly homesick. Mirkwood might be beautiful in its own way, but for someone who had grown up in the openness and safety of Imladris it was a rather dark and oppressive place to be.  
  
A soft knock sounded on his door, ripping him out of his reverie and instantly renewing the worry in his heart. He didn't have his father's foresight, even though he knew that those of the royal house of Númenor did possess it as well, but not to the same degree. Whether it was indeed foresight he did not know, but he was having a bad feeling about all this, a bad feeling that was beginning to leave "bad" far behind and to border on "panicky".   
  
A few seconds later the doors opened, revealing one of the younger lieutenants that were guarding the gates. His name was … Erelas, yes that was it. He had been one of the warriors that had been chosen – or, as those elves had probably termed it, condemned – to accompany them on the rather ill-fated hunting trip, and Aragorn had spoken to him once or twice, coming to the conclusion that he was a kind if somewhat reserved and introvert person.  
  
"Erelas," he greeted the dark haired elf who was stepping into the room, a large package under one of his arms. "Is something the matter?"  
  
The elf looked confused for a moment but began to smile when he understood what the human meant.  
"No, Strider, everything is fine. We have had no word from the prince, but that doesn't mean anything. He will be back tomorrow anyway, so he wouldn't need to send a message unless there was something wrong."  
  
Aragorn smiled ruefully, inviting the other to step closer which he did, closing the large, dark wooden doors behind him.  
"I guess it is a good sign then. I am merely feeling uneasy, but that might be because I still expect Hithrawyn to appear and drag me back to that prison he calls a healing wing."  
  
"So it is true then!" The elf arched a dark eyebrow in mocking surprise. "He has released you."  
  
"Oh yes," the young ranger shrugged, sitting down on his bed and motioning Erelas to sit down in an armchair next to the fireplace. Before he had even realised what he was doing, he had begun fiddling with the edges of the finely woven blanket that lay atop the others. "He released me about two hours ago, even though he looked rather unhappy about it. He really wanted me to stay for another two days!"  
  
"So you are feeling well?" the other inquired suspiciously. He too knew that the twin sons of Elrond would be arriving in a few days, and he also knew what would happen to all of them if the dark haired elves' human brother was ill because of their negligence and ignorance of human ailments. And he imagined that the members of the patrol that had not been there to help when Strider and Prince Legolas had had their last "accident" would be first on the twins' list.  
  
"Yes," Aragorn assured the elf in a long-suffering tone of voice and rolled his eyes. He was beginning to suspect that his brothers had threatened some of Mirkwood's warriors with death, dismemberment or other equally unpleasant things should they not make sure that their little brother was unscathed when they returned. "Yes, I am well. I am merely a little restless, that's all."  
  
Erelas once again arched that dubious eyebrow of his, causing the young human to suspect yet another thing, namely that his father had taught him to do that. There were quite a few of the Lord of Rivendell's mannerisms that various other elves were beginning to adapt, among them dubious-eyebrow-arching, derisive-snorting and threatening-_looking_. The latter was something no-one but Elrond's immediate family ever succeeded in, something that filled Aragorn with a substantial amount of satisfaction.  
  
Aragorn adopted said _look _and merely looked at the dark haired elf who soon had to avert his eyes, something that increased the man's gleeful feelings even more. No matter how many times he managed to do this, he was always feeling immense pride at making one of the Firstborn avert his or her eyes.  
  
Erelas looked down at the stone floor and noticed the large package he had put down next to the armchair. With a quick headshake he grabbed it and offered it to Aragorn, who took it with a puzzled expression on his face.  
  
"What is this? It is not yet _Yestarë_, is it?"  
  
The dark haired elf rolled his eyes, wondering once again how this human managed to annoy him so easily.  
"No, Master Human, it is not. Winter Solstice is in two months, as you well know. This arrived earlier today with some human merchants from Dale. They asked it to be delivered to you, and since you were still in the healing wing when it arrived, I thought I'd bring it to you now."  
  
"Dale?" Aragorn asked, the frown on his face deepening.  
  
"Yes," Erelas nodded seriously. "It is a human town to the north, right next to the Lonely Mountain. Bard is king there, I believe."  
  
For a moment, the man wasn't sure if the elf was joking or not – something particularly hard to determine with Erelas who hardly allowed his emotions to show on his face – but then he decided that no-one could _not _have heard of their journey to Dale a few weeks ago. Everyone knew that he and Legolas knew perfectly well where Dale was – and were unlikely to ever forget it.  
  
"You forgot to mention that the Celduin has its source there," he offered with a wry smile as he began to unwrap the parcel.   
  
For a moment he wondered if King Bard had finally decided to send him a note forbidding him ever to enter his realm again, something that wouldn't have surprised the ranger at all. But then again, he reasoned, a simple letter would have sufficed to inform him of that, and somehow he didn't believe that the regal king of Dale would send him such a package. It was rather large and soft and wrapped in rough, tanned leather that was secured with coarse rope. No, this did not look like something from Dale at all, rather like something…  
  
The leather fell off, and Aragorn stared at the contents of the parcel. It looked like a … fur, a large brown fur that was thick and fluffy and familiar. Disconcertingly familiar. He stared at it for a few moments, not really able to understand why someone would send him a fur, when the elf bent down and took up something that had fallen down when he had dropped the leather to the ground.  
  
Silently Aragorn accepted the letter Erelas offered him, and when he unfolded the piece of parchment that was covered with dwarven runes, he began to smile widely, the pieces suddenly falling into place and beginning to make sense. The message was merely a few lines long, and even though Aragorn was not truly fluent in the reading this particular script, he understood the runes' meaning well enough.  
  
He began to chuckle softly and, without thinking, handed the note to the elf next to him before turning his attention back to the fur. It was a bear's skin, carefully prepared, and when one knew where to look, one could even see the slashes that marred it – slashes he had put there himself.  
  
Aragorn's smile widened. Of course he knew this fur, for he had killed the bear which it had belonged to himself. Granted, it hadn't been his choice – one thing he had learned from his brothers long ago was to never hunt a bear on your own – and the beast had nearly killed him in return, but there had been nothing else he could have done. It was in fact not something he enjoyed remembering, especially not the darkness and narrowness of the cave he associated with this particular memory, but, somehow, it was made easier by seeing this fur.  
  
Next to him, Erelas was eyeing the piece of parchment he held with a mixture of loathing, curiosity and disbelief. While Aragorn was examining the fur further, spreading it out on his bed, the elf examined the note, looking at it as if it was the carrier of a mysterious, contagious disease.  
  
"It is from … from the Dwarves," he finally said, turning unbelieving eyes on the ranger. "I think you should burn the fur; you never know where it has been before now."  
  
"What?" Aragorn blinked slowly and turned to look at the elf. "Burn it? Why should I? It is perfectly alright, besides, it has some sentimental value for me and the prince as well. Kind Dáin was most kind to send it here."  
  
There is was again, the man thought wryly, the dubiously arched eyebrow.  
  
"If you say so, Strider," Erelas said, his eyes returning to the message. "What does this say? Is it truly a fount?"  
  
"Yes, Master Elf," Aragorn assured him, biting back a large grin. "It is. And, essentially, it says that they thought I would like their little gift and reminds me to eat a lot of red meat and to finally accept that elves are arrogant creatures and that visiting Durin's Folk is both more amusing and more conducive to my mental health."  
  
The elf's eyes widened in outrage, all his former reserve gone in an instant.  
"Red meat? _Arrogant??_"  
  
"I am sure they didn't mean it quite like that," Aragorn was quick to add. "Master Frór, the one who sent the message, is sometimes a little quick with his words and speaks a little hastily."  
  
"As do all of their kind," Erelas muttered darkly. "Nothing but stunted, presumptuous, irritating little cave-dwellers, the whole lot of them."  
  
Aragorn decided to ignore the comment, knowing that there was nothing he could say to change the other's mind. Silvan Elves were not exactly known for their open-mindedness, and the fact that Erelas spoke to him as an equal was already not entirely usual for one of his kind. It wasn't that all of Mirkwood's residents looked upon him with distrust and disdain of course, probably thanks to his ties to the Lord of Rivendell and his family, even though there were definitely some who did. No, but most of the elves were clearly not used to talking to mortals of any sort, and were always treating him as if he were a child or some sort of less intelligent creature. The young ranger was rather sure that they didn't act like that out of malice or contempt; they simply did not know how else to treat him. Still, it was beginning to get on his nerves, especially when he was alone as he was now.  
  
The dark haired elf seemed to sense that his last comment had unsettled the man, and so he added carefully, obviously unhappy about his own words,  
  
"Yet I am sure that your … friend," Erelas was unable to mask the suspicion and disbelief in his voice, "is not as bad as the others. His comments sound even rather … rational. For a dwarf, that is."  
  
Aragorn had to hide a small smile at the other's words. He knew what it had cost the elf to say something like this, and he appreciated Erelas' attempt not to hurt his feelings by insulting any of his friends, even if they were dwarves.  
"Very diplomatic, Master Erelas. Those were the most courteous words I have heard in these halls about any dwarf for a long time."  
  
The elf shrugged, giving Aragorn a slight grin.  
"My father is one of the king's envoys and leaves for diplomatic missions very often. I have long since learnt to … well, to sugar-coat certain facts, even if I do totally not agree with what I say."  
  
"And you became a warrior?" the ranger asked. "Was your father very pleased about that?"  
  
"Not really," Erelas admitted with another small grin. "However, I thought it a slightly more … honest occupation, and besides, I have found out many years ago that it is very hard to please your father completely, no matter what you do."  
  
Aragorn nodded his head in agreement and stood to his feet, the now folded fur under his arm, when his guest rose to leave. How hard it was to believe that this was all that was left of the creature that had nearly taken his life not even two months ago, but in some ways, it really was something of a relief to see the bear's skin. Somehow, it was easier to deal with the claustrophobic memories that still overcame him from time to time when he had such a visual reminder of what he had already overcome.  
  
"You are right, Master Elf; that is my experience as well," he smiled at the other, walking him over to the door.  
  
Erelas returned the smile and was just about to say something, one hand already on the doors' handles, when a sudden commotion could be heard outside. Even through the thick dark wood that separated them from the corridor loud shouting could be heard as well as questions that were never answered, and many running feet that were heading into the direction of the nearest staircase.  
  
Aragorn swallowed hard, his heart doing a somersault in his chest. These were the Halls of Mirkwood, home of King Thranduil who didn't enjoy things as commotions in the slightest. If the regal and proud Wood-elves behaved like this, it could only mean that…  
  
Elf and man looked at each other, the same fear reflected in bright blue and silver eyes, and without a word the doors were pushed open as both of them left the room and joined the multitude of elves that were already moving into the direction of the courtyard, the direction from where most of the unrest seemed to originate.  
  
The bear's fur fell to the ground, instantly forgotten by its owner as the shouts of disbelief and horror grew louder and the Palace of Mirkwood was thrown into such a chaos as it had not seen for a long, long time.  
  
  
  
  
Legolas couldn't believe how much had changed in the past few hours; his mind was truly having problems grasping what had happened since he had met with Anardir and Galalith.  
  
It was really quite amazing, he thought darkly, one moment he was talking to his friends, the next he was here, wherever _here _was exactly. He had of course paid attention to the route they had taken, but it was really quite hard to make out landmarks and things like that in the snowstorm that was still raging, and so all the elf could say for sure was that they had were somewhere to the south of where he had been taken. They were still rather close to the forest's edge, but not close enough so they would reach it this night, not at the pace they were travelling in at the moment at least.   
  
The horse he was sitting on – or, to be more precise, had been put on, as he had to admit to his shame – stumbled yet again, making Legolas wish for his own horse now more than ever before. With Rashwe he might even have a chance of escape or would at least have the satisfaction of watching the men cringe under the animal's glares, but how this mare had previously carried anything heavier than an elf was truly beyond his understanding.  
  
The elven prince shook his head minutely and returned his full attention to his surroundings, all the while trying to loosen the bonds that secured his hands behind his back, even though he already knew that it was futile. He had been bound often enough in his life – far too often now that he thought about it – to know when the person who had bound him had known what he was doing, and the man who had tied these knots had very obviously known it perfectly well. The ropes hadn't moved even an inch since he had started to work on them some hours ago, and they didn't give the appearance of doing so in the near future either.  
  
Legolas turned his head slightly to the side, his eyes having no trouble piercing the darkness that had fallen some time ago. He was truly surrounded like a caught warg, a comparison that would most probably have amused him under any other circumstances. He was riding in the middle of the men's troupe, with two guards to his right and two guards to his left. The humans were either afraid of him or clever enough not to give him the slightest chance to escape, and if he thought of the man who was in command, he had to admit that probably the latter was the case.  
  
The fair haired elf kept his eyes fixed on the back of the man who rode in front of him, all his other senses alert and poised to escape. Since they had left the small clearing several hours ago, not one of the men had spoken to him or spoken at all, something that both pleased and unsettled the elf. It pleased him since he really was not in the mood to listen to these men's mindless talk, but he had learned in the years he had already lived that most humans loved to gloat and boast – it even appeared to be in their nature – and the fact that these ones seemed to feel no inclination to do either was not a good sign. They were behaving like professionals, as if they knew perfectly well what they were doing, and that made them a lot more dangerous than your average group of human poachers or highwaymen.  
  
These thoughts brought Legolas back to the question that had never been far from his mind in the past few hours: What in the name of all the Valar wanted these humans from him? Why had they attacked them? Did they know who he was? Was this a kidnapping, a way to force his father into making some sort of concession?  
  
Legolas bit back a low growl of annoyance. He simply did not know, and if these humans were going to remain as silent as they were now, he wouldn't find out either. The only thing he knew was that these people had wanted him – or another elf for that matter – and had wanted him very badly. No-one travelled into Mirkwood, attacked one of the elven patrols, incurred the Elvenking's wrath and then even captured an elf just for the fun of it. These men had to be either desperate or stupid, and yet they seemed to be neither. From the way the human captain had behaved, Reran, yes, that was his name, he could have sworn that he wasn't the sort of person who acted out of desperation. Reran appeared to know exactly what he was doing, and if Legolas had to voice his feelings, he would say that he was obeying orders – which put this whole thing onto an entirely new level, of course…  
  
The elven prince forced his thoughts off that topic which wouldn't get him anywhere without more information to work with, and before he could stop himself, his mind had jumped to another topic, namely the welfare of the two elves he had sent away.  
  
Legolas bit down on his lip, still trying to pay attention to his surroundings and finding it increasingly difficult as the emotional turmoil in his heart increased. Both of them had been injured when he had last seen them, as had been Rashwe, and he was beginning to see that Reran had been right when he had said that the two of them wouldn't make it to the next patrol in time to get help. He didn't know how badly Anardir had been hurt, but one hadn't needed to be a healer to see that Galalith's injury had been a very bad one.  
  
The elf bit down harder on his lip, doing his best to keep the emotions that warred in his chest off his face; the last thing he needed now was that his mysterious captors saw how he was truly feeling. Why had Galalith done it? Why had he pushed him out of the way and taken the arrow that had been meant for him?  
  
Before Legolas had even finished that thought, a small voice in his head answered the question he had asked himself: Because it had been his duty. It had been his duty because he was the other elf's superior and his prince, and that thought was enough to make Legolas feel sick.   
  
He knew of course that people protected him and treated him differently because he was his father's son and the heir to the throne of Mirkwood, one only had to take a look at Celylith. He also knew that every time he had gone into battle with the warriors of his father – especially when he had been younger and less experienced – he had been surrounded by the most experienced captains of the guard, captains that had the explicit orders to do anything in their power to make sure that he survived and were willing to follow them, too.  
  
Still, it was different in battle than it was in a situation like this. In battle you hardly had the time to notice the identity of the one who had just killed the orc who had been trying to sneak up on you from behind or something of that sort, let alone thank him properly, yet this time it was all different. Galalith had not only helped him or saved him from death or injury, he had consciously put his life above his own and had – perhaps – given his life so that he may live…  
  
Legolas' mind shied away from the thoughts as if they were scalding hot. No, Galalith would not die, and neither would Anardir – or Rashwe, for that matter. The two of them would get back to the palace, and Hithrawyn would make sure they survived so he could thank them and especially Galalith for what they had done once he got himself out of this mess.  
  
And, by the Valar, he _would _get out of this mess and would teach these arrogant humans just what happened when one attacked Mirkwood's warriors.  
  
He concentrated on the thoughts of what he would do to these people when he finally got free, and just when he had thought of the thirteenth possibility to kill them, this one eliciting a rather dark grin, the men in front of him stopped, causing his animal to halt as well.  
  
Legolas looked up, straining his eyesight to discern the reason for the sudden halt. First he could see nothing much in the darkness through the still heavily falling snow, but when he concentrated harder he saw that they had reached a small clearing, small enough not to be easily seen but large enough for a group of twenty-two people and their horses, if they were more on the skinny side, that was.  
  
Another dark, this time definitely satisfied grin spread on the elf's face. Indeed, there were twenty-one men with him, and he was seriously expecting two of them not to see the coming day. He had killed seven men earlier today, and while he would have felt guilty under any other circumstances for killing even one of the Second People, he only had to think of Galalith's pale, unconscious face and the arrow he had taken for him for that feeling to die in his chest as if it had never existed. These men deserved what they had got, every single one of them.  
  
Around them, the humans were already dismounting and beginning to lead their horses to the one side of the glade, yet his guards didn't move an inch. Legolas sighed inwardly. The more he saw of these people, the more he came to accept that he was dealing with professionals, a fact that had quite a few of decidedly uncomfortable side-effects.  
  
Most humans had already disappeared, and Legolas was already beginning to wonder if his captors intended to let him stay here in this spot, on horseback – something that would give him most probably less trouble than his guards – when a man stepped out of the swirling snow masses that had hidden him until he had been less than fifteen feet away.  
  
Legolas clenched his jaw and tried not to betray any emotion at all. It was that … that man he could have killed earlier, closely followed by another, who, for a split second, reminded the elf eerily of Aragorn. It took him only a few moments to realise that the human was too broadly built and too small to be his human friend (who, Ilúvatar willing, was still safely back at the palace), but on first glance he looked much like him. No, Legolas thought, the other's skin was a little too dark, his hair was too black and his eyes were more of a dark blue than grey. Besides, he had never before seen Aragorn wear such a dark, smug grimace, not even when he was truly irritated with him or his elven brothers.  
  
Teonvan stopped in front of the elf's horse and eyed his captive with a grin and a rather disconcerting gleam in his eyes which the fair haired being either missed or ignored superiorly. The blonde elf seemed to stare right through him as if he was nothing more than an insect that didn't deserve his attention, something that filled the man with both anticipation and blazing fury. He really would need to teach this one a lesson…  
  
"You really are a tad arrogant, aren't you, elf?" he asked in a friendly tone of voice, as if they were old acquaintances who were having a nice little chat. "You really think you're better than we, do you?"  
  
The elf cocked his head to the side, eyeing the dark haired man with a mildly interested expression on his face and at the same time displaying the blossoming bruises that covered both cheeks. He studied the men that stood in front of him for a moment, before obviously dismissing them as unimportant and redirecting his attention to the tree that was standing to the right of them.  
  
For a moment, Cendan who was standing right behind his superior didn't know whether he should be hiding a grin or feel indignation. The fact that the elf had dismissed them just like that didn't sit well with him at all, but then again, he had looked at Teonvan, not at him. Everyone who dismissed Teonvan could be sure of at least a bit of his sympathy.  
  
Apparently, Teonvan was having no such problems and solved the question of how he should feel about the elf's actions in matter of seconds. Before Cendan had even fully realised what was happening, the dark haired man had stepped closer to the horse that was still being flanked right and left by two riders and had grabbed one of the elf's bound arms. The captive didn't offer any resistance when the man dragged him down from the animal, knowing full well that he would only end up face first in the snow if he did.  
  
A second later, Teonvan was staring at the fair haired elf's face who could have been relaxing next to a brightly burning fire with his friends and family, so calm and composed were his face and stature. The man grabbed the elven prince's arm more tightly, glaring at him with bright eyes that were gleaming with a decidedly unhealthy-looking fire as his fingers burrowed into the cut another man's knife had left there.  
"Was there anything you wanted to say, elf?"  
  
Legolas shortly contemplated if he could make his situation any worse by answering, and, studying the man's dark, cold eyes, came to the quick decision that yes, there were many ways in which he could make his situation worse right now. But still, he wouldn't let this human think he had frightened him in any way.  
  
"Many things, human," he replied in a low, dark voice. "Most of which I would gladly demonstrate to you if you would cut me loose and give me back my weapons. Or," he added with a short, taxing look at Teonvan, "if you would just cut me loose. That should do."  
  
This time, Cendan didn't have to ponder whether he should be hiding a grin or not. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand, at the same time glaring at the other four men who were beginning to grin as well. He could understand their feelings of course, Teonvan was popular with no-one here except his own lieutenants, but he didn't condone open disrespect either. The men quickly lowered their heads and began to lead their horses off into the direction of the other animals, careful not to show the amusement on their faces.   
  
Teonvan, however, didn't appear to be amused at all. Legolas watched the dark haired man's face with detached interest, noticing with faint amusement how its colour turned a dark red in a matter of seconds. While the elf was still contemplating whether the colour would reach a dark purple or the human commander would suffer a stroke first – to be perfectly honest, he was hoping for the latter – the man had drawn a short, thoroughly evil-looking knife and brought it uncomfortable close to his captive's face.  
  
"You should learn one thing very quickly, elf," he hissed, working obviously very hard to regain some semblance of composure. "No-one speaks to me in this matter. No-one. If you don't get that idea soon, things will get a lot more unpleasant for you than they are now. Understood?"  
  
The fair haired elf didn't even give the knife that was moving rather close to his neck a single glance, his eyes fixed on the face of the man in front of him. He knew it wasn't an intelligent thing to antagonise this human, but his pride forbade him to comply with his orders. Legolas bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to let too much of the loathing he already felt for this man show on his face. He would _not _do what this man wanted from him, and even if it was something as trivial as answering a question!  
  
Teonvan's face adopted an even more interesting colour, this time a shade somewhere between scarlet and black-blue (Legolas hadn't known that a human's face could even turn such a colour without lasting brain damage) and the hand that was holding the knife was beginning to tremble slightly and move even closer to the prince's neck, when a short, exasperated-sounding cough could be heard behind them.  
  
Startled, the dark haired commander turned, spinning Legolas around with him, to lock eyes with Cendan who was just unsuccessfully hiding a long-suffering frown. The lieutenant stared at the other man, his eyes void of expression and his face carefully neutral.  
"Captain Reran is waiting, sir," he said. "Our orders stated explicitly that…"  
  
"I know what our orders are, _Lieutenant_," Teonvan snapped and glowered at the man who simply looked back at him, apparently not very much impressed.  
  
He returned the knife to its sheath, looking quite unhappy and dissatisfied though, and gave his elven prisoner a last, dark glare which the elf returned just as darkly before giving Cendan a curt nod.  
"Alright, boy. Lead the way then."  
  
Cendan returned the nod, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth, and with a jerky movement that spoke of suppressed anger he turned around and disappeared in the swirling snow masses. Teonvan followed him, his hand gripping Legolas' arm tightly, still shadowed left and right by two of the men who were to remain his guards for the rest of the evening.  
  
After a few more seconds they reached the middle of the clearing, and Legolas realised to his disappointment that the men intended to keep him exactly here for the rest of the evening. He suppressed a tired sigh. So much for his plan to get away from these people as soon as everybody but the guards had gone to sleep; apparently they were indeed much more intelligent than he would have liked. But then again, he added with an inner, dark grin, they _had _ambushed him and his men, they couldn't be that intelligent.  
  
The dark haired man who was still holding onto his arm with enough force to nearly make it splinter into tiny little pieces pushed him forward, making Legolas clench his teeth again. He did not enjoy being pushed around by random people, and yet exactly that was what had been happening to him in the past few years almost non-stop. Coincidently, it had almost exactly been since the time he had first met Aragorn…  
  
Before he could follow that train of thought any further, they stopped, Legolas who stood on top of the snow being in stark contrast to the men who were almost to their knees buried in loose, white snow, and the elf looked up to see the men's captain walk up to them, an expression on his face that was unreadable.  
  
Reran stopped in front of their prisoner, giving Teonvan who was still gripping the elf's arm rather unnecessarily tightly a barely masked look of disgust.  
"So, Master Elf, are we feeling a bit more reasonable now?"  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes and shortly thought about telling the man just _how _reasonable he was feeling, but quickly decided against it. He was still not that apt at judging humans' characters, but if he had learned one thing it was that this was not a man to be trifled with.  
"Why did you attack us, human? What do you want from me?" he retorted, fixing steely eyes on the man.  
  
Reran ignored Legolas' question just as the elf had ignored his, running a calloused hand through his hair to get rid of the snow that coated it a ghostly white.  
"For now, only your co-operation," he answered, giving his second-in-command a hard look. "We have a long journey ahead of us, a journey which can get rather unpleasant for all of us if you insist on making a fuss. But one thing you should remain aware of, elf, and that is that in that case things will get much more unpleasant for you than they could ever get for us."  
  
Legolas' eyes narrowed even more and his body stiffened slightly, causing Teonvan to grip him even more tightly. The elven prince ignored the ever-growing pain in his injured arm and looked darkly at the human captain.  
"Who are you to threaten me in the realm of my people? The king will hear about this, and none of you will escape his wrath that will descend on you for attacking one of his patrols, that I promise you!"  
  
Reran almost rolled his eyes again, a rather undignified habit he was beginning to adapt to his mild alarm.  
"Your king will not find you, elf, if he starts looking for you in the first place. And if he should and finds you in the end, he will have much more pressing problems than killing me or my men, trust me."  
  
Legolas simply looked at him with dark, angry eyes, and Reran gave a short sigh, shrugging slightly.  
"Very well then, have it your way, elf. But I'd advise you not to try and escape; I can get quite unreasonable if the need arises."  
  
The prince bit back a sarcastic remark that would even have made one of the twins proud and merely continued giving the human a fairly decent version of Lord Elrond's _look_, seeing to his satisfaction that Reran averted his eyes to give the other man who had reminded him of Aragorn only a few moments ago a dark look of his own. Not bad, he decided inwardly, but not nearly as nice as the _look_.  
  
"You are responsible for him, Cendan," Reran informed the man curtly. "If there are any problems, any at all," he stressed with a pointed look at Teonvan, "I want to be informed immediately. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the younger man nodded obediently.  
  
"Good," Reran replied. "The same rules as yesterday apply. The first man to disobey them will be remaining here – permanently – as a little something for his," he jerked his head into his prisoner's direction, "friends when they finally think of coming this way. I hope I have made myself clear."  
  
"Yes, sir," Cendan repeated himself. "I doubt anyone will forget it."  
  
"Oh," Reran grumbled, turning around to give his second-in-command a friendly, absolutely forced smile, "It happens. Sometimes there are indeed some … misunderstandings, and that is the exact reason why Commander Teonvan and I need to have a word. You are in charge until we return."  
  
With a short nod into Cendan's direction he took a step closer to Teonvan, who unwillingly let go of Legolas' arm, making the elf suppress a sigh of relief. Reran waited impatiently for the other man to precede him, and in a matter of seconds the two of them were disappearing between the snow-covered trees, quickly hidden by the swirling curtain of white flakes that were still floating ceaselessly to the ground.  
  
Cendan's blue-grey eyes followed the two figures, who was, for a moment, entertaining the truly attractive vision of Teonvan not returning at all, before he shook his head and turned to face the fair haired elf. The blonde being merely looked at him with an expression of mild annoyance, as if this whole situation was nothing but a slight inconvenience for him, and Cendan felt how his temper flared up. The man took a step forward and grabbed the captive by his arm, pushing him forward with enough force to throw him hard onto the ground.  
  
"You will stay here," he told the elf and ignored his dark, positively burning look. "If you don't try to escape we won't have any trouble at all this night – otherwise, I might inform Commander Teonvan so the two of you can finish your little discussion. Understood?"  
  
The elf's eyes never left Cendan's face as he sat up a little, seeming totally unperturbed by the cold snow he was sitting on.  
"It seems to me that that would be something you and your men would lament more than I would, Cendan. In fact, I am rather sure about it."  
  
The dark haired man's eyes narrowed and he leaned a little closer, studying the elf's mocking, bruised face intently. Had he really shown his disgust for the other man so openly or had it been something only the prisoner's sharp eyes had seen?  
"You see much, elf; perhaps a little too much. I would hold my tongue if I were you, or you might find out that too much knowledge can lead to a sudden, painful death. Accidents can happen even to those our lord wants alive."  
  
Cendan turned abruptly with a curt order to the two men who were still standing behind Legolas, silent as shadows and just as emotionless. The two of them drew a little closer to their prisoner as their superior walked away, careful to keep him in plain sight as they sat down on two large, snow-covered stones a few feet away from him. The other men kept a slight distance from them but still drew a tight circle around them, limiting Legolas' chances of escape even further.  
  
Some time later Reran and Teonvan returned, the latter appearing both subdued and angry, and soon after that the camp became quiet as the men tried to find some rest as best as they could in the cold, wet snow. Legolas kept watching them and especially his two guards and the other one that was posted close to the horses, but had to admit to himself some hours after midnight that it was hopeless. The men were indeed professionals and showed no sign of tiring or letting down their guard. And even if they did, he reasoned darkly, he would still have to get past all the other men, past the guard next to the horses and to a horse, not to mention out of the camp.  
  
Sighing inwardly, the elven prince leaned back a bit as he tried to find a comfortable position, something that soon proved nearly impossible with his hands bound behind his back and his body throbbing and aching from the fight and the blows he had received at Teonvan's hands. For a moment, he was greatly reminded of a similar situation, not too far away on the slopes of the Lonely Mountains not too long ago. But no, he thought with a certain sense of relief, this time it was much better. He didn't have Aragorn with him, and wasn't forced to watch or listen as his young friend was hurt…  
  
Legolas' thoughts quickly left that topic for it only reminded him of things he rather wished to forget, not to mention of Anardir and Galalith, who _had _been hurt when he had last seen them, and before he could think of something unpleasant – such as that he was the captive of some unknown humans, two of which already wanted to kill him slowly and painfully for all the knew – he thought about what he had learned since his small and rather unproductive talk with the humans' captain.  
  
Essentially, he decided, it were three things. First, that the men wanted to bring him somewhere far from here, to their lord. That, he thought wryly, didn't help him much since he had already guessed as much from their earlier behaviour. Second, that they needed him alive, which was equally as unsurprising, but reassuring nonetheless. Third, and that was the biggest discovery yet, that they didn't know who he was. If they had known that he was the king's son they would never have suggested that his father would not come looking for him. It was a fact that greatly pleased him. He didn't really know how the men or their lord would react if they found out that he was the Prince of Mirkwood, but to be perfectly honest, he didn't really want to find out either.   
  
Other than these facts, he had also found out that neither Reran nor the younger man, Cendan, liked Teonvan; that was something that might be useful later. He would certainly remember it, even though he doubted that these people would let such petty animosities affect their professional behaviour.  
  
Oh, he thought sarcastically a second later, there was also the fact that Aragorn had apparently rubbed off on him. He didn't seem to possess the ability to remain silent when it counted anymore, but then again, Celylith had always claimed that he had never possessed it in the first place…  
  
The elf directed his gaze to the starless heavens, doing his best to suppress the fear and apprehension he felt. He really hoped one of the other patrols had found Anardir and Galalith and had made sure that both of them got back to the palace, and when he was perfectly honest he wouldn't even mind some help himself right now.  
  
Legolas consciously relaxed his body and let his mind release its hold of these troublesome thoughts. Just as he forced himself to drift off into a light, dreamlike state, a dark voice inside his head telling him that he would need all the strength he could get during these next few days, he smiled slightly when a sudden thought struck him.  
  
He pitied his father who would have to convince Aragorn to stay in the palace and not ride out to look for him in the dead of night as he would want to, reckless human that he was.  
  
  
  
  
The courtyard of Mirkwood's palace was in such a state as it hadn't been in for many years, and Aragorn had honestly never believed to see something like this here.  
  
An objective observer would have described it as chaos, and that was something that scared the young ranger even more than the various rumours that had begun to spread, one of them worse and more unlikely than the last. When Aragorn finally managed to push his way through the elves that were crowding outside, he got there just in time to see some elves disappear into the other direction – into the direction of the healing wing.  
  
The dark green robe of one of them caught his attention, and when the elf disappeared inside, his golden hair quickly hidden by the mass of anxious elves that were still filling most of the courtyard, Aragorn realised who it was: Thranduil.  
  
A sinking, horrible feeling began to spread in his stomach. What was the king doing here? It wasn't the Elvenking's usual behaviour to greet someone in the courtyard, that was what the audience chambers were for after all, and the fact that he had come here in a matter of seconds and was already on his way to the healing wing with several other elves could only mean that…  
  
The young ranger's eyes travelled quickly about the whispering elves around him to come to rest on some horses that seemed to be on the brink of exhaustion. He looked a little closer and felt how his heart fell straight into his stomach when he realised that there was a white, slightly gleaming horse among them he knew only too well: Rashwe. The animal was looking dejected and sad, and there was a broad strip of a dark, crusted substance on one of its hind legs.  
  
He hadn't thought it possible, but the fear and anxiety in his heart even intensified, their icy tendrils spreading inside his chest and threatening to cut off his breathing. Blood. That was blood. Blood on Legolas' horse.  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath, automatically fighting against the tickling sensation in his lungs that would need some more days to disappear entirely, and with a few, quick steps he was next to the elf who was holding Rashwe's reins, apparently at a loss what to do. The young man reached out and grabbed the elf's shoulder, turning him around so he could see his face.  
  
"What happened? Where is the prince?"  
  
The elf merely looked at him with empty, shocked eyes, not really noticing that the man was still gripping his shoulder. Under normal circumstances the Firstborn didn't enjoy being touched by strangers, the Silvan Elves even more so than others, but this elven warrior was apparently far beyond such trivialities.  
  
"We don't know," he shook his head, confusion plain to see on his fair face. "He's not here. We don't know anything. They took Anardir to the healers and Galalith…"  
  
"What?" Aragorn asked impatiently when the elf trailed off. "What about Galalith?"  
  
The young elf lowered his eyes and merely shook his head, but that simple gesture hit the human like a blow to the stomach.  
"Dead? He is ... dead?" he whispered unbelievingly. "But how … where …"  
  
The other refused to meet the ranger's eyes again, his voice soft and emotionless as his body shook with suppressed grief.  
"Commander Anondil can answer your questions, Strider. He went with the king and the others to the healing wing. I know nothing more."  
  
A cold shiver raced across Aragorn's back as he looked at the pale, drawn face of the elf in front of him. He gave him a slight nod that the other probably didn't even notice and released his shoulder, beginning to push through the elves that had amassed in the courtyard. Some senior commanders of the guard and some of the king's advisors had already begun to disperse the crowd that slowly and reluctantly began to drift apart, and when Aragorn reached the top of the stairs that led back into the palace a few moments later, most of the elves were already heading back to where they had come from, and the horses were being led away into the direction of the stables.  
  
The man reached the open doors and turned sharply to the left, hurrying down the corridor he knew only too well. No matter how much he tried to calm his breathing and his wildly beating heart he felt how his anxiety grew and reached new, improbably high levels, and he couldn't even begin to process all the thoughts and questions that flittered through his head. What in the name of the One had happened out there? As far as he knew Galalith and Anardir had left the palace some days ago to join a patrol, somewhere to the south…   
  
What was left of his composure promptly disintegrated when he realised the meaning of what he had just thought. Anardir and Galalith had been part of a patrol to the south. Legolas had left the palace early this morning to check on the patrols to the south. And now Galalith was dead…  
  
Grief wrapped itself around his heart and mingled with the terror he was beginning to feel. Galalith who had reminded him so much of his brothers was dead, and he would never be able to teach him how to pitch a tent as he had promised. A bit of shock flittered through him when he thought about what the dark haired elf's death would do to Anardir. He didn't believe that the blonde elf would be able to bear it, and to think that not only one but two elves would leave this world forever when there were already so few left… He shook his head in denial. By Elbereth, he had told Legolas that this wasn't a good idea, hadn't he? He had told him to be careful, he should have gone with him instead on staying and letting Hithrawyn have his way…  
  
By the time he had reached the healing wing, his thoughts and feelings were in turmoil, and on that fact he would later blamed his behaviour when faced with a pair of stern elven warriors. The two of them were posted in front of the great wooden doors that led to Hithrawyn's sanctuary, and both were less than inclined to let him pass.  
  
"You cannot go in, _dúnadan_," the right one told him, his voice not unkind, but enough force hidden in it to make his intentions clear not to let anyone open these doors.  
  
Aragorn blinked in mild surprise, not really having realised that two elves were standing in front of him in his rather preoccupied state of mind.  
"I do not have time for this," he said after a moment and shook his head unwillingly. "Let me pass."  
  
Neither of the two made a move to comply, and the guard to the left gave him a thin smile of sympathy.  
"I know how you feel, Estel, but we cannot. No-one is allowed to enter by order of the king."  
  
The man narrowed his eyes, and the elf had to avoid the fierce silver glare full of fear and anger that threatened to burn right through his own eyes into his very soul.  
  
"You do not know how I feel," Aragorn protested in a low voice and took a slow step forward. Guilt flickered quickly over his face and was hidden just as quickly as it had come. "You have no idea," he emphasised. "And now I would advise you to step aside. I am not in the mood for games like these and I would hate to provoke an incident between the Realm of Mirkwood and that of Rivendell, or between the Wood-elves and the Dúnedain of the North. I may not know what is happening here, but I know some things, and one of them is that I _will _pass these doors, whether you allow me to or not."  
  
The guard who had spoken last eyed the man with barely hidden surprise. Strider's grey eyes seemingly bore into his heart, hard and dark with the promise of fulfilling his threat, no matter the consequences. All of the sudden the elf didn't see the man's worn, grey coat or his youthful features but the statue of one of the mighty king of old; proud and stern men he had last seen many an age ago with eyes that were bright as stars and old as those of an elf. Then that impression was gone like sand blown away with the wind, and the guard found himself stepping to the side to let the ranger pass. A smile lit the human's face that turned him back into the young man who had hardly outgrown childhood, and with a grateful nod at both elves he hurried past them, opened the doors and soundlessly slipped inside, leaving the two of them to ponder what exactly had just happened.  
  
Aragorn quickly walked through the healing wing, his thoughts already far away from the brief encounter with the guards. One or two of the younger healers and assistants obviously thought about stopping him and demanding that he leave at once, but just one look at the man's face convinced them otherwise. The ranger stopped at a she-elf's side to ask where the king and the others were, and she merely pointed into the direction of one of the greater chambers to the right of them.  
  
The man nodded his thanks and quickly made his way over to the partly opened doors, pushing them open after a second's hesitation. The room's occupants looked up when he entered, and yet none spoke or moved or ordered him to leave again, not that he would have anyway. It would have taken armed guards to remove him from this room now.  
  
Aragorn's eyes quickly travelled across the room, being inexplicably drawn to the unmoving, still object that lay on one of the beds in the corner, covered with a white sheet. A second later he realised what that object was, and he felt how his heart clenched with grief and pain and he quickly forced himself to tear his eyes off the dead elf's body. Next to Galalith's body stood an elf Aragorn did not know, probably Anondil, who looked angry, heart-broken and confused all at the same time. Hithrawyn and two junior healers hovered over another still form on one of the other beds, all of them working frantically, and when one of them shifted slightly to the side, Aragorn could see that it was Anardir who had suffered at least two major wounds from what little he could see.  
  
His gaze shifted to the last group, and his eyes widened slightly when he looked at King Thranduil, Lord Celythramir and two other high-ranking advisors. The Elvenking turned slightly to look at him, apparently not at all surprised by his sudden appearance, and Aragorn had to take only one look at the elf's blue eyes that were so much like Legolas' to know that the news they had were very bad news indeed.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
** _  
Yestarë - 'First-day', the first day of the year. The equivalent of Men's Winter Solstice (celebrated on the (modern) 22nd of December); according to the Reckoning of Rivendell it fell on the (modern) 7th of April  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger_  
  
  
  
  
***shakes head* Poor everyone, I think that sums it up nicely. They're all very poor elves/rangers/baddies/horses/Valar-know-what.** **Oh, and please note that no horses were hurt in the process of writing this fic. My sister insisted that I put that in here, so I am. Never antagonise your little sister, believe me - they can be vicious... *g* Okay, so the next chapter should be here on Saturday, I think, with more Elf Angst, Ranger Angst, well, general Angst, I guess. *evil grin* As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and encourage me. So: Review? Please?  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
LegolasLover2004** - Uhm, well, that was a straightforward request, I guess. *g* Let's just say that I am not disinclined to acquiesce your request. Ah, I love that movie. *g* So: I might, a little bit later though, sorry. A little bit more patience, alright? Thanks for the review!  
**Deana** - Yes, I know it was sad, and I'm really sorry. Ever since I started writing him I knew I would have to kill him eventually, and I still cried in the end when he did die. *shakes head* What does that say about me? *g*   
**Amelie** - Yup, he's very good at that. Making enemies, I mean. *evil grin* *ignores her sledgehammer* What will come to pass, will come to pass, that's all I'm going to say. You'll have to wait and see, I'm afraid... *g* I don't know yet how long the story is going to be, honestly, but I think at least 25 chapters. I don't think it will be significantly less. *grimaces* I was hoping to do 20 or 22, but I don't think so anymore. And I don't know about the sequel, that depends on whether I get a good idea for another story in the next few weeks. We'll see. Thanks a lot for the box, and I hope you had a great birthday and Christmas!  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - I will never understand FF.net. Never. Not even if I manage to live a hundred years. *g* It's weird and evil, that's what it is. And: Ouch! Stop whacking me! I'm only doing my job here! I didn't want to kill him, but I had to! I had no choice! Well, yes, I had a choice, but still. *evil grin* Uhm, and you think just because you wrote 'Trin's Elf' on his forehead that's going to protect him? Think again, mate... *g* Thank you, even if my holidays were filled with a cold from hell, but ah well. It was still fun. *g*  
**Aratfeniel** - *shrugs* I truly will never understand how this website works. It's just FF.net, and normal rules or logic doesn't apply. *g* Hmm, good question though. I don't know if Reran will ever find out who Legolas really is, I doubt it though. Not until the very end, that much is sure. Well, I hope you got the soundtrack and all the other things you wanted! *huggles* Thanks for reviewing!  
**Red Tigress** - LOL, my thoughts exactly! He ALWAYS states the obvious, it's really, really beginning to annoy me. *g* Uhm, well, that club of yours sounds rather interesting. And you're right, there are far too many Elf Protection Societies out there - it's their own fault after all! They _want_ to be hurt - why else would they be so adorable? *nods* See? They want it.  
**Gwyn** - Nope, it wasn't Celylith who died, right. Hold on to that thought... *g* You have a Horde of Painful Medieval Torture and Slow Murder Devices? That's worrisome ... really worrisome... *g* And well, I don't know what you're thinking, about why so many of Teonvan's captives committed suicide, but let's just say that I didn't want to go into further detail since this is PG-13 after all. It will remain PG-13 as well, don't worry. Besides, I could never write such things... *shudders* No.  
**Dha-Gal** - Well, you just don't get Skittles here, at least not the green ones. They only sell purple Skittles here, and not even everywhere. It's very sad, I know. *g* And I'm planning to go into politics and pass a law that orders every supermarket to sell green Skittles. I don't know how exactly I am going to do that yet, but somehow I will, trust me. *g* How did you break your wrist? I really hope it doesn't hurt too much! *huggles*  
**Firnsarnien** - Uhm ... sorry? I can see that you a slightly upset, and I understand you of course, but ... I had to? My alter ego made me do it? And alien entity? My sister? Her horse? My new dictionary? No? *sighs* Alright, I was being evil - and I really think you should put down that bazooka. They tend to punch nasty holes into walls - or people, for that matter... LOL, and yes, I know abou the red shirts. I guess Galalith was an ensign. *g* 'He's dead, Jim...' Oh, and of course Teonvan has a hobby! Uhm, it's ... collecting ... stamps? Yeah, right, that's it... *g* And, once again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Really. *seriously*  
**E** - Oh, I understand. Really. I don't have time to review much anymore either, it's horrible. And I agree, I think the Ext. Version of RotK will make it a good movie. It's just like the Ext. Version of TTT, I even like Faramir a little more now. A tiny bit, mind you, but still. And of coure books and movies exist side by side, but this time I found it really hard to recognise the book in the movie. Sad. *shakes head* LOL, so you and your cat hate me? Please don't sick her on me - then again, I have five cats myself, so they should protect me. *looks at her fat, disinterested cats* Then again... And don't worry, Aragorn will follow - eventually...  
**Halfling** - Uhm, that wasn't a cliffy, was it? I mean, he died, so what's suspenseful about that? And I didn't hurt every elf in the last chapter... *thinks* well, yes, I did, now that you mention it, but it was a mere coincidence. Really. *g* Hmm, to be honest I liked the Paths of the Dead, but not the dead themselves. In the book they still had to fight, making it somehow more real, and in the movie they just appeared and all the orcs died without really having a chance to fight back. *g* Boooring. And Ted (The Mouth of Sauron, don't ask), yes, I missed him too. I am hoping for the Ext. Version as well. *g*  
**Calenore** - Uhm, no, sorry. Galalith is dead as a doornail, as they say... *g* And I think most of the men are duly intimidated, except for Teonvan of course who is too stupid. *g* And Legolas does have some common sense. Not much, no, but a little. *pats his head* Poor, stupid little elf...  
**Critternut** - I don't ALWAYS kill the good guys. Sometimes, yes, but not always. *g* LOL, yes indeed, Teonvan is a bad guy. And he's rather good at that, too... I didn't think there was anything wrong with the ending - well, apart from the fact that Celeborn didn't sail to the West with Galadriel, but okay - it was much worse in the books, with the Scouring of the Shire and all that... Well, I didn't feel pity with Denethor at all. I never liked him, but the throwing-himself-off-the-seventh-circle really was exceptionally stupid. Well, I hope your Christmas was nice too and that you did indeed get what you wanted! Have fun in Florida!  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Same to you, mate, same to you. Thanks a lot, great that you still like the story, and thanks for the review! Wow, I put it all in one sentence! Amazing... *shakes head*  
**Strider's Girl** - Yeah, well, you're right, there was no Aragorn. *hastily* But there's Aragorn in this chapter, honestly! *pushes her into the direction of the post* There, go on and read it! Shoo! *g*  
**SundiAndElven** - Uhm, al-right. You two sound as if you're having lots of fun, so I don't think I'll intrude... *wide-eyed* You sure you're okay? LOL, A Walk in the Park? Well, that would have been an appropriate name as well, I guess... *g*  
**Firniswin** - We are all, my friend, we all are. Some people like me just have a hard time admitting it... Oh, and don't worry. Dutch and German are rather similar, when you know the one, you can understand quite a lot of the other, so it's not that uncommon to confuse the two. *blushes* Thank you for saying that my writing has improved. The chapters are much longer now, that much is sure... And of course I like Glorfindel! Who could not like him? Thanks, and I hope you had a Merry Christmas yourself!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, you will see in the end why Galalith had to die, it's just a tiny little question I've asked myself since I started reading FF. For now it should suffice to say that I'm evil, right? *g* I will pass along your message for King Thranduil of course, even though I don't think he's in the mood to talk to me at the moment. *shrugs* I don't know why either. I'm working on the Galalith clones, and let's just say that Teonvan will die - eventually. *evil grin*   
**Elenora1** - Well, I try to be fair. I mean, it would be evil just to get Legolas into trouble, or only Aragorn. I may be many things, but I'm not unfair... *g* And I agree with you: Much more fun than getting one of them into trouble is getting BOTH of them into trouble. *evil grin* Oh, and you're right, Legolas had about two lines in the whole movies, and the one he did have were stupid, stating the obvious or both. Poor elf. I missed the take-your-breath-away-part though - to be perfectly honest, I like Legolas (the book-Legolas), but I don't like Orlando Bloom. I know that I'm going to get myself lapidated here, but I really don't like him - I loathed him in PotC, and I shudder to think of Troy which I will probably see as soon as it comes out. I just don't like him, and even less than in PotC I like him in LOTR. Sorry. *g* You're gonna kill me now, right?   
**ElvenDancer** - See? Reviews work! I love reviews! Everbody loves reviews! I would even have updated yesterday, but I really was sick. I promise. *g* So, thanks a lot for reviewing! Just do it again, you'll get used to it soon! *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - *hides face in hands* I was afraid you would say that. The universe - managed by an insa... mentally unstable Canadian Girl - oh my, oh my... Yeah, and I am looking forward to the Extended DVD as well, but in my opinion a movie shouldn't have to rely on Special DVDs to make it a good movie. Without the scenes, it was merely rather good, nothing more. And again, I'm sorry for killing Galalith, and if you think Eru would frighten me, you're mistaken. *g*  
**Firegirl353** - LOL, no, I guess it was neither polite nor fair. *g* Don't worry, Celylith will be back, but not for the next few chapters, I'm sorry. I have planned everything precisely, and he can't get back to Mirkwood in the next two days. Poor Celylith. *pats his head* The twins will of course get to Mirkwood as well, but I can't promise you to make Elrohir the main twin. I mean, I never do that, but I might think about hurting him a little more than Elladan. Deal? *evil grin*  
**Tyne** - *g* 'Must have more pranks'? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but they are a little busy at the moment. They do have better things to do than pulling pranks on each other, sorry... Uhm, do you have issues with _my_ grammatical structuring? If so, then please tell me what's wrong! How am I supposed to learn if no-one ever tells me what I'm doing wrong? It's nice to hear that you still like the story, and 'le' is really spelt that way. There is another version, 'lle', but that's simply not Sindarin. I don't think it's Quenya either, so it might be made-up or something else entirely. *shrugs* Whatever. Thanks for reviewing, btw!  
**Sirithiliel** - A Merry Christmas to you too - well, it's a little late now, but still... Don't worry about the reviewing; you have reviewed so much that you can easily take a few chapters off. *huggles* Thanks for all the reviews!  
**Just Jordy** - We've all been busy, don't worry. I totally understand if someone doesn't review around Christmas - it's horrible... It's very nice to hear that you like Reran - I do like him as well, a lot, actually. *huggles Reran* He doesn't really love me back, but still...  
**Alilacia** - Alright, understood. My lips are sealed. I won't say anything, promise. LOL, and of course, that's it! Teonvan's hobby is knitting socks! He gave Reran a pair of pink ones, and that's the real reason why he hates him... *g* And I got the Ext. Version as well! Yay us! Well, I hope your Christmas was nice as well - and, more importantly, your presents! *g*  
**Lita J** - Well, what can I say ... yes? Yes, he died. I'm sorry, but he did. *shrugs* What more can I say?  
**Cicci** - *sighs* I know. I know. I liked him too. He was a nice elf. I would have LOVED to let him live, but I couldn't, really. Trust me. LOL, I know what symptoms you mean, I get them myself. That's why I never let my readers wait longer than a week. It would be cruel. *g* *huggles Cicci's alter ego* Thank you! It's great to hear that you like my cliffies! Don't worry - the review made perfect sense, thank you! *huggles her and her alter ego*  
**Carla** - Wie kommst du denn darauf? Legolas? Aerger kriegen? Neeeeiinn, so was wuerde ich doch nie machen... *g* LOL, 'jetzt sind noch nicht mal mehr Tiere sicher'? Recht hast du leider, ich muss zugeben, dass ich mich schon lange drauf gefreut habe, Rashwe einen Pfeil zu verpassen... *g* Das mit den Zwillingen hat mich auch gestoert, aber das mit den Houses of Healing und dem Palantír noch mehr. Viel mehr. *grrrr*  
**Marbienl** - Oh, believe me, I haven't uncrossed my fingers in days! I am really hoping to see loads of new scenes in the Ext. DVD. And no, I'm sorry, there was no Estel in the last chapter, and there won't be any Estel pain for quite a long time, sorry again. That's the way it is. *shrugs* Hmm, you're right, a prince is more important than guards, then again, a commander's first duty is to his men. So, tought choice. *g* And yes, Legolas could have jumped into the trees, but then how would he have got captured? *shakes head* Really, we can't have that... Well, even if Anardir doesn't die, they won't forever be parted, now will they? I mean, Elves are released from Mandos' Halls to walk freely in Aman, so, in the end, they would see each other again. And I am three chapters ahead at the moment. *grimaces* Used to be five, but then there came Christmas and I got sick and so on. *shrugs* Good thing I write in advance, huh?  
**Finara-Hin** - Well, technically speaking, _I_ didn't kill him. One of the men did. Alright, he might only have done it because I let him, but still. *g* Your feeling might prove to be correct though: Aragorn won't be very happy about Legolas' capture, neither with the elf nor the men, trust me. And you're right, the last chapter was a little bit darker than the others - but there was a _little_ bit of humour in it. Quite a lot, actually... *g* Thanks for your review, I really love them!  
**Tychen** - Nope, it mosst definitely does not apply to Elves. Would be boring too, wouldn't it? *evil grin* LOL, a 'certain angst driven slightly damaged Ranger'? Who are you talking about? I have no idea, really... *g* And no, no damage coming up, no damage at all - really! I would never do that... *g*  
**Zam** - Merry Four-Days-After-Christmas to you! And you're right, RotK didn't flow at all if you ask me. And I didn't pity Gollum either, I never liked him, in the books or the movies. He's a freak, and an evil freak at that. No-one forced him to kill Déagol for the ring, now did they? No, of course not. Stupid idiot. *shakes head in disgust* LOL, I knew you would like the 'Death!'-bit. There wasn't nearly enough Éomer in the movie though if you ask me... Hmm, I didn't know you were Reran's type - isn't he a little bit too old for you? Hmm? *evil grin* Zam likes Reran, Zam likes Reran... *sing-song voice* LOL, that's funny! If in doubt, I always go right. I don't like left. Left is evil. Trust me on this. *g* Well, I am happy you are taking care of Galalith and that Nólad and Cornallar like him too! Really! *g*  
**Bailey** - I am sorry you had to go to Ohio for a funeral. I hope it wasn't too bad. Well, Teonvan is not related to Geran, but I guess he might. They might even have known each other... *thinks* Perhaps. We'll see. Hm, the twins. Well, sorry to say it, but I don't think they will be here before chapter 12. Sorry about that, but that's the way it is. And they're not delayed, they are due to arrive (counting from the end of this chapter) in three days at the earliest. So, no wargs or anythign, sorry. *g*  
**Maranwe1** - Thanks for asking, my Christmas was very nice, as I hope was yours. I got a lot of useful and even nice things, can you believe it! *g* And I absolutely agree with you. All these scenes should have been in there, and I would have loved to see Imrahil of Dol Amroth as well. I've always liked him a lot. Yes, btw, chapter 11 is finished, something for which I am eternally grateful. It was beginning to really annoy me, and now I am actually looking forward to writing the rest. Yay Nili! *g* Great to hear that your fic is progressing as well - I always envy people who aren't stuck somewhere, especially if I am at the moment... And you're right, you know, it's ironic that Reran curses Adruran for dying. Still, he has the right to do so, since Adruran just took off instead of returning home and letting himself ne killed for failing their lord - perfectly selfish, I know... *g* Weird man.  
**Crystal-Rose15** - I know! I loved Halbarad and always thought it horrible he died on the Pelennor Fields - and they didn't even show him! What a world! *sobs* And, personally, I think Legolas is both brave and loyal _and_ completely insane. Why choose when you can have both?? And I liked Galalith too, really, but he had to die. I'm sorry about it, but still. *blushes and huggles* Great you liked it! Thanks for the review!  
**LeggyLover03** - Don't worry, Aragorn will go after him. Eventually. Ah well, you know me, my characters seldom really rush anywhere, so you'll have to wait a bit, I'm afraid. Not too long, but a little. *g*  
**Karone Evertree** - Well, I think Teonvan isn't really popular with anyone at the moment. I don't know why either... *g* And I'm usually a few chapters ahead so I can post even if I haven't had time to write much. Just like now; it really comes in handy. *g*  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Wow, two reviews at once! Thank you! Hmm, now that you mention it: I would defininitely not be able to keep up with any elf. I wouldn't even try though - I'm a loser, I know... *g* LOL, perhaps you should tell your children something like Reran told his men to stop them from wandering off? You might get some interesting reactions... *imagines her throwing herself onto the ground at the end of ch. 7* Well, thank you! That's a nice compliment! Even though it would have been rather alarming if you had really thrown yourself onto the ground... *g* And you're right, it was the reason for Celylith's errand and Aragorn's injury: I needed to get the two of them away from Legolas, because _they_ would never have left him, no matter what. *shakes head* Stubborn elf and ranger, really...   
**Mystic Girl1** - Selber Frohe Weihnachten! Ich hoffe, es war schoen, du hast viele Geschenke bekommen usw. usw... Ich _wuerde_ Galalith ja gerne wieder lebendig machen, aber da geht nix, wirklich. Tot ist tot, sorry. Tut mir leid zu hoeren, dass du so im Stress bist, ich hoffe, alles hat sich ein bisschen beruhigt mittlerweile? Lass dich bloss nicht allzusehr stressen, okay?  
**Sarah** - Oh no, English isn't my first language (*points at response above this one*) as you can see. *blushes* I thank you for your nice compliment though. It may give me delusions of grandeur but it's nice to hear nonetheless... *g* And I think you're right. They were just riding somewhere all the time, from one battle to the next, without explanations, reasons or something of the sort. Highly irritating, if you ask me... *bows* Thank you once again for your kind words. They are greatly appreciated.  
**Iverson** - Great to hear that your Christmas was nice too! And please, don't worry about pointing out things you don't like. Apart from the fact that I want to know what people really think so I can possibly correct mistakes etc. you are entitled to your own opinions, and only a fool wouldn't want to hear them. Besides, you're right. It was a clichéd sentence, from the first letter to the last. Don't ask me why I put it there, I can't remember. I think it was because I had just watched a Babylon 5 episode that was really clichéd; must have rubbed off. So: You're right, and, frankly, I'm surprised that you're the only one who pointed it out. *g* It's nice to hear that you 'like' Reran though, it's quite hard to express the different sides of his character. For me, that is. *g* And you're correct, of course: There's NEVER enough angst! NEVER! Mhahahahahaha! *runs off cackling madly*  
**Starlight** - Ich haette ja postwendend mein Geld zurueckverlangt, ehrlich! Nein, okay, ich haette es nicht getan, aber ich hab 'ne Freundin, die sich bei sowas immer beschwert - ueber alles und jeden - und es funktioniert! Sie bekommt dauernd Gutscheine und Geld zurueckerstattet und so - ich kann so was leider nicht. Ich hab ein zu weiches Herz, ich Weichei. Und es tut mir leid mit Galalith, und ich habe auch geheult, ehrlich. Wie ein Schlosshund, um ganz genau zu sein... *g*   
**Port** - A speeding Mac truck, huh? What a way to go... *shakes head sadly* Alright. Yes, I do appreciate unasked-for advice, _especially_ about grammar. As you probably know, English is not my first language, and I need all the help I can possibly get. I admit I didn't pay THAT much attention in school all these years ago... *g* *blinks* Modifier. Got it. To be honest, the thought that someone might get confused never crossed my mind - at least when you take the one sentence you cited as an example. But I know what you mean, and I've been working on it for a long time. I'm always having problems with these modifiers - they're nothing but trouble, really - it's one of the things I doubt I will ever learn. Another thing is that, in my language, you _would_ put the modifier at the end of the sentence - it's not supposed to be an excuse, mind you. I know the word order is wrong or at least ambiguous, but it's hard to remember sometimes. And about the long sentences: Another thing I am working on, honestly. Apparently without much success. *g* I thank you for taking the time to really think about my weird story, and your advice is much appreciated, even though I would hardly call myself a professional. I would like to hear what other things you 'would like to mention', so if you want, just send me another review or an email. Once again, thanks a lot, and I hope your laundry didn't get eaten by the washing machine. It happens to mine all the time... *g*  
  
**This is getting longer than the acctual chapter - a rather sad fact. *g* Another Thank You to all my reviewers, and to all of you a Happy New Year! **  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Decisions

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
A Happy New Year to all of you as well! I hope you all had lots of fun on New Year's Eve and got into this next year without trouble or blowing yourselves up when trying to light fireworks. I'm not kidding, that can really happen - to some of us, at least. I nearly did that a few years back, and believe me when I say that it was incredibly painful and not a bit of fun at all. *g*  
  
And I honestly don't know why you guys all think that Aragorn will try to leave the palace without permission to go after Legolas. Come on, people, we all know that our favourite ranger would _never_ do that, right? *evil grin* No, I'm sure the thought hasn't once crossed his mind, responsible young lord that he is...  
  
Okay, about that one thing quite a few of you asked: No, the men don't know that Legolas is the Prince of Mirkwood. For now, they don't even know his name. On the other hand, Legolas doesn't know that the men are in any way connected with Adruran and his Merry Men from the last story. Reran and the others don't know either that Adruran is still alive. Esssentially, no-one knows anything. *g* Oh, and Teonvan and Geran, our friendly psychopath from THOM, are _not_ related. They're all from the same place, but that doesn't mean they're related. They're not.  
  
And, last but not least, I don't know yet how long this story is going to be. Careful estimation: About 25 chapters, I think. I honestly don't know, but I refuse to write more than 30. So, around 25 chapters, probably not less. It would be a first time if I managed to write less chapters than I want. *g*  
  
  
So, enough of that! Chapter 10 is here, this year's first chapter! Including some interesting exchanges between King Thranduil, Aragorn and quite a lot of other elves, a nice conversation between Teonvan and Legolas (which Legolas did not provoke, of course *g*) and we find out whether or not Aragorn will wait for his brothers. I'm still accepting bets on that subject, btw. *g*  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
  
  
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Chapter 10  
  
  
Aragorn would have given anything to be allowed to pace. Well, technically it wasn't that there was anything that was stopping him from doing just that – except for the King of Mirkwood, three of his most trusted advisors and several other elves, most of them healers who were hovering just out of hearing range.  
  
The man grimaced inwardly. He usually tried to suppress things such as pacing, because he knew perfectly well that it was undignified and not befitting his status; besides, elves never paced and so he would not either. Right now however, he would have loved to express his feelings of choking worry and mounting impatience, but the mere thought of his father's face when he heard that he had started pacing in front of Thranduil and half of his court was enough to stop that urge. Elrond had never treated him any different than his adoptive brothers and had therefore always insisted that he behaved in an appropriate manner, namely one befitting young elf lords, and pacing did not fall under that category.  
  
Grey eyes once again strayed to the closed doors of the room he and the others had left some minutes ago and began to wander restlessly through the healing wing when they saw that the doors were still closed and didn't appear to open any time soon either. Hithrawyn had declared that all of them were disrupting his concentration, with a pointed, dark look at Aragorn one might add, and had ordered one of the younger healers to throw them out before immediately returning his attention to the unconscious body of Anardir in front of him.  
  
Not even Thranduil had protested when they had gently but firmly been pushed out of the room and the doors had closed behind them with an audible thud, something that increased the respect that Aragorn held for the golden haired king. To argue with Hithrawyn when he was in this state of mind was useless and considered dangerous and even suicidal, and the young ranger didn't doubt that Hithrawyn would even order all of them to leave the healing wing completely or would do things much worse if he deemed it necessary.  
  
The need to walk back and forth increased, and Aragorn forced his mind off Anardir's bloody body to the question of where in the name of all the Valar his elven friend could be, not a very intelligent thing on his part since his worry and fear multiplied exponentially when he just thought of Legolas. He forced his emotions back into a corner of his mind, locking them away as he had done so many times in the past when he had needed to treat a friend or family, and tried to think of what he knew.  
  
Legolas had left to visit the patrols to the south. Anardir and Galalith had been members of such a patrol. Galalith was dead and Anardir was grievously wounded, and no-one seemed to know where Legolas was.   
  
Aragorn leaned back against the stone pillar his back and closed his eyes, doing his best to fight off the dark tendrils of despair and panic that threatened to envelop his heart and mind. He didn't even have to follow that train of thought any further to see what had happened: Legolas had once again managed to get himself into trouble. Somehow, Anardir and, at first, Galalith must have escaped, but Legolas had apparently not…  
  
The man took a deep breath and kept his eyes closed, not trusting himself to control his emotions should he lift his eyelids. Legolas wasn't necessarily dead, there was much he did not yet know and Anondil, the leader of the patrol that had brought Anardir and Galalith back, might know something that changed everything he had just put together…  
  
Filled with new resolve, he opened his eyes. Until now he had heeded the unspoken agreement not to discuss anything until Hithrawyn could tell them what would become of Anardir, but he simply couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't know how Lord Thranduil did it, but he knew that he would go insane if he had to remain in doubt and uncertainty for one more second.  
  
Just when he had opened his mouth to demand answers in a way most unbefitting a young lord, human or not, especially in the presence of elders, the doors of the large room opened and the young healer who had escorted them out of the chambers some minutes ago appeared on the threshold. He bowed his head slightly and soundlessly motioned the assembled group of four elves and a human to re-enter the room, appearing much relieved that he was inviting his king this time instead of throwing him out.  
  
In less time than anyone would have thought possible the five waiting beings had moved into the room, only narrowly escaping the term "rush into the room", something that would not have pleased them overly much, since elf lords do not rush anywhere if they're not in battle, that is.  
  
Aragorn was last to enter the room, and his eyes immediately darted to the bed on which Anardir lay. The blonde elf seemed to be still alive, something that caused him to breathe a deep sigh of relief. He didn't know how he would have reacted if Anardir had died as well and joined his dark haired friend in the Halls of Mandos, even though he would probably have greeted that event with joy…  
  
"How is he, Hithrawyn?"  
  
Thranduil's voice brought Aragorn back to the present, sounding calm and in control of the situation. In truth, the king was neither, and he had to stop himself from letting the worry and fear he felt for his son show.   
  
Hithrawyn motioned at his two assistants to leave the room and close the doors behind them, and only when they were alone he answered.  
"Not good, my lord," he answered, looking the clearly agitated elf in the eye. "I removed two arrows from his back and his shoulder, and he suffered several other smaller injuries. He shows no signs of waking, and I do not know when he will regain consciousness. Or," he added with a dark look, "if he will regain consciousness at all, especially considering that he apparently watched his friend die. His injuries are very severe, and it's a miracle he made it even this far."  
  
"So he won't wake up soon?" Celythramir asked, looking anxiously at the healer.  
  
"No," Hithrawyn shook his head. "I am sorry, my lords, but this is out of my hands and beyond my skill to heal. If it is the will of the Valar, he will recover. He might just as well journey to the Halls of Waiting. There is nothing anyone can do."  
  
The four other elves in the room seemed to shrink as a hope they had obviously been harbouring was squashed as effectively as a beetle under an orc's boot. Aragorn looked from one to the other, and finally decided that no-one would volunteer any information in the next few decades.  
  
"Forgive me, your Majesty," he began, giving Thranduil a small, respectful nod, "But I do not understand. What does this mean? Where is Legolas? What happened out there?"  
  
Thranduil seemed to notice for the first time that the ranger was present as well and gave him a slightly confused look before he appeared to remember that the ranger hadn't been with them for the entire time. He took a deep breath and nodded into Anondil's direction.  
"Tell him what you told us earlier, Commander. He will find out anyway."  
  
A small voice inside Aragorn's head noted that this might very well have been an insult, but it soon began to fade as he the dark haired elf began to speak, looking at him seriously.  
  
"We don't know much. I am in command of one of the smaller guards to the south, about half a day away from the palace; Anardir's patrol was stationed approximately five hours' casual ride from us. Today we were relocating a little to the north-west to follow the tracks of a rather small pack of wargs, which turned out to be quite a good thing since we met with three of Anardir's men this way. They had been attacked by the wargs we were trailing, but they weren't hurt too seriously. I sent them ahead with some of my men, and they should have arrived here earlier this evening."  
  
Celythramir nodded, noticing the question in the younger elf's voice.  
"They arrived here some hours ago. The lad's arm was cracked, but that was by far the worst injury."  
  
Aragorn glared at Celylith's father, once again thinking that it was indeed true what they said about the Elves: If asked, they would only answer in riddles or telling you mountains of information that was only loosely connected to your actual question.  
"If you'll forgive me, my lords, I cannot see how this has anything to do with Legolas."  
  
Anondil smiled slightly at the young man's impatience.  
"If you would allow me to finish, Strider…" The ranger raised his hands in apology and beckoned for him to continue, and the elf took up his tale where he had left it. "As I said, we met with them, and that meeting prompted us to continue into the direction of their patrol. We knew that there were only Anardir and Galalith left, and didn't think it safe for them to remain alone until reinforcements could arrive. Unfortunately, we had moved away from their position earlier, and so it took us longer to reach their position. Well, actually, we didn't reach their position at all."  
  
"Why not?" Aragorn asked, still not being able to see how this could be important in any way.  
  
The dark haired elf's face turned serious.  
"Because, about an hour before nightfall, we found Prince Legolas' horse, or rather, it found us." He fell silent for a moment, trying to compose himself when he thought of what had happened next. "We followed the tracks further south, and an hour after sunset we … found them. Galalith had been dead for some hours, and Anardir was barely conscious. They had apparently ridden on the horse, but it hadn't been able to carry them any further in its injured state. I sent three of my remaining warriors to follow the trail and find out what they could and returned back here as quickly as possible."  
  
"That was the reason why we hoped Anardir would regain consciousness," Celythramir explained. "We know nearly nothing and were hoping he could shed some more light on what happened."  
  
"What _do _we know, my lord?" Aragorn asked, carefully reining in his temper. One had apparently to be at least two millennia old to be able to state such disastrous facts with such an infuriating calmness. "Where is Legolas?"  
  
Anondil answered for the silver haired advisor.  
"We don't know, Master Human. When we reached the two of them, Anardir was already very far gone. All we could learn from him was that they had been ambushed and that he had been ordered to leave the prince behind to get help. We don't know whether the people behind this ambush meant to capture or to kill them; he lost consciousness before he was able to tell us more."  
  
"We sent out five more patrols when you got here, as your Majesty commanded," Celythramir added with a nod into the Thranduil's direction who had remained motionless since Anondil had begun his tale. "But they won't get very far if they don't want to destroy what little tracks we have. Tomorrow morning we will know more, when Commander Anondil's men return."  
  
"And the snowstorm doesn't help," Thranduil slowly shook his head; the first thing he had said for the entire time. "Not even our scouts can find tracks that are buried under several feet of freshly fallen snow."  
  
"You don't know who might have attacked them?" Aragorn asked, still trying to come to terms with what the elves had just told him. How in Elbereth's name could they remain so impassionate?  
  
"No," one of the other advisors shook his head, "Right now we know nothing more than what Anardir told the patrol that found them."  
  
"Excuse me," Hithrawyn took a step forward, "I believe I can be of assistance here."  
  
Five pairs of intensely gleaming eyes turned into his direction, and if gazes possessed physical force, the assorted power would have propelled the blonde elf off his feet and through the balcony door at his back.  
  
"Hithrawyn?" the Elvenking arched a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"Well, your Majesty," the healer began, apparently not really happy about being the centre of attention in such an illustrious company, "I can of course tell you nothing with absolute certainty, but the arrows I removed from Commander Anardir's back and shoulder might offer us some clues. They were no orc arrows, my lord."  
  
The blonde elf trailed off, and for a moment Thranduil's quick temper flared up in his eyes before the king apparently regained control over his emotions.  
"Then what kind of arrows were they?"  
  
"From what I can say," the other began slowly, carefully avoiding looking into Aragorn's direction, "They were human, sire. They were definitely not orcish or dwarven."  
  
Aragorn's eyebrows moved up his forehead as he kept staring at the blonde elf who was very busy checking Anardir's bandages again. Human arrows? What did that mean? What had humans been doing in Mirkwood? What had they wanted from Legolas? About a dozen other questions flittered through his mind with impressive speed, and the ranger closed his eyes to avoid the elves' gazes that were surely fixed on him right now. It would have to be humans, wouldn't it?  
  
"There is only one human in Mirkwood at the moment," the advisor who had been silent until now remarked, a particularly unnecessary comment in Aragorn's opinion.  
  
Celythramir's eyes narrowed at the other elf, but before the silver haired elf could say anything, he was interrupted by the carefully controlled voice of his liege.  
  
"And that human would never attack my son or any other of our warriors, even if he had had the chance, which he did not," Thranduil stated, a clearly audible threat in his voice. "Everyone in my halls knows that, and those who do not are very welcome to discuss this question later with me – or the Lord of Rivendell if they think it necessary."  
  
Even the most unobservant of persons would have realised that this was hardly a time to talk back to the Elvenking, and his advisor was definitely anything but. He hadn't truly meant to accuse the ranger anyway, and so he inclined his head to his king in silent acquiescence.   
  
Aragorn merely looked at Thranduil with a carefully emotionless expression on his face. He had always known that Legolas' father … well, that he didn't exactly approve of his and Legolas' friendship. It had taken a few years until the older elf had seen that Aragorn was not like other humans he had known and that Legolas didn't intend to let his father tell him whom to befriend anyway, and had therefore finally, and Aragorn thought grudgingly, accepted that they were friend and were likely to remain friends until the ranger died or they managed to get themselves killed, an entirely more probable possibility in Thranduil's opinion.  
  
Be that as it may, Aragorn hadn't expected much help right now, and he certainly hadn't expected _any _help from Thranduil. While the young man was still musing whether the elf was maybe acting like this because the shock about finding out that his only son and heir seemed to have disappeared without a trace had finally set in, Celythramir looked at Thranduil sharply, narrowing his eyes in thought.  
  
"What could humans want from the prince?" he thought loudly. "They might be poachers."   
  
"Perhaps a kidnapping?" the other advisor offered quietly, once again refusing to look into Aragorn's direction in a way that was beginning to annoy the man and make him feel highly self-conscious. "If Prince Legolas was indeed captured on purpose, it could be an attempt to extort ransom."  
  
The king nodded slowly.  
"If our prior assumptions were indeed right, you might be correct, and in that case these _edain_ are sadly mistaken. I will not bow to such an outrageous act of violence!" A dangerous glint appeared in Thranduil's eyes, and he added, "Yet it is pointless to draw further conclusions until these facts have been confirmed. Until the rest of Commander Anondil's men and the other patrols we sent out have returned and reported what they found, we can do nothing effective."  
  
He drew himself up, a calmness and certainty emanating from him that was at odds with what he truly felt.  
"Still, in case we were wrong and this was the precursor of more attacks the guards are hereby doubled. The patrols will be reinforced in the morrow, and the warriors at the gates will be ordered to be extra-careful. At sunrise we can send out more patrols to look for the prince, but they are to report back with the others. The council will also convene an hour after dawn."  
  
Thranduil nodded at the assembled elves and human.  
"That is all."  
  
Taking this as the dismissal it was, the king's advisors bowed and turned to leave the room, yet Aragorn remained behind, a determined expression on his face which the Elvenking commented with a small inward sigh. He really did not know how it was possible that Aragorn had inherited Lord Elrond's stubbornness since he wasn't even his real son, but somehow the young _dúnadan _had managed that amazing feat and was just as headstrong as his foster father.  
  
"Excuse me, your Majesty," the man began, taking a careful step closer, "But I would like to accompany your scouts tomorrow morning."  
  
Inwardly, the blonde elf rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything he was interrupted by his master healer who had just finished mixing a medicine in a small silver goblet.  
"I will pretend I didn't hear that, Master Human, since you cannot be serious."  
  
Aragorn ignored the elf with the superiority that only long practice brought and continued, his serious, desperately gleaming eyes not leaving the king's face.  
"Please, sir, I promise not to be in the way. I learned much from my brothers and your son as well, and I will not be a liability to your warriors; all I ask for is the chance to help find Legolas. Besides, they might have need of a healer when they do find him, and I could be of assistance there as well."  
  
Hithrawyn stood to his feet in an instant, apparently having completely forgotten that his lord was present.  
"You, human, are still not fully well and I absolutely _refuse _to let you put even one _toe _outside this palace for the next few…"  
  
The blonde elf quickly fell silent when his liege gave him a dark look and raised a hand, and quickly bowed his head and left the room, still shooting Aragorn furious glares which the man completely ignored. He hadn't even fully comprehended what Hithrawyn had been telling him; all that mattered was that he somehow convinced Thranduil to let him go. He just _had _to go out there and find Legolas; he could still very well remember what had happened the last time they had encountered a group of unknown humans, and to think that this time his elven friend was all alone only served to increase the shivers of fear and dread that rolled down his spine.  
  
Aragorn looked at the still silent king, trying to determine what the sparkle in the elf's eyes meant. He had never really managed to find out what these sparkles meant, and in his experience it could be anything from disapproval to agreement to an impending fit of fury.  
  
"Please," he said softly, "Please, your Majesty. It is my fault he went alone, and the mere thought of him being captive of some unknown group of humans is…"  
  
"No," the blonde elf suddenly raised his hand, "No, son of Arathorn, it is my fault. I encouraged him to go alone in the hope of somehow preventing him from getting into trouble in your company; a vain hope, it appears. If there is someone to blame, it is me and no-one else. Do not burden yourself with a guilt that is not yours to bear, young one."   
  
He fell silent for a moment as he apparently tried to bring order in his thoughts and continued, a steely glint in his eyes that caused the man's heart to sink. He had seen that glint far too often in his own father's eyes.  
"Yet Hithrawyn is right in my opinion. You are not fully well yet, and it will help no-one if your condition worsens again."  
  
Aragorn shook his head unwillingly, the other's refusal to listen to him causing him to talk back to the king, something he would never have done under any other circumstances.  
"My condition? It was merely a cold, and I am perfectly alright!"  
  
"I was not yet finished," Thranduil informed the man in an icy tone of voice and looked at him darkly, but that look softened slightly when he saw the truly distraught face of the young human whose anxiety most probably originated to equal part from the fact that his best friend had disappeared and the fact that he had just interrupted the very ill-tempered King of Mirkwood. "My word stands, ranger. I doubt neither your noble intentions nor your abilities or those of your teachers, but I will not risk your health or your family's wrath by letting you go on a doubtful mission to find one missing elf – even if that elf is my son."   
  
Huge, gleaming silver eyes were turned on the blonde elf, who felt a sudden sway of pity for the Lord of Imladris. He could very well imagine what Estel had been like when he had been younger – probably much like his Legolas had been when he had been an elfling, namely unbearably adorable and at the same time incredibly stubborn – and could guess how hard it must have been to be to resist such an innocent stare.  
  
"He is my friend, your Majesty," Aragorn said quietly. "I have to help him."  
  
"And he is my son," Thranduil countered. "There is nothing you can do at the moment, except pray for his safe return. If he is still not found when the Lords Elladan and Elrohir arrive in a few days, you and they may go and help search for him, but I hope that it doesn't get that far."  
  
"Do you really believe it to be an attempt to extort ransom?" the young ranger asked, carefully avoiding agreeing to the king's proposal. He wouldn't dishonour his host by giving him his word when he intended to eventually break it anyway.  
  
The golden haired king grimaced, apparently remembering unpleasant things from the past as his eyes strayed to the body of his warrior that was covered with a sheet.  
"It wouldn't be the first one," he answered curtly, clearly unwilling to divulge more. He turned back to Aragorn, his face emotionless once more. "It is late and I have much to do yet, _dúnadan_. I am sorry, but you cannot accompany the warriors tomorrow morning; I happen to agree with Master Hithrawyn on this matter."  
  
Aragorn bit his lip in frustration, but held back a dark comment that wanted to escape his mouth. The king was only doing what he thought best, after all, and it was his right as lor of these lands to deny his request.  
  
"As you wish, my lord." He gave a small bow and was already half on his way out of the room when he halted and added with a small, sympathetic smile at the Elvenking, "I am sure we excite ourselves needlessly. Legolas will surely arrive here sometime in the night after having escaped the ones who were stupid enough to attack him."  
  
The elven king smiled back, thinly and clearly not convinced.  
"You might be right, and I hope with all my heart that you are."  
  
Aragorn's smile wavered and disappeared completely after a few seconds.  
"My lord, I also wanted to thank you for…"  
  
"There is no need," Thranduil raised his hand. "There are many things I may doubt about your kind, son of Arathorn, I will freely admit that, but what I have never doubted is that you are a loyal friend to my son. No-one with some wits about him could ever think otherwise."  
  
The younger being battled an embarrassed and proud flush that wanted to creep up the sides of his face. He didn't know whether the king was serious or under some kind of shock, but it meant a lot to him to hear such approval from him.  
"I would die for your son, your Majesty."  
  
"And he for you," the elf nodded seriously, his eyes darkening a little. "I know." His eyes returned to the white, unconscious face of Anardir who was lying motionlessly on his bed, still and motionless as a carved marble statue. "It is late. Good night, Estel."   
  
"Good night, sir," the man bowed his head and asked a last question, his eyes darting once again into the covered bed's direction. "Who will … tell his family?"  
  
Thranduil bowed his head as well for a moment, golden hair falling forwards onto his shoulders, and when he looked up again his face was grey and looked impossibly old for an elf.  
"I will," he said quietly. "It is my duty. I will remain here for a few more minutes and will then go to Galalith's parents. They mustn't hear it from others in the morning."  
  
Aragorn wanted to retort something, but try as he might, he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound precocious or stupid or both, and so he didn't say anything. There was only a small part of him that was capable of reasonable thought anyway; the greater part of his mind was well on its way to a full-blown panic which he could less and less conceal. With another nod at the Elvenking he quietly slipped out of the room, his thought firmly fixed on Legolas and how in Elbereth's name he could get out of Mirkwood to help him.  
  
Thranduil hardly noticed the man's departure as he remained where he was, staring out of the window into the raging snow storm and wondering in what condition his son would be in if he ever saw him again at all.  
  
  
  
  
This was turning into a bad day, and it hadn't even truly started yet.  
  
Legolas shook his head slightly, a movement so small and minute that it would have gone unnoticed even by an elf who was looking for it. Well, technically speaking the day had started a few hours ago, but the men had only got up a few minutes ago. He would never understand what humans did during the day that warranted them sleeping so much, and had Aragorn been here he would surely have teased him about it, but Aragorn wasn't here. He was alone with a group of humans he knew nothing about except the facts that they had injured his friends and captured him, and that fact alone would have been enough for him to predict that this would not turn out to be a good day.  
  
There was another reason however, and that reason was definitely more serious than the last: The dark haired man whom he had … slightly antagonised yesterday, Teonvan if he remembered correctly, appeared to be in charge of his guards today, and _that _was most certainly a guarantee for a bad day.  
  
Legolas sighed inwardly while he watched the men with emotionless eyes who were bustling about as they prepared to break camp, looking stiff and cold to his substantial satisfaction. The more rational and sensible part of him (which was, according to Celylith, the twins, Aragorn and about every other friend he had ever had, exceedingly small and at the point of being threatened with extinction) knew that he should have kept his mouth shut, that he shouldn't have made this man angry, but the rest of his mind stubbornly stated that there was no way he would allow this man to believe that he, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, was scared of him, because he wasn't, and that was the truth. These men might have captured him, yes, he gave them that much, but they needed to do a lot more than this to actually frighten him. Up until now their threats and treatment had been much less threatening than his father on a good day.  
  
No, Legolas thought darkly and glared at a man that passed him a few feet to his left, making the human stumble under the power of a fierce elven stare and almost drop the pile of blankets he was carrying. No, he would _not _show these people any emotion they wanted from him, and definitely not fear.   
  
Still, today his situation appeared even darker than yesterday, now that he had had enough time to properly think about it. Yesterday most of his thoughts had still be clouded by hatred and fear for the safety of his men, and while these feelings had not at all diminished, he had had due opportunity to consider his options, which were few, as he had to admit. These people knew exactly what they were doing, and it appeared that they had been instructed not to take their eyes off him for longer than a second, unfortunately a rather sensible measure.  
  
The way he saw it, there was little chance of him escaping them the way things were at the moment, and if he was perfectly honest he agreed with the human commander's assessment. Even with the grace of the Valar Anardir and Galalith wouldn't have reached Mirkwood much earlier than last evening, and then it would have been too late to send out search parties, even though that was definitely the first thing his father would have done. By the early hours of this morning, when there would be enough light for the scouts to follow what little tracks there remained after more than a day of continuous snowfall, there wouldn't be much to see, even for the keen eyes of Mirkwood Elves.  
  
Legolas shook his head again. He was sure that his father's scouts would find the humans' tracks, with time, but he wasn't sure if it would be in time to follow the trail before it disappeared due to the current, less than friendly weather. No, he was stuck here with these people, and he couldn't rely on help from anyone. He was on his own, and if he wanted to escape, he would have to do it himself.  
  
The elven prince had just come to that conclusion when a shadow fell over his face, and he looked up slowly, carefully taking his time. His eyes strayed to the sky that was covered in dark, angry-looking grey clouds that were apparently just waiting for the right opportunity to start showering the ground with snowflakes again, before he finally looked at the man who had stopped in front of him and was looking down on him with a particularly smug expression that Legolas hadn't seen on anyone's face besides Hithrawyn's and that one orc's he had killed about five centuries ago. The elven prince suppressed a wince. Neither the encounter with Hithrawyn nor that with the orc had been anything that could be called pleasant or enjoyable, and to see that expression on Teonvan's face was not something that caused him to change his mind about this not being a good day.  
  
He gave the dark haired human a mildly disinterested look and patiently waited for him to speak, knowing that he would eventually. It was in few men's nature to be silent and reserved, and he was sure that it was not in this one's. Most of the other humans might be quiet and professional, but if Teonvan didn't open his mouth in a few seconds to gloat and boast and generally behave like a ten year old human child, he would personally go and find the closest orc horde to openly declare that their race was far superior to the _Eldar_.  
  
Legolas nearly grinned when the man standing in front of him wasn't able to stand the silence anymore and finally opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"A good morning to you, elf," Teonvan said pleasantly, smiling at him in a decidedly disconcerting way. The blonde being looked just like yesterday, the man mused inwardly. He didn't know how the elf did it, he thought, just like last evening he merely appeared mildly irritated by the proceedings around him. The man noticed that the bruises on his face had blossomed overnight, but other than that he appeared to be unchanged – just as arrogant, just as overbearing, and just as proud. Teonvan grinned widely. That would have to be changed, wouldn't it…  
  
The prisoner just continued looking at him with that mildly interested expression that simply drove Teonvan mad with anger, and so the dark haired man moved closer to the elf, a menacing air all of the sudden appearing around him.  
"I said something to you, elf," the man spat, "It would only be polite to answer."  
  
The elf blinked as if in great surprise, puzzlement appearing in his eyes.  
"Oh, forgive me, Master Human, you were speaking _to _me? I thought you were once again starting one of your captivating monologues. Please, do continue."  
  
Teonvan was rendered speechless for a moment. How _dare _this elf treat him like this? Trembling with rage, he didn't know what to do for a moment, but then he stepped forward, grabbed the elf by a bound arm, fervently hoping that he caused a maximum of pain in the process, and pulled him to his feet.   
The guards who had stood to their feet when Teonvan had appeared began to shuffle their feet and to slowly and inconspicuously move backwards, apparently more than unhappy to be caught in such a situation. One of them opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it again when his superior gave him a glare so dark that it would even have impressed thier lord. The man quickly ducked his head and moved backwards, he and his companion quickly joining their comrades who were busy breaking camp right now.  
  
Teonvan waited a few seconds until the two were out of earshot before he returned his gaze to his prisoner who still appeared so calm that it was beginning to make the man's blood boil.  
"You still haven't understood one thing, elf," he hissed so softly that only his captive could understand him.   
  
He very deliberately shifted his grip on the other's arm until his fingers closed about the slashed fabric of the elf's left shirtsleeve where an arrow had grazed him during the fight yesterday, a wound that had gone unnoticed and untended until now. The cut wasn't long but rather deep, and dried blood clung to the wound and the torn garment. The man's fingers closed around Legolas' upper arm and began to clamp down, building up pressure until it was very hard for the elven prince to hide the signs of pain that wanted to show on his face.  
  
"Yet you really should try to grasp the one important idea," he added, burrowing his fingers deeper into the elf's injury and watching with relish how quickly disguised pain flickered in his eyes. "You feel that, elf? This pain is only a taste of what is to come yet! I am in charge of your guards for today, and who knows for how many days after that until we arrive at our destination?"   
  
Teonvan's grip tightened even further, and while Legolas had to bite down onto his lower lip to stop himself from betraying any sign of pain he felt, the elven prince's eyes remained filled with an unwavering contempt and fixed on the dark haired human's face. The man either didn't seem to notice or was entirely unconcerned about what his prisoner thought about him and continued, a strange gleam appearing in his eyes.  
  
"I will not be spoken to in such a manner, Master Elf," he told Legolas pleasantly. "Maybe you think you know what pain is, but I can assure you that you are mistaken! There is much you don't know, and I am going to teach you, even if that is the last thing I ever do! Our lord won't care in what condition you are in as long as you're alive – and 'alive' is a rather vague term, is it not?" His fingers clenched around the elf's arm momentarily, causing the pain to spike suddenly so that it nearly sent the elven prince to his knees. "Do you have anything to say to me now?"  
  
Legolas looked at the man, eyes gleaming with suppressed pain and loathing so fierce that it would have sent any sensible being running away as fast as possible.  
"I have nothing to say to you, human. Not to you, not to your companions, and not to your lord. You are not worthy of my attention, and nothing will you get from me but my utmost contempt."   
  
"You say that now," Teonvan smiled eerily at him. The man released his dead grip on the prince's arm but still held him firmly enough to make sure that the elf could not draw away from him. "We will talk again, elf, and soon, that I promise you. Reran won't always be here, and as long as I don't kill you my liege will not mind in the slightest. You will regret these words in the end, believe me."  
  
The fair haired elf didn't answer but simply continued looking at the man so coldly that it should rightly have frozen him on the spot, a firm certainty emanating from him that he did not think so at all. Teonvan shrugged inwardly and began to push his captive forward, into the direction of the horses. He was slightly bothered by the fact that, due to the fact that he sunk into the still soft carpet of snow almost to his knees, he was quite a bit smaller than the elf who was taller than he in the first place. The elf would learn … oh yes, he would greatly enjoy teaching this one, he was even more interesting than the last one – and a lot prettier as well…  
  
Before the man and his prisoner had even taken more than a few steps, three men appeared before the two of them, so quickly and soundlessly that Teonvan would almost have run straight into them. To his substantial dissatisfaction, one of them was exactly who he didn't want to see: Cendan, Reran's black haired, blue-eyed, even-faced, thoroughly infuriating lieutenant. He man almost rolled his eyes. Reran's little pet soldier, wonderful, that was exactly what he needed now…  
  
"What?" he asked, rudely ripped out of his enjoyable dreams of what he would do to the elf if Reran ever was out of the camp long enough for him to have some fun. "What is it?"  
  
"The captain sent us to take him over to the horses … sir," Cendan announced in an annoyingly neutral voice that never failed to enrage Teonvan. It was a tone of voice that left no doubts about the younger man's true feelings for him. "Captain Reran decided to reinforce his guards. We wouldn't want him to escape, would we?"  
  
After a moment in which he fervently tried to come up with a reason why he couldn't allow Cendan to take away the elf and failed, Teonvan reluctantly nodded his head at the dark haired man.   
"Alright. Alright. Take him."  
  
He gave the stony-faced elf a push into the direction of Cendan and his men, feeling very disappointed when the fair haired being didn't stumble or fall down as any mortal man would have. For a moment, something flashed in the elf's silver-blue eyes, disappearing far too quickly for him to identify, and yet even that short look was enough to leave him with a feeling similar to being dumped into a bucket with ice water.  
In the next moment it was gone, and the two men who stood behind the dark haired lieutenant grabbed the elf's arms and began to drag him over to where the horses were gathered together with most of the humans.  
  
After a second, the two commanders fell into step behind their men and the captive who was once again showing them the same regard he would have shown a small, disgusting insect, or perhaps not even as much. Teonvan waited for a second until he was sure that their men were out of earshot before he turned to Cendan, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light of the slowly rising sun that was doing her best to break through the thick grey clouds.  
  
"You were there before I turned around," he stated in a low voice, studying the other's face intently. "What did you hear?"  
  
Cendan looked evenly back at the other man, inwardly once again surprised at how fiercely he loathed him, from his stringy brown hair and his smug grin to his leather boots. Yes, the young lieutenant decided darkly, he even loathed his boots, which was a rather sad fact now that he thoughts about it.   
"Nothing, sir. I and my men heard nothing." The man looked at his superior, not being able to resist the temptation. "Was there anything to hear, sir?"  
  
For a moment, Teonvan felt very tempted to kill this impertinent man, but thankfully remembered just in time that Reran probably wouldn't be very happy about it. He was not stupid enough not to see that it was not a wise idea to antagonise his temporary captain, not right now anyway. At least he thought that Reran would be angered about Cendan's death; that would be just like him. Reran had these really curious ideas about loyalty and respect, it would be typical for him to feel personally offended when one of his men was killed. Inwardly, Teonvan shook his head. What a very strange attitude.  
  
"No, Lieutenant," he snapped at Cendan who looked entirely too unconcerned and maybe even a little bit amused, as if he were inwardly laughing about a joke only he knew. "There was absolutely nothing to hear. If I were you, I wouldn't look so smug, by the way. I assume you know that there are many dangerous things that can happen to those who do not learn to keep their noses out of other people's business, yes? Do not think yourself untouchable, or you might come to regret it. Reran will not always be here."  
  
Cendan ground his teeth so hard that he was surprised that no-one could hear the sound of tiny pieces of his dental enamel breaking away.  
"I hear your words, Commander."  
  
"Good," Teonvan nodded sharply. "Don't forget them either."  
  
The younger man bowed his head and both humans fell silent, and several paces in front of them, Legolas restrained himself just in time from raising an intrigued eyebrow at what he had just heard, even if the two humans left and right of him had not. When he was pulled to a stop by his two guards, he shook his head inwardly, and wondered how much more complex and intricate his current, already more than confusing situation would become. If he weren't involved in all this in a most unpleasant way, he would even have thought it interesting, but to be honest, he could only see the darker sides of these developments.  
  
He did not really believe that Cendan would indeed kill him as he had announced yesterday when the man had thought himself threatened by his words. Legolas had no doubts about the man's readiness to kill him if he saw his mission or companions in danger, but he didn't think that he would kill him and therefore disobey one of his mysterious lord's direct orders. In fact, he didn't think that Cendan would chose to kill him at all, at least not in a hidden, silent manner so that it seemed to others like an accident. Somehow, that didn't seem to fit what he thought to be the young man's character; in Legolas' opinion he would gladly kill him in combat, but not in silence and secrecy like a common murderer.  
  
The elven prince suppressed a small shiver that raced across his back as he stared straight ahead, fixing his eyes on the coat of the animal that was at the moment being prepared for him, a large, hard-mouthed horse of a rather unidentifiable colour. The look on Teonvan's face when the man had closed his fingers around his (still mercilessly throbbing) arm, the joy he had obviously felt at that action that had been so easily visible…  
  
No, he thought darkly, glaring again at the men in front of him just to do something, and be it something as trivial as unsettling some of his captors. Teonvan would have no such problems if it got him what he wanted, he was very sure about that. No problems at all.  
  
  
  
  
A scream ripped through the stillness of the gloomy, dark room that was only lit by the slowly dying embers of the fire that barely emitted any light at all. A second later, the figure lying in the bed shot upright, one hand pressed tightly over his mouth and the other against his sweat-covered chest.  
  
All of the sudden, a violent trembling settled over the young man's body, and he burrowed his head in his hands, desperately trying to calm his racing heart. After a few moments, the shaking lessened, and the man leaned his dark head against the carved, wooden headrest of his bed, his eyes closed as he slowly got his feelings under control.  
  
Elbereth, the young human thought, that had had to be the worst dream he had had since … well, a long time. After a few more seconds, he gingerly sat up, threw back the multiple layers of blankets he had acquired during his time here and stumbled over to the large stone basin in one of the corners of his room. For a moment, he stared at his image reflected in the still surface of the water in the bowl, but his reflection contorted into images he had seen in his dream, and with an angry, desperate shake of his head he quickly stepped forward and dunked the same into the icy water.  
  
Several moments later he came back up, feeling as if someone had jammed a thousand tiny needles into his head, but better nonetheless. This had always been something he had done after a bad dream, dunking his head into the next available bowl or basin of water. The first time he had done this as a very young boy he had scared his brothers witless who had rushed into his room when they had heard him cry out in his sleep; they had actually believed that he had been trying to drown himself, or so they still claimed.  
  
The thought of his elven family only served to distress him even further, and Aragorn moved back over to his bed and sat down on the mattress' edge, unconsciously beginning to fiddle with the edges of a blanket that had half slid of the bed. Oh, how he wished his father to be here now; Elrond would certainly know what to do!  
  
Aragorn resisted the urge to draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them as he had done many times in the past when he had been younger. The day that lay behind him had been nothing less than chaotic, and Aragorn had spent every minute of it filled with a choking anxiety, fear and mounting pain, a mental pain that was beginning to spread into his body and rend his heart in two.  
  
Not that it had been any different for the majority of Mirkwood's residents; by the morning news of Galalith's death, Anardir's injury and Legolas' possible capture had reached every single elf's ears, and Mirkwood had been put into a state Aragorn had never before seen, and had never wished to see either. At sunrise the search parties had left along with the reinforcements for the rest of the patrols, and until they had returned a stunned numbness had laid itself over the palace and its inhabitants. The king had secluded himself in the council chambers with his advisors and had remained there for hours on end.   
  
All Aragorn had done was pace between the palace and the gates, having thrown what was being considered proper behaviour for young lords into the wind, and since the guards were more than occupied with their own grief and problems, none of the elves he had met had thought that in any way peculiar. He had just come up with the seventh plan of breaking into the council chambers and forcing King Thranduil to let him go after Legolas (which would admittedly have worked about as well as the other six he had devised, namely not at all), when the scouts and the rest of Anondil's men had returned at nightfall – empty-handed.  
  
Aragorn had been down at the gates at that moment, thinking that he had his emotions under control rather well, but to every objective observer it was clearly visible how distraught and more and more desperate he really was. He hadn't even needed to ask if the elven troupe had found something, _anything _that might give him a tiny bit of hope; a thick, almost palpable frustration and guilt hung over the warriors that looked more dishevelled, wet and frozen than Aragorn could ever remember seeing an elf.  
  
The young ranger got to his feet again, the anxiety and fear that filled his heart demanding a way to vent themselves. As if drawn there by a physical force, the man walked over to the thin wooden door that separated his room from the balcony attached to it and opened it, sucking in the clear, cold air that was in such sharp contrast to the almost stifling heat that filled his chambers. He closed his hands around the cold railing that surrounded the tiny space far above the palace gardens and stared unseeingly onto the snow-capped trees that swayed gently in the night breeze, snow once in a time falling to the ground in a thick shower of white flakes.  
  
Indeed, the guards had returned empty-handed. He hadn't been there when the elves had reported to their king, but in a matter of only a few hours the news had made its way through the palace, since in their distraught states neither Thranduil nor his advisors had seen it fit or necessary to contain it: What tracks the scouts had been able to find led East before they lost themselves completely in the snow that had been falling incessantly since yesterday morning. A part of the warriors had of course been left behind and would keep searching for clues that might lead them to their vanished prince and would tomorrow be joined by even more scouts and other volunteers, but none of the elves Aragorn had spoken to – including Celylith's father who had shortly stopped to speak with him when he had been hurrying from one council meeting to the next – had really believed that there was a noteworthy chance of being able to catch up with Legolas and his captors in the next day or two.  
  
Aragorn felt once again how a wave of relief and gratitude swept over him, so overwhelming in its intensity that it almost caused his knees to buckle, for that was the one, tiny little bit of good news that had reached Mirkwood since yesterday evening: Legolas was not dead, thank the Valar. The patrols had found no body, no elven body, that was. What they had found were the bodies of seven humans though, all of them killed by a very sharp dagger. That of course only left room for only one possibility, namely that Legolas had indeed been captured and that the men had taken him with them, for why should they leave their dead companions behind and take an elf's body with them?  
  
The young human ground his teeth. That was all the Mirkwood scouts had been able to find, the bodies of these men and some tracks that lost themselves between the trees. The elves would be able to find signs of the men's passage, of that the ranger was certain, but it was anyone's guess how long it would take, or if they would be able to catch up with them before they left Mirkwood where they would be leaving incomparably more tracks than in the open lands around the forest. If it kept snowing like this, any trail would quickly be covered and vanish, and if there were no broken twigs or torn off branches to follow, not even the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood would be able to follow the mysterious group of humans.  
  
And the worst, Aragorn decided darkly, was that the king still refused to let him go anywhere outside of Mirkwood. The more reasonable part of him understood the Elvenking's reasoning of course, who had been telling him that the last thing Legolas would want was him to get hurt in the search for him (not to mention the twins' pending arrival that suddenly didn't seem so desirable anymore to the king), but said reasonable part was beginning to shrink constantly at an alarming rate. He couldn't even give Thranduil a good reason why he needed to be out there looking for Legolas – apart the very obvious one of course, namely that he was beginning to go out of his mind with worry – no reason, that was, if he didn't mention his dreams, and with that he was back at the beginning.  
  
Aragorn turned back around and looked through the partly opened door at his bed with the rumpled, twisted sheets, leaning back against the balcony railing. The dreams, the one thing he could not tell the king about. It wasn't that he didn't trust Legolas' father, but he didn't fully comprehend what they were meaning himself and would therefore certainly not tell the King of Mirkwood about them. In fact, they were something he wouldn't even have told his brothers about; the only person he would have willingly told about them was his father, and Elrond was several hundred miles to the West right now. Still, he thought with a small smile, Legolas would probably have found a way to make him tell him, even if he hadn't mentioned the dreams at all … Legolas always did, stubborn elf that he was…  
  
The young man closed his eyes and pressed his open palms against the closed lids in a vain attempt to erase the images he had seen in his dreams, but they stubbornly remained as if someone had etched them into the insides of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep he saw the same things, ever since he had heard that Legolas was missing. The images he saw were so vivid, so clear, and every single one filled him with shocking fear and pain. Every single image was of his elven friend, of Legolas, surrounded by strange, unknown men, of Legolas in pain and suffering, and finally of Legolas dying in agony.  
  
Aragorn dropped his hands to his sides and opened his eyes again, staring angrily at the bed in front of him as if the piece of furniture was in some way responsible for his current situation. In Eru's name, what did this mean? Was it the future? The past? Nothing but a figment of his frantic imagination?  
  
He didn't know, he admitted to himself again, he simply did not know. He had had some dreams like these before, almost always when he had been hurting or worried. Most of them had occurred when he had started to grow into a man, and since his father and brothers had always had them as well, he had never thought them in any way peculiar. He had of course known that Elrond possessed the gift of foresight and that Elladan and Elrohir had inherited it in some way, even though it was certainly not as strong as their father's. Before his twentieth birthday he hadn't been able to understand why he was having these dreams as well, but when he had been told of his heritage, much had become clear. The royal house of Númenor possessed that gift as well, and he as Isildur's Heir had inherited it from Elros Tar-Minyatur like every one of his line before him.   
  
Still, he thought darkly, he had experienced nothing like this ever before; all he had had until now were vague feelings and perhaps a clouded glimpse of what might come to pass; nothing like this. Elrond had assured him that the ability to see clearly and be able to interpret what he had seen would develop as he grew older, and he had never expected something like this now, when he had not yet completed his twenty-third year. The images had been so distinct and precise, so vivid … no, this had to be more than a simple dream. He didn't have much experience with visions of any kind – even though he had the feeling that that would change soon enough – but he wasn't ignorant enough not to know one when he saw it.  
  
Be that as it may, he thought as he turned back to look at the serene palace gardens that were in stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions that swirled in his chest, what should he tell the king? That he had had a dream and _thought _that it _might _be a vision that _could possibly _lead them to Legolas? That he had the feeling that he would be able to find him, even if Mirkwood's best scouts, elves millennia his senior both in age and experience, were not? And what would his brothers say when they got here in a few days and discovered that he was gone on what they would call a fool's errand? What would his father say?  
  
Aragorn hung his head, the darkness that surrounded him filling his heart and crushing all emotions but despair and helplessness. He couldn't expect the king to allow him to follow this path on his own or with some of his warriors, or even to believe him – the way he saw it his statements would probably be considered a side effect of his recent illness and he would be back in Hithrawyn's healing wing before he could even say "Not fair". He couldn't just leave the palace either, against King Thranduil's orders. Apart from the fact that he would most likely never get past the gates anyway it would be a gross violation of the ancient laws of hospitality that had been drilled into him since he had been a child. It would be a sign of great disrespect and ungratefulness to leave his host's house in such a way when it was clear that the Elvenking didn't wish him to in order to protect him, and he shuddered to think of what his foster father would say to it…  
  
For about the forth time this night, Aragorn turned around, back towards his room. He didn't even need to close his eyes to recall the pictures he had seen during the past two nights; every detail was burned into his memory. The image of Legolas lying on the cold, snow-covered ground, with his hands bound and helpless … the image of Legolas surrounded by humans, bleeding and in pain … the image of Legolas being approached by a brown haired man he had never seen before, a man who held something he couldn't identify, all of it accompanied by the feeling of such overwhelming pain that he could hardly bear it…  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath and looked shortly over his shoulder at the dark, peaceful trees that swayed in the gentle breeze, looking beautiful with their slender branches and strong dark trunks. Then he turned back to door that led to his room, and when he took the first step forward he knew what he had to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _edain - humans, men  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger  
Eldar - 'People of the Stars', elves_  
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_**No, NOW I don't accept bets anymore. *shakes head* He IS kind of stupid, isn't he? Well, it must be genetic then, it's not really his fault... *runs off to escape Elrond's and the twins' wrath* Well, be that as it may: Things are finally beginning to get interesting! In the next chapter we'll find out if Aragorn manages to get out of Mirkwood, have a little conversation between Thranduil and Celythramir and much more.****As always, reviews tend to speed things up considerably. *nods seriously* It's true. So: Review? Please?  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Deana** - Well, I never liked those Thranduil-abuses-Legolas-stories, they're rather OOC if you ask me. I mean, I do realise that "my" Thranduil is grossly OOC as well, but not as grossly as that. *g* At least I hope so. And I would even draw you a pic to remind you that Thranduil is indeed golden haired and blue-eyed, but I couldn't draw a decent pic to save my life. Sorry. *g*  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Great you liked the bear skin. I just figured that that's something dwarves would do, please don't ask me why. I have a lot of these weird ideas. LOL, the toss-me-look. Yes, that's indeed funny. *g* And you could say that our mysterious evil lord has an evil plan for Legolas. Quite so, actually... *evil grin* And you're right again: Thranduil won't be a happy camper for the next few chapters. Quite the opposite in fact. *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - That wasn't a cliffy? I mean really, that's not a cliffy! A cliffy is something else entirely - at least in my opinion. And yes, Galalith WAS funny, and I DID like him, but he HAD to die, simply because I wanted emotional trauma for an elf close to Legolas. So, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was an accident, kind of... *g* And well, Teonvan's hobbies are _somewhat_ related to Geran's I think. Just a little bit more ... sinister, you could say. I'm still working on the Galalith clones, btw, don't expect me to deliver before chapter 20 or something, sorry! *g*  
**Dha-Gal** - Yup, to be stubborn and behave like an idiot is JUST like Legolas, isn't it? *evil grin* And YES! Rub it in, will you? They ONLY sell the purple ones; it's an outrage! How is one supposed to live! *wrings hands* Oh woe is me! Great to hear that your wrist isn't broken. Broken bones can be REALLY annoying... And I could have guessed that that happened during volleyball training. I was on the school team, and every time one of us went to the doctor next to the school with some sort of hand injury, he got that long-suffering look and only asked "Volleyball team, eh?" In the end we just taped all fingers without exception, just in case. Looked weird, but worked. *g*   
**Gwyn** - Yup, we think alike, something that gives me the creeps. *g* It will definitely stay PG-13 though, I could never write something like that. I mean, I really couldn't. I was able to get used to the torture, but not to something like that. No way. *shivers* And that was no cliffy! Honestly, a cliffy is something else!   
**Sabercrazy** - Because FF.net is stupid. It does such things all the time and no-one knows why. It's evil and insane, keep your distance. *g* *beams* Great you liked the character death! You did, didn't you? *watches her face turn purple* Uhm, you didn't? And I didn't cross it out, that was my alter ego! She's doing such things all the time and I'm powerless to stop her... *shakes head* Very sad. I agree though. Your alter ego and mine would get along just great. *g* And I would be lying if I said that I have understood completely what you meant, but let's just say that this is going to stay PG-13. Definitely. Your guess is a good one though.  
**Firnsarnien** - Yeah, you're right, all these things don't work with me. I love being chased with sharp objects, I love death threats and the like, so I definitely have you at a disadvantage, I fear. *g* And yes, I'm evil, but it had to be done. This whole story was inspired by the one question: Why do the good guys always have to win? I mean, in the end it's all peachy and they live happily ever after? Ha, I don't think so! Not in my universe, mister! You'll see what I mean... *blinks innocently* So you're Scarlett O'Hara? Nice to meet you... You're going to send me a threatening letter? Really? That's so sweet - thank you! *huggles* And yes, I DO know that this is all fun. It's good fun too. *g*  
**Calenore** - Hmm, yes, they haven't beaten him yet - you're right! I'll have to remedy that - thanks for the idea! *g* I think that you have to pity Elrond and Thranduil in fact. With the luck their sons are having it's a miracle they haven't left for the Grey Havens yet... And yes, you keep believing that Galalith'll be back. Right. *g*  
**Susy** - Well, thank you! It's nice to hear that you like my weird little story! Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Mouse5** - Yeah, it's one of my finest traits - being able to create chaos and angst wherever I go. It's rather rare, I've heard... *g* So you want even more chaos and angst? Well, I'll see what I can do...  
**Fliewatuet** - Great to see you're still with us. I'm sure you'll soon be up to date - I mean, the chapters aren't that long after all, right? I think it's a curse, btw, truly. I mean, a curse would be the only explanation for their unearthly ability to sustain the most horrid injuries wherever they go and whatever they do, right? And you're right, healers ARE the worst patients. 4/5 of my family are various kinds of doctors, so I know, believe me. *g* And I think that, to a certain extend, Aragorn is so careless because he grew up among Elves who heal much faster. So he either forgets he needs more time to heal or choses to ignore that fact. Hmm, I think it's safe to say that Adruran's/Reran's lord is not after the treasure anymore. It's gone, besides, now the Dwarves of Erebor know about it. Would be too dangerous. *g*  
**Silvertoekee** - LOL, yeah, things are indeed not going so great for Legolas and everyone else. You will have to be patient a bit longer though, 'cause the evil lord won't reveal his evil schemes for quite some time though. Sorry about that. And it's not hard to keep track of the reviews, I get a review alert for each one after all. Besides, I am addicted to them so I guess I couldn't miss it no matter what. *g* It's sad, don't tell me.  
**Bailey** - Yeah, I know, but it's fun if he's wasting valuable time. It makes things angstier, don't you think? *g* And I don't think that Rashwe would be much help right now; he's injured, remember? You don't ride a horse which has suffered an injury to one of its legs before it's completely well again, at least that's what my sister tells me, and she would know. So, sorry, no Rashwe. *g*  
**Strider's Girl** - *innocent look* Who, Aragorn? Doing something stupid? Nooooo, never... You know him, that's something he would never do... *g* *blushes* Thanks, it's great to hear you like my way of writing Legolas and Aragorn. I sometimes find it rather hard to determine what they would do, and I always hope people aren't too upset with my interpretation of their characters. And don't worry, I won't abandon this story. I am a perfectionist, it would insult my sense of order. *g*  
**Websterans** - Uhm, thank you? Yes, I do indeed hope that the story is exciting, or at least a little bit. *g* Thanks for reviewing!  
**Firniswin** - Nah, don't worry, you're tougher than you think. A little cliffy won't kill you - besides, that wasn't a cliffy. Just to ghet that straight. *g* You are printing my stories? *wide-eyed* Really? Wow, what kind of printer do you use? Mine would have died a long time ago... *g* Yeah, lots of people have problems spelling elvish names and things like that. I luckily don't have that problem ( I have a lot of others, trust me *g*), but I'm insane so that doesn't count, I guess. I love the language as well, so... *shrugs*   
**Firegirl353** - Okay, it's going to get a little bit complicated. *g* Yes, Elves are the Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar, but Men ARE the Second born, since Dwarves are not actually children of Eru. He may have granted them life, but they were created by Aulë the Smith (Mahal in their tongue). So, Men are indeed not Second born since the Dwarves awoke shortly after the Elves, but they are definitely the Second born children of Ilúvatar, besides, I said "one of the Second People", not of the Second born. "The Second People" is the literal meaning of the elvish names for the human race, Atani in Quenya and Edain in Sindarin. *stops to take a breath* Sorry, it wasn't supposed to turn into a lecture. *shrugs* I hope this answered your question? *g* Oh, and I could hurt Elrohir so that he would remain conscious, what about that? I'll try to concentrate on Elrohir, but I can't promise you to use his POV all the time. I may be many things, but I'm not unfair. *g*  
**Sirithiliel** - Hmm, I don't know about that. At the moment, Legolas is a tiny bit tied-up, so to speak. But, eventually, he might indeed. *g* Great you liked the past part, and thanks for reviewing!  
**Alilacia** - Oh, don't kick your computer, kick FF.net. It's their fault, really. And lots of people seem to have the same problem, I don't why though. Hmm, he got the fur of the bear, just as it was, not a caot made out of it. Sorry if I expressed that ambiguously. So, it's not a coat, it's a fur. LOL! I love the socks! I'm sure all of them would love to get a pair of nice, warm socks. Pity Teonvan isn't a charitable guy, right? Well, I hope you got some sleep and had lots of fun on New Year's Eve! *huggles*  
**Asha Dreamweaver** - Yes, I am evil. It really took you so long to figure that out? *g* And, as I said, they don't know that Legolas is a prince. They don't know either that he is the elf that screwed Adruran's plans. I don't know if they will find out, most certainly not in the next few chapters though.  
**Karone Evertree** - Hmm, as I said in the A/N, neither teonvan and Adruran nor Teonvan and Geran were related. They're from the same part of ME, but they're not related. I don't know when Legolas will finally figure out that they're connected to Adruran and the others, not soon however. Sorry. *g*  
**Amelie** - No, never fear, I won't abandon this story. I didn't mean to say that, it's just that most of the time when I'm in the middle of a story I lose the faith in my ability to end the whole thing. I will end it. Trust me. *g* Hmmm, why don't I like Orlando Bloom? It's hard to say, really. Well, first, I don't think he's attractive in LotR, really, not one bit. He may look cute once or twice, but I don't find him attractive. I HATE that blonde wig. I mean it, I hate it and the blue contact lenses. They make him look freaky. He was better in PotC, but only marginally. I don't understand it myself, since I am more the dark-haired-dark-eyed-type of girl, but I just don't find him more than handsome. So, I don't think him attractive, and that leaves only the acting ability, which he doesn't have in abundance if you ask me. I know, that sounds harsh, and you can't measure him against Johnny Depp or Ian MacKellen for example who were simply wonderful in the movies, but I just don't think he's that good an actor. *grins sheepishly* You wanted to know. That doesn't mean that I don't like _Legolas_ though... *g* Oh, and I have both written and decided about the who is going to stay where and will get where - thing, but you'll have to wait and see. Can't tell you everything, now can I? *evil grin* Nope, I can't.  
**Elvendancer** - Oh, I was being serious for once, really. I love reviews and they help me loads. Thanks for asking, I'm much better, even though I still have a bit of a cough. It's annoying, nothing more. Thank you for taking the time to review! *huggles*  
**Just Jordy** - Yes, my Christmas was nice, thank you. It's always a bit stressful, but that's the way things are, right? *blushes* Thank you, but are you serious? You read only my stories in this genre? Oh, big mistake! There are so many wonderful authors out there! Go and read Thundera Tiger's stories - then again, you won't want to come back to read this horrible stuff I write... *g* Well, I hope your Christmas was at least bearable then - family can be very annoying indeed. *g*  
**Halfling **- Well, his name is Ted. It just is. Didn't you think he acted just like a Ted in the book? I mean, if he's no Ted, then who is? *g* And of course Legolas is nice and friendly and non-antagonistic, good little elf that he is. He would never provoke someone, no, not he... *g* Well, Aragorn can indeed not go riding to Legolas' rescue just now - but I won't say anything about the twins. Just think about one thing: Would there be more angst for everyone if they went with him or if they were too late? *evil grin* Yup, that's what I though too...  
**Lina** - *looks at Lina's full body cast* The Michelin Man - I mean, the Michelin Lina! Run for your lives!!! *g* So you're a southener, huh? *amused eyebrow* Hmm, you wouldn't last long here then, I guess - it really started snowing today. I love snow and ice! *g* *pats Éomer's head* Good boy. Don't kill my characters and keep that madwoman... I mean, Lina, away from them and we'll get along just great! And I knew you and Zam would love the Rohirrim's new battle cry! *g*  
**Leggylover03** - *sighs* How did I know you would say that? I must be telepathic! But yes, in a few chapters there will be some pain and angst - mainly Legolas pain and angst at the moment, sorry. Don't worry though, I'm always fair. *g*  
**Zam** - I am so sad to hear that the weather almost killed you! Truly, I am! Why didn't it REALLY kill you?? WHY????? *g* Nah, j/k, I would greatly miss you ... your death, I mean... *g* And trust me, you don't want to kill Erelas, we'll need him later. So, hands off, okay? He's a nice guy, really... LOL, LINA persuaded Fëanor to attack the Teleri? Why doesn't that surprise me in the slightest.... So, don't worry, your father-in-law is in here, and the joint review was - whoah. I'm still speechless. Or shocked, take your pick.*g*  
**Zam AND Lina** - I recovered from my speechless state. Took me some hours, but I'm back. First: How do you two come up with things like this? I mean, really? How? Are there illegal substances involved? If yes, where do I get them? *g* Well, I'll just ignore the fact that you killed one of my villains and will replace him with his identical twin, whose name conincidently also is Teonvan! Bow before my ingenuity! *g* And YAY! I get a present! I've always wanted the Barrow-wights! How did you know? Thanks so much!! *huggles both of them* I'll ignore the fact that they nearly sacrificed me, btw. I like ECBG. He's cool. I thought it was a shame Éomer killed him. He's always so quick to kill people... LOL, Zam is now the B**** Queen of Angmar? As if I didn't see THAT one coming... *g* I've always thought that the Nazgûl's dragon thingies were cute, btw. They're adorable!! *huggles dragon thingy* And I indeed remember Helm's Deep and your evil squirrels! DEATH!!! *g* So, now that that's over, I also have some presents for you! For Zam ... *dramatic music* the King of the Dead with his army! And for Lina ... *dramatic music again* Ted, aka the Mouth of Suaron who didn't make it into the movie! Go and be happy! *g* Merry Chrsitmas to you two!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Oh yes! Yes! I want to be Varda Elentári, also known as Elbereth Gilthoniel! I want to be her! All of Elvendom will worship me!! *evil cackle* And see? I told you you would see it my way in the end... *g* Yeah, I don't know why either, but most people seemed to have guessed that Legolas would get himself into trouble. You people are psychic, really... *g* Great you liked Frór's little gift, and I hope you had lots of fun playing your game! I've heard it's cool!  
**Bballstar42** - Oh, take your time. Unfortunately I don't have time to update faster than every five days or so, so you shoudl have plenty of time to catch up. Well, I hope you'll like the rest of the fic as well, and thanks a lot for the review!  
**Suzi9** - Wow! Huge review! Thanks! It's very nice to have you back - I missed you! Your Chirstmas sounds like a lot of fun though - like some I had before my parents divorced, in fact. There was one where my father was trying to cut the Christmas tree's trunk and the axe ended up in the floorboards - the expensive floorboards. We then had to tie it to the balcony doors, dinner caught fire, my parents argued and my father locked himself in his study and refused to come out for the whole evening. It was a disaster, and we children spent most of it in tears. *nods* Oh yeah, that was fun. Yours sounds even worse though. Your father really punched his brother-in-law? Wow. I'm astonished that it really was because you moved to England though. I mean, the battle of Culloden was, what, 260 years ago? 258 I think - and that was the last great battle if I'm not mistaken. *shakes head* It's rather strange, huh? Sorry I depressed you even further, but ... uhm, well, that's my job? I have to agree though, a war between Mirkwood/Rivendell/Dúnedain would have been most entertaining indeed. Rather bloody, most likely, but funny nonetheless. Thanks for asking, I am much better. I read lots, listened to my new Live CD and wrote only a little, unfortunately. *grimaces* I knew that Tolkien based most of ME on Nordic myths, but if you really go to all these places I _demand_ that you send me the pics! *evil look* Please?  
**Orlandofan13** - Well, I can promise you to update frequently, but to finish ... nah, sorry. This is going to be a lot longer, so the end won't be here for quite some time, sorry. *g* I don't know why we love to torture those we love either. Freud would most probably have known an answer, I think... Thanks for the review!  
**Critternut** - Yup, you're right. A review is a review. *g* I hope you had more time to read the rest of the chapter, and that you still liked it after that. Thanks for reviewing, no matter how short!  
**Marawe1** - LOL, the little glimpses of nobility are 'scrumptuous'? I'll admit that I love them myself, but 'scrumptuous'? Interesting choice of words, though... *g* The bear fur might come in handy later indeed, that is, if Aragorn remembers to take it with him... Alter ego: You're the author for cryin' out loud, just make him! Nili. Hey! You're right! Alter ego: Duh! *g* Sorry, just talking to myself again... *g* Well, about your question: It just might be that everyone find everyone. A great, happy get-together, sort of... *g* I'm not making any sense, am I? And, well, really decent bad guys - nah, I don't think so. You never know though, do you? Well, you're not stuck too horribly, here it was just as I thought. Once chapter 11 was finished, everything was much easier. Much, much easier. *g*  
**TrustingFriendship** - Ah, broken down cars are not fun at all. Mine broke down some time ago, and took ages to get the parts they needed to fix it and all that. A nuisance, really. *g* I might do what you demand and kill the baddies slowly/painfully - hmm, I most certainly will, I think. But whoever said that Aragorn would save Legolas once he finds him? I don't think I did. Nope. I didn't. *g* A Happy New Year to you too! *huggles*  
**Naur Rhaug** - *blushes* Thank you! It's great to hear that you're enjoying my weird little story, and it's very nice that you like the way I write the characters. I'm always somewhat worried about that. Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Marbienl** - Oh yes, definitely. We HAVE been hanging out with him far too long - you and me both... *g* Riiight... *nods quickly* Hands balled to fists. Whatever you say. *beckons for Elrond to give Marbienl a tea to knock her out* Suuure, just relax.... I will put one of these scened in this, I think, but quite a lot later I fear. patience, my friend... *g* Yup, that's why I needed Frór. You can have him back now, though. *hands her dwarf* Here you go. And I'm sure Legolas knows a few tricks about slipping out of his bonds, but these men know what they're doing. The tricks don't help if the one tying you up knows them too... *g* LOL about Legolas' glasses! That's most certainly a funny idea! Great you liked the 'kingly Aragorn' scene. I didn't want to overdo it since he's still young, but I had to put it in. I've always loved those scenes in the books. And no, Anardir WILL see Galalith again once he gets to Aman, but no-one knows how long elves have to spend in the Halls of Mandos before they are released. So it might be some time. And yes, that joke WAS kinda ... interesting. *g* A Happy New Year to you too! *huggles*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - I am in fact absolutely sure that bad karma follows the two of them. Either that or they've been cursed. Or both. *g* You can never know with these two...  
**Miss Attitude** - *scratches head* How can you lose the storyline when you've read the other chapters? Ah well, stranger things have happened I guess... Well, take your time catching up, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Cicci** - Great to hear that you like the villains. I've always liked the baddies more than the good guys - good guys are so terribly boring most of the time... *g* I thank you of course for your compliments, even though I have to admit that I can't see what's so great about that last paragraph. It wasn't even a cliffy. *shrugs* Thanks a lot nonetheless. Well, yes, or rather no, English is not my first language. I have to give you credit for recognising German though; not all people do, trust me. *g* German is indeed my first language. You are lucky receiving your education in English; all I had were English classes three times a week since 7th grade. And my teachers weren't the best, believe me. *g* Thank you for saying that you wouldn't have noticed that English isn't my first language, and let me return the favour. I wouldn't have guessed that English isn't your first language either - even though I would never claim to be some sort of criterion for that, but... *g*  
**Starlight** - Na, natuerlich hat Aragorn 'endlich' wieder was zu sagen! Ich wuerde es doch nie wagen, dem zukuenftigen Koenig Gondors den Mund zu verbieten... *g* Zu den Unfaellen kann ich mich natuerlich nicht aussern, sagen wir doch einfach, dass die Chancen nicht allzu schlecht stehen, okay? Hmm, die twins... Im Endeffekt werden sie sicher hinterhergehen. Genauer kann ich mich leider hier nicht aeussern... *g* Estel ist auch mein Liebling, sei also vesichert dass es einige Unfaelle schon noch geben wird!  
**Mystic Girl1** - Was, der Elb war nicht unter'm Weihnachtsbaum? Dann muss er entkommen sein - ich hatte dir doch einen schoenen mit 'ner roten Schleife um den Hals geschickt... Zu dumm. Ich habe sehr schoene Geschenke bekommen. *knuddelt ihre neue Live CD* Sehr schoene. Dass du die Finsterlinge magst, ist doch wirklich schoen. Ich persoenlich liebe sie natuerlich auch. *knuddelt Fieslinge* LOL, 'gut organisierte Organisationen'? So koennte man das in der Tat sagen - wie weit kaemen sie denn bei Legolas und Aragorn auch ohne? Und du hast wahrscheinlich recht: Die Waechter haben Estel nur reingelassen, damit nicht noch mehr Ranger auftauchen - Recht haben sie! Einer ist mehr als genug! *g*  
**Carla** - LOL, die Boesewichter scheinen ja einen richtigen Fanclub zu bekommen! Na ja, ich mag sie ja auch! *knuddelt Fieslinge* Danke fuer deine Komplimente. *rot werd* Ist immer schoen zu hoeren, dass jemand meine OCs mag. *g* Ich persoenlich liebe diese Szenen, in denen Aragorn ganz koeniglich und so wird - ich musste einfach eine reinbringen. *knuddelt* Danke fuer die Review!  
**Liin Sivi** - *bows* Thank you! It's great to hear that you like my OCs, I'm always worried about them, at least a bit. Frankly, I feel sorry for them as well - anyone who has to put up with an ill-tempered Legolas, no matter for what reasons, can be sure of my sympathy. *g* LOL, you're right, my villains do indeed tend to have 'conversations' or 'discussions' with their captives. Never fear, both of our intrepid heroes will at some point be involved in one. *evil grin* And you're right again, one wouldn't even notice if Teonvan suffered some brain damage. There's not much to damage anyway. Btw, there's nothing wrong with your review's length! Thanks!   
  
**Once again a Happy New Year to all of you! I wish you a very successful, happy and ... *insert special wish here* ... 2004! *huggles readers***  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. By Any Means Necessary

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**  
  
**Hmm, okay, I see your point.   
  
There have been a few people who told me that Aragorn wouldn't have waited for so long in their opinion, and I guess that, if one goes with the general interpretation of his character here on FF.net, they are even correct.** **I, however, have always thought that that characterisation is not entirely accurate. I think that, even though he is just 22 at the moment, he would behave more mature and responsible than your average 22 year-old-human-boy nowadays (no offence to all the 22 year-old-human-boys out there). There is a difference between 20th-century education, manners and self-conception and those of medieval-Middle-earthian-whatever times, or so I think. Tolkien's Aragorn is vastly different to 'our' Aragorn, and even though he was 65 years older at the War of the Ring, I think he would have been different as a youth as well.  
  
*coughs* Well, in short: I've always thought that yes, Aragorn may be young and impulsive, but he wouldn't necessarily act like that, or at least not to such an extent, not before thinking everything through. There was the very real chance that the elven scouts found something, so it would have helped no-one to run off headlessly into the woods. *shrugs* That's only my interpretation, so feel free to criticise me. **  
  
**Now to the other topic that seems to greatly concern you guys: Elf-torture. *tired sigh* You people are blood-thirsty, did I ever mention that? So, I have to announce that yes, there will of course ****be ****... some ... elf-torture, this is one of my fics, after all. *g* The bad news, however, is that it won't be here till chapter ... hmm, 14, I think. *several dozen readers break down weeping* Well, I'm sorry, but I really wasn't in the mood for it until now. So, chapter 14 it is. *friendly smile* I'm sure you'll be able to cope.  
  
  
Very well, even though there's no elf-torture in this one, here's chapter 11, the last chapter before the twins arrive. *g* That's something, isn't it? Apart from that pleasant fact, we have a conversation between a rather agitated Thranduil and Celythramir and find out if and how Aragorn gets out of Mirkwood. *shrugs sheepishly* It's no torture, but, ah well. *evil grin*   
  
Have fun and review, please!**  
  
  
  


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Chapter 11  
  
  
The next morning dawned gloomy and dark, with snow still falling to the ground in thick flakes. It was now the general opinion that this was the worst snow storm Mirkwood had seen for at least half a millennium, if not longer. There was a certain debate going on about it, but most Silvan Elves didn't think the topic to be worthy of too much attention, considering the problems they were facing at the moment.  
  
The courtyard was already busy with several elves bustling about, readying horses and provisions that would be needed by the warriors that would be leaving in less than an hour to resume their search for the prince. Even despite the restless activity, an air of hopelessness and grief hung over the cobbled space, thicker and more intense over the warriors of Anardir's and Galalith's guard. To lose two of their most experienced and greatly loved members at once was more than even the battle-hardened Elves of Mirkwood could cope with, and that didn't even take Prince Legolas' disappearance into account.  
  
The mood was no less dark and depressed inside the palace, and the elves that walked through the corridors didn't greet or look at each other. Everyone knew only too well what it would do to the king if his only son should be lost to him, and the thought of not only losing their prince but their king as well served to bear even more heavily on already troubled minds.  
  
The uncomfortable silence that seemed to fill the halls was, however, quite suddenly broken when a voice rang out in the king's study, raised in an outraged shout. For a moment, the guards that were posted outside looked at each other, obviously trying to decide if their liege was in any kind of danger, but a second later they identified the voice as King Thranduil's and stood down again. Who could blame the king after all?  
  
Inside the study, the golden haired Elvenking looked at Celythramir, his military advisor, with eyes that were very close to actually burning. Yes, Celythramir decided as he quickly averted his eyes and fixed them on a point right above his lord's right shoulder, any second now Thranduil's eyes would catch fire, he was sure about it.   
  
"_What _did you say?" Thranduil hissed, slowly standing to his feet. He pushed the straight-backed chair he had been sitting on back and began to round his table that was covered with several layers of papers and maps, something that was highly unusual for the meticulous and tidy king.   
  
A moment later the blonde elf stood in front of his advisor, too angry to even notice the way his long-time friend and advisor was cringing under his glare, something that did not happened very often.   
"I must have misunderstood something. For a moment I really thought I had heard you say the words 'He is gone'. Please, do correct me."  
  
Celythramir unconsciously straightened his back and clenched his teeth. There was no way out of this; o Elbereth, why him? He slowly redirected his gaze to his king's face, on whose features the word "doom" could be seen so clearly that it might as well have been written in large red letters on his forehead.  
"I am afraid I cannot, my lord. The ranger is gone."  
  
"Oh," Thranduil merely said, smiling benignly at the other elf, something that caused a reaction similar to a large bell that was rung in the other's head. "If that's all…" The friendly expression disappeared from his face in an instant, and he took a step closer to the silver haired elf. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"  
  
Celythramir shrugged helplessly.  
"Simply gone, my lord. A servant discovered that he wasn't in his rooms an hour ago and informed me straight away, knowing perfectly well what that meant. The bed has obviously been slept in, but his gear and weapons are gone. I had the palace and the courts searched, your Majesty. He is not on the grounds as far as we can tell."  
  
"Impossible," Thranduil stated flatly. "No human could leave my halls undetected."  
  
"That is exactly what I thought," the silver-haired elf nodded grimly. "Yet it appears that Lord Elrond's sons taught him well. He is gone."  
  
For a moment, the elf was rather sure that his king would really lose his temper – in which case he was fully prepared to make a mad dash for the door, proper behaviour or not – but then Thranduil shortly closed his eyes, seemed to count to ten and leaned back against his table, causing a stack of haphazardly piled papers to fall to the ground, something that went unnoticed by both elves. The blonde king took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes again.  
  
"Where were the guards? I gave explicit orders to post two guards in the corridor to prevent such a thing."  
  
"You did, my lord," Celythramir nodded, "And your orders were followed, of course. Estel did not leave through the door, that much is sure, for not even an elf could have made it past the guards unnoticed. We think he climbed down from the balcony."  
  
"The balcony," the Elvenking repeated blankly. "I see."   
  
"There is a letter, my lord," the other elf hurried to add, not really thinking that that fact would serve to pacify his lord, but deciding that it was definitely worth a try. There was no reason to walk willingly into certain doom, was there? "We found two letters on the chest of drawers in Estel's room. One is addressed to Lord Elrond and his sons, and the other to you."  
  
Wordlessly, Thranduil held out one of his hands, and Celythramir dropped the hastily folded envelope into his king's opened palm. The elven king opened it with an impatient, angry move of his hand and unfolded the parchment, holding it so that his silver haired advisor was able to see the flowing script that ran over the page, clearly inviting him to read the message with him.  
  
Celythramir quickly noticed that, while the makeshift envelope seemed to have produced in great haste, Estel seemed to have given considerable thought to what he had written, for the crisp, elegant elvish letters were drawn precisely, in a way that suggested that the author had known exactly what he was doing.  
  
Celylith's father quickly skimmed over the text, his eyes lingering on the two paragraphs at the end of the short message.  
  
  
_"…and for that I beg your pardon, your Majesty. I do not mean to dishonour you, your house or my own with my actions, but I cannot act any other way. I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me that I have stolen away in the night __like a thief__, but to declare my intentions openly would have complicated everything.  
  
I must try to find Legolas, even though I know that you are right and he would wish me to remain in the safety of your halls. That is the one wish I cannot satisfy however, and I hope that you will forgive me with time, as will he. I will do everything in my power to find him, my lord, that I swear to you by Eärendil's star. I will fail neither __you__ nor __him__, just as he didn't fail me these few months ago."_  
  
  
Celythramir lowered his head and tore his eyes away from the letter. A part of him could understand the man only too well, could understand that he would rather die while searching for his friend than stay here and do nothing, but another, at the moment incomparably larger part would have loved to strangle that irresponsible, reckless, insolent human.  
  
"Young fool," the silver haired elf muttered softly. "Getting himself killed is the only thing he will do. I will never understand how young ones manage to survive even a decade. They're all like that, without exceptions."  
  
Thranduil had remained silent and raised his gaze to look at the other elf now, the darkness that seemed to have been growing in his usually bright eyes even intensifying.   
"So I have not only failed my son, I have also failed the trust Lord Elrond placed in me. I have lost both of them now."  
  
His advisor shook his head, frowning sadly when he heard the hopelessness and grief in his lord's voice.  
"You are not to blame, my friend. You could not have known what would happen, no-one could. Estel made his choice, and maybe he will even find that errand son of yours. I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if he did. One way or the other, we will find the prince, that I promise you."  
  
"Oh yes," Thranduil murmured darkly and shook his head hopelessly. "But will we find him alive or will we find him dead?"  
  
"My lord, we…"  
  
"Do you think me daft or naïve?" Thranduil exploded, all his anger, worry and fear and for his son and also for his son's friend breaking out of him like a great wave. "I know perfectly well that we will not be able to track these humans in time! We don't even know where to start looking! What if his captors don't demand anything? What if it was a coincidence? What if they don't have a reason to keep him alive? What if he is already dead?"  
  
"Then we shall find them and kill all of them," the silver haired elf said softly, not at all intimidated by his king's outburst. A dark, dangerous sparkle was in his eyes when he looked at the elf in front of him. "We do not know whether the prince still lives or not, but if he is indeed dead, those responsible shall pay dearly for their crimes."  
  
"And my son will still be dead," the blonde elf said tonelessly.  
  
Celythramir's face creased in worry and sorrow, and he quickly bowed his head to hide his emotions. What if Celylith had accompanied the prince, what if it were his son lying in the healing wing, covered with a white sheet? How would he feel if it were his son that had been captured and the prince had left to rescue him, most probably getting himself only into deep trouble himself? The silver haired elf shook his head slightly and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the One that Celylith had not been with Legolas this time, only to feel instantly ashamed and sickened by his own selfishness. If Celylith had been with the prince, everything might have turned out differently. Or, he added darkly, if Estel had been with him. Then again, another part of him piped up sarcastically, they would probably only have got themselves captured together.   
  
"He is not, _mellon nín_," he said quickly, pushing his own troubles aside and grasping his king's forearm, a rare physical contact between the both of them. They had been friends for a long time, but he never forgot that Thranduil was his liege lord as well as a friend and rarely overstepped the unwritten boundaries. "Do not think such things; it will help none of us. Until we have found his body, your son is alive, and any who say otherwise will have to answer to me personally. Legolas needs you to concentrate on finding him; if you lose yourself in grief and despair you will help no-one, least of all him."  
  
For a moment, Thranduil seemed upset about his advisor's words, but then he relaxed again and seemed to sag slightly.  
"You are right," the king admitted tiredly, something that never came easy to him. "I simply cannot bear the thought of losing him, not after I've already lost his mother. I cannot."  
  
"I understand, my friend," the other elf nodded. "If I were to lose my son now, I wouldn't know what to do either. How could I ever face my wife and daughter when I finally sail to the West, bearing the news of his death?"  
  
"But it is something I cannot afford!" the king protested heatedly, his temper rising. "I mustn't put a single elf before the needs of the kingdom, not even if that elf is my son! I cannot think of anything but him, and yet I must! Never before has the burden of kingship weighted on me this heavily, not even in the dark days after my father's death or when … she left us."  
  
Celythramir briefly closed his eyes in remembrance of dark events long past. He knew exactly who "She" was: The long-departed Queen of Mirkwood whose absence was still mourned by her family and subjects alike. He swallowed reflexively. That the king spoke with him about these subjects, no matter how distraught he was, was an enormous sign of trust.  
  
"It is only natural, my lord," he told the irate king who obviously couldn't decide whether he should be angry with his advisor, with himself or with the world in general. "You have mastered such things in the past, and you will again. This is not the first time that your son has managed to get himself into trouble."  
  
"No," Thranduil agreed tiredly, apparently deciding, however reluctantly, that anger wouldn't solve anything right now. "It is not, but I am still not entitled to such feelings."  
  
The golden haired elf briefly reached out and placed a hand on the other's shoulder, holding onto him with a strength that let Celythramir suspect the amount of despair and fear that filled his heart. For a moment, the silver haired elf saw the turmoil of emotions in his liege's eyes before the king withdrew his hand and the shutter that hid his feelings from the rest of the world slammed down, leaving only the calm and emotionless façade he had watched him wear more times in the past than he could count.  
  
"We should return to work, Lord Celythramir," Thranduil told the other elf lord briefly and turned around, walking back to his chair and sitting down again, his eyes fixed once more on the detailed map of the southern part of Mirkwood that was threatening to slide off the wooden table as well.   
  
"We cannot do more about the search grids now. If Legolas is not found today, we shift to the West, South and further East, mile by mile if he have to. Oh, and please inform the warriors that, if they should by any chance run across that ranger, they are to bring him back here, willingly or not. After I have killed him as much as I can without actually _killing _him, I will lock him into the dungeons and keep him there until the twins arrive so they can finish the job."  
  
"As your Majesty commands," the other elf bowed lightly, knowing when he was being dismissed. "The patrols are ready to leave now. I will see them off immediately."  
  
"Do so," Thranduil nodded, his eyes already returning to the papers that were strewn across his table. The blonde elf's eyes didn't leave his tabletop as his advisor nodded as well and slowly retreated, turning around and moving soundlessly into the direction of the doors.   
  
When he had reached the doors and was just reaching out to open them, the soft, nearly trembling voice of his lord stopped him.  
"Lord Celythramir."   
  
The silver haired elf slowly turned to look at his king, green eyes widening slightly when he saw the determined sparkle in the elf lord's eyes.  
"Yes, sire?"  
  
"Find him."  
  
The two words were command, plea and quietly voiced hope in one, and so Celythramir simply nodded his head and stepped out of the king's study, hoping with all his heart that they would be able to follow his lord's order.  
  
  
  
  
For the first time in many hours, Aragorn allowed himself to relax. Yes, he might still be in Mirkwood, surrounded by an uncountable number of things that were just waiting for the opportunity to make him their next meal, under trees that were standing together so closely that he might just as well have been riding in complete darkness, but for the first time since he had left the palace he felt himself relax slightly.  
  
Now that he really thought about it, he mused thoughtfully, he still couldn't believe that he had managed to get out of Thranduil's palace. Well, if he was completely honest with himself, he wouldn't have got out of Mirkwood either, ranger or not.   
  
In the beginning, everything had gone rather well, even though he had nearly broken his neck while climbing down his balcony onto an oak tree that grew right next to it. It had seemed a rather good plan at first – then again, he had been nearly out of his mind with worry and fear at that moment, so that probably didn't count for much – but he had quickly found out that climbing down an ice-covered, slippery tree burdened with as many weapons, blankets and provisions as he could carry, still weakened by illness and his nearly healed wound, was neither easily done nor funny.   
  
He had nearly fallen down several times, and once, when a patrol had passed by the tree in which he had been sitting, he had been sure he had been discovered. That he hadn't been seen was still nothing short of a miracle in his opinion, and he still shuddered to think of what the warriors would have said had they seen him, clinging to that stupid tree, packed as a mule and looking probably like a desperate, untalented and highly ridiculous monkey.  
  
They wouldn't have said anything, he concluded silently. They would have simply collapsed with laughter, and to make proud, dignified wood-elves collapse with laughter was no small feat indeed. This, however, would have done it, he was sure about it. If their positions had been reversed, he would have done the exact same thing, but as it had been, he hadn't thought the situation one bit amusing at all.  
  
Be that as it may, the warriors had not seen him and had moved on, something he had greeted with a short, fervent prayer of thanks to Elbereth. A few minutes later, his feet had hit the ground as soundlessly as possible for a human, and he had been off into the direction of the remotest, most secluded part of the palace's large courtyard. He had needed to dodge several warriors and other elves on his way, and more than once he found himself cursing the moon which seemed to shine particularly bright this night; far, far brighter than usual which was natural of course. When had he ever been lucky in such regards?  
  
At last he had reached the part of the palace wall that Legolas had showed him some time ago; he didn't recall when it had been. Probably during his last visit to his elven friend's home with his brother a little more than a year ago, he concluded now, when Legolas, his brothers and he had wanted to go and hunt spiders at night. The gates had been heavily guarded for orcs had been sighted near the Elvenking's halls, and so Legolas had led them here, to a small, hidden and almost invisible doorway that was, unlike the large, grey stone gates, not magically sealed but only barricaded by many wooden beams and iron bars.  
  
Aragorn's heart constricted with grief, and his hands closed around his horse's reins more tightly when he thought of the amusement and mischief that had gleamed in the elven prince's eyes at that time. It still amazed him how very young Legolas could look, especially when he was enjoying himself or was getting those unfortunate enough to be in his company into trouble. Only that this time, he thought darkly, it was he who was in trouble – in trouble because he had gone alone and had been unable to defend himself against his foes…  
  
The young man wrenched his thoughts away from that topic and picked his train of thought up where he had left it; at the small gate. This night he had managed to get there undetected indeed – but so had someone else…  
  
  
_He was watching the narrow, dark gateway with some suspicion, his body shivering slightly in the night breeze. He knew that he had to cross the distance that lay between himself where he was pressing his body against the smooth, cold surface of a storage building and the passage that would lead him out of the palace, and yet he had the feeling that something was not right.  
  
Aragorn sighed inwardly and looked over his shoulder, for the umpteenth time since leaving his room. In fact, he had done this so many times that he expected his head to remain in the turned position – permanently – if he repeated the action one more time, but he couldn't help himself. His instincts told him that there was something or someone else close, and he had long ago learned to trust his instincts, namely ever since he had had the feeling that it was a bad idea to enter his room when he had been about five years old; one of his earliest memories at all.  
  
And it **had **been a bad idea to enter his room, he nodded, for a second lost in memory, because when he had, a bucket of ice-cold water had come crashing down on him, closely followed by mocking elven laughter he had soon learned to loathe. It hadn't been the most inventive of pranks, true, but he had been only five years old at that time and had therefore been duly impressed by his elven brothers' ingenuity. It had in fact been the point when he had realised that he greatly desired to return the twins' favour, and ever since that day the House of Elrond hadn't been what it had used to be, namely a safe, quiet place of peace and serenity.  
  
With a faint smile on his lips, the ranger turned his attention back to the gate Legolas had shown him so many months ago. He highly doubted that someone had placed a bucket with ice water over it; even though wood-elves were known to be mischievous, he thought it rather unlikely that they would resort to something as childish as that. Besides, he reasoned darkly, the water would have frozen solid in this kind of weather and he would probably get clobbered by it, sustain a nasty head injury and therefore die a most undignified death.  
  
Inwardly, Aragorn snickered and winced to equal parts. It would most certainly be interesting to see what King Thranduil would say if he heard that one of his guests had been slain by an ice-bucket (then again, he wouldn't be there to see it, so the possibility lost some of its appeal), but on the other hand his brothers would be rather annoyed by his untimely demise. Besides, it meant that they would have to break the – __amusing__, but __admittedly bad__ – news to their father, and that was something he wouldn't do to anyone.  
  
The absurdity of his thoughts occurred to him a second later, and with an inward, slightly disgusted shake of his head he decided that he couldn't afford to lose any more time. It had taken him considerably longer than it should have to cover the distance between his room – or rather, his balcony – and this part of the courtyard, and if he didn't get a move on soon, he could have spared himself the whole effort.  
  
He took a deep breath and stepped soundlessly out of the dark shadows that surrounded the storage building, extremely annoyed with the whole situation.  
"I am here. Show yourself; I tire of this game."  
  
For a moment, everything remained silent and unchanged, but then, a few seconds after his softy spoken words, a part of the shadows next to the high, imposing palace walls detached itself and took a few steps forward, and when a beam of moonlight touched it, it emerged as the figure of a solemn-faced, dark haired elf who looked at him with a mixture of disapproval and amusement.  
  
"I had wondered when you would come, dúnadan. To be honest, I hadn't even suspected you to make it this far."  
  
"We all get surprised from time to time, Erelas, even the Firstborn," Aragorn retorted and quickly closed the distance between them, looking once again over his shoulder to make sure that this one was indeed the only elf that had anticipated his actions. Had he really become so predictable and transparent?  
  
"True," the elf nodded. "I should not have underestimated your people, Strider. The prince was right about it."  
  
"He said that?" Aragorn arched an eyebrow as he threw his bags over his shoulder. He added his quiver and bedroll to the ever-growing mountain of satchels and bags on his back and looked up again, straight into the serious blue eyes of the dark haired elf.  
  
"Indeed," Erelas inclined his head. "Does this surprise you?"  
  
"Not at all," the man shook his head, rather annoyed with the other's cool aloofness. How could he behave as if nothing had happened and they were doing nothing but converse politely by the fire? "Legolas is always too kind with his words. As much as I would love to talk with you further, I am afraid I have to go."  
  
The elf's face darkened slightly and he took half a step to the side, placing himself right in front of the small wooden gate.  
"I fear I cannot allow that, Estel. How far do you think you would get on foot anyway?"  
  
"As far as I have to," Aragorn answered curtly and stepped forward another few inches, not really wanting to quarrel with the elf about this topic, but highly unwilling to let himself be contained here. "If you knew I was coming, then why are you here alone, without the rest of your men? I am even sure that the king and most of the court would have been more than willing to accompany you here, and be it only to see me thrown into the dungeons."  
  
Erelas' eyes narrowed a little and he opened his mouth to speak, but the young ranger was not yet finished, believing he knew what the other wanted to say.  
  
"Believe me, Master Elf, I do not do this out of impudence or because I enjoy it to disobey orders. I know that the king doesn't wish me to leave, and I honour his decisions of course, as any of his guests should. Yet my own honour demands that I help my friend, and if I have to disobey his father's orders to do so, so be it. I have thought long and hard about this, Master Erelas, you can trust me on this. If there were any other way, I would gladly choose it, but there isn't. I have to go, and I have to go now, or it will be too late."  
  
Aragorn closed his mouth with a snap and glared at the elf with a dark, thunderous expression on his face. Erelas, however, did none of the things the man expected him to do. All he did was cock his head to the side and smile, his eyes gleaming in the – still frightfully bright – moonlight.  
  
"I know that, Strider. I know you do not act rashly. That is why I am here."  
  
"I do not understand," Aragorn shook his head, truly puzzled now. What was Erelas talking about? "I thought you…"  
  
The elf's smile widened. How very nice he was amused by all this, Aragorn thought darkly.  
  
"You misunderstand me, ranger. I do not wish to keep you here, I merely wish to make sure that you get farther than two miles before the guards catch you."  
  
"I …I don't…"  
  
"I see that you don't understand," Erelas smiled, no, grinned. "There is a horse waiting for you in the small copse of trees next to the exit on the other side. If you leave now, you will still have several hours before anyone notices you are gone."  
  
With an effort, the young ranger picked his jaw off the snow-covered ground and blinked.  
"You are not trying to stop me?"  
  
"Stop you?" Erelas asked with an air of great surprise. "In Elbereth's name, no! It would be futile, and if the king weren't so distraught, as all of us are, he would see it as well. Far be it from my mind to fight the inevitable, and this is the only way to ensure that you don't get yourself killed while trying to climb over the palace gates or something similarly foolish that would most certainly greatly embarrass King Thranduil when your brothers arrive here."  
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes; this was simply too good to be true. Then again, who was he to refuse a gift the Valar had just dropped into his lap?  
"I thank you," he said slowly and looked at the dark haired being that gazed back at him, unperturbed. "But I will only accept your help if you promise me that you won't get into any trouble for aiding me. Will your men at the gates not notice your absence?"  
  
The elf waved his hand dismissively.  
"My men know where I am and what I am doing, or they do not deserve to call themselves warriors of Mirkwood. They will not tell anyone of my absence, and should someone inquire about my whereabouts, I am sure they will come up with a most convincing appointment I had to keep. My lieutenant is quite inventive, and he is also a relative of Galalith, I believe. He will do anything to cover up for me, believe me."  
  
"You should not have to do this," Aragorn protested, already more than willing to accept the other's offer, but still reluctant to get him into any kind of trouble with his superiors. "Not for me."  
  
"You misunderstand me again, ranger," Erelas shook his head softly. "I might have done something like this for you, maybe. I honestly don't know. I am doing this for my prince, because I know you can find him. I don't know how I know that or why I know that; I simply do. My men and I would do anything to help Prince Legolas, and, as you so eloquently put it, if I have to disobey his father's orders to do so, so be it."  
  
"That is a rather thin line you walk there, Master Elf."  
  
"Yes," the elf nodded seriously, "Yes, it is." He bowed his head and stepped aside, motioning the man towards the already opened gate. "I have made sure that the guards who are responsible for this sector will return in fifteen minutes at the earliest, which should give you more than enough time to get out of sight. Good luck, and may the Valar's grace go with you to whichever dark place you may walk."  
  
Aragorn knew when it was foolish to question someone any further, and so he simply gave Erelas a slight bow and turned to the gate in front of him, sparing the white, gleaming snow that lay behind it only a short glance before he turned back to the dark haired elf, eyes large and dark in his face.  
  
"I thank you again, Erelas. I know what it cost you to do this, and for that you have my gratitude, if you did it for me or not. If there is anything I can do to…"  
  
Erelas raised a hand and interrupted the young man.  
"Just find him, Estel. That is all we ask."  
  
"I will," Aragorn vowed seriously, his eyes never leaving the elf's face. "I swear by Ilúvatar himself that I will, by any means necessary." The elf simply bowed his head, and Aragorn was about to walk through the open gateway when a sudden thought seemed to strike him, causing him to turn back in mid-stride, a teasing sparkle suddenly appearing in his eyes.   
  
"And if anyone finds out about this nonetheless and asks you why you have helped me, simply claim that I surprised you and forced you to aid me."  
  
Erelas had already turned around to head back to the main gates when the softly spoken, humourous words reached his ears, causing him to freeze on the spot in indignation.  
"That you 'surprised' me? That you 'forced' me?"  
  
In the matter of half a second he had turned around, blue eyes blazing.  
"What is that supposed to mean, Master Human?"  
  
Now it was the elf's turn to blink in surprise __–__ which he did __–__ for all his glare met were empty space and air. Where the ranger had stood a mere second ago there was nothing, and the first, cursory examination didn't show him __even __a single track that might indicate where he had gone. Erelas shook his head slowly, taken aback. How had he done it? It shouldn't be possible for one of the Second People to move so soundlessly or quickly!  
  
Erelas slowly reached out to close the gate again and nimbly fitted the many bolts that secured it, all the while mumbling softly under his breath. You tried to help people and this was the thanks you got!  
"Surprised me … surprised me, impertinent human – that is an outrage! I knew he was going to disappear, as if he could surprise me, not in a thousand years would he manage to do that, that little…"  
  
A second later he realised that he was rambling and closed his mouth firmly, inwardly still fuming. He had never, ever, known a person that could infuriate him as easily as Strider! For a moment he remained where he was, staring at the closed door in front of him as if he could see right through it to look upon the man who had just disappeared so skilfully and offering the Valar what they wanted in return for his prince's __and __the man's __safe return.  
  
Then Erelas turned around and left, and a few minutes later he assumed his post at the gates to the knowing smiles of his men, acting as if nothing of interest had happened at all._  
  
  
Aragorn shook his head slightly. If it hadn't been for Erelas, he would never have got as far as he had, he was sure about it. He had of course known that his chances of success were slim to none, but that hadn't deterred him at all from trying. He _had _to try and find Legolas, and if he was captured while trying – be it by King Thranduil's warriors or anyone else – then that was a risk he was more than prepared to take.  
  
And, he decided with a wry grin, patting his horse's neck, considering his luck, he would probably be captured by someone. His brothers were insisting that he was unable to go anywhere without being captured, injured, bitten or otherwise hurt, and, no matter how reluctantly, he was slowly beginning to agree with them.  
  
It was of course Legolas' fault, that much was clear. True, he had got into trouble before he had met the prince, but not nearly in as much or as serious trouble. So, he concluded, it was the elf's fault, and that was exactly what he was going to tell him once he found him – and after he had killed the ones who had killed Galalith and wounded Anardir.  
  
Yes, he thought darkly, that sounded like a very good plan, if King Thranduil's warriors didn't catch him before he had even got out of Mirkwood, that was. He wasn't seriously worried about it; especially since he knew that the Elvenking had much more pressing problems at hand and had other things to do than send out scouts to look for him.   
  
But still, it remained a possibility, even though midday had already come and gone and the shadows that lay heavily on the trees were beginning to deepen. There had been no sign of pursuers yet, and he was beginning to hope that he had really done it and managed to escape the palace undetected – and alive. He harboured no illusions about the way Legolas' father would greet his sudden disappearance, and he knew that the best he could hope for in case that he really was detected by a patrol was an extended stay in the dungeons, even though the much more likely possibility was definitely a painful, dishonourable death.  
  
'Ah well,' he shrugged inwardly and spurred on his horse slightly, 'It's not as if I haven't been threatened with that before.' That thought served to cheer him up a little, and he quickly pushed back his hood and raised his head to the sky that was obscured by the dark, interwoven canopies of the trees to check if he was still going in the right direction, something that was rather hard to achieve, especially for a human who wasn't familiar with the terrain. And the snow that was still falling and was limiting the visibility to about half a dozen feet didn't help matters either.  
  
He had gone north-east for a little while (just in case someone found his tracks and decided to follow him) before he had turned sharply to the south, heading now south-east instead of south-west as everyone would certainly expect him to do. To the south-west lay the place where Legolas had been taken, after all, and all would expect him to go there first – but that was only one part of the reason why he didn't.  
  
The other part was harder to explain, even to himself. One other reason that he was going south-east was that, if he were the leader of a group of humans and had just captured an elf in King Thranduil's realm, it was what he would have done. He had seen maps of the area where Legolas had been captured, and if he were the leader of the men, he would make south-east as quickly as possible. Most of the elves Aragorn had spoken with had claimed that the humans had probably gone straight east as their tracks indicated; what had remained of them had led into the direction of the forest's edge, straight as a line drawn into the snow.  
  
And that, Aragorn thought darkly, was exactly what was worrying him. It was too easy. The man who had planned this was no fool, something which was proven by the fact that he had managed to get his men in – and, until now, out – of Mirkwood without them being turned into pincushions. No, he shook his head, causing a small shower of snow to rain down on his shoulders, he was no fool at all. And if he was no fool, these tracks had been left there on purpose – yet another thing he himself would have done if he were in the man's place.  
  
No, Aragorn was certain that the humans had headed south-east instead of east, because, even though that route didn't lead out of Mirkwood as quickly as the eastern one, it was the only way to circumvent Lake-town. The men wouldn't want to risk encountering anyone who might ask them questions about their intentions – and they would definitely be asked questions by any Lake-man they encountered, for the inhabitants of Esgaroth held great love and respect for any of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood, and to see a wood-elf bound in the company of unknown men would be enough to make any of them suspicious.  
  
Still, it had been a hopeless task convincing the proud wood-elves that men were cleverer and craftier than they, and Aragorn had given up before he had even truly tried. Even Lord Celythramir had simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow that had reminded Aragorn eerily of the elf's son when he had carefully hinted that the men might be doing this on purpose and were anticipating them to follow them straight east, and that had been the point when he had realised that, if he failed to convince the silver haired elf, he could easily spare himself the work of trying to convince the Elvenking. Thranduil's pride and his unshakable belief that the elven race was far superior to all others were well-known in Mirkwood and beyond, and to try and convince him that common humans may have proven to be more cunning than his own warriors was something that could only be termed futile, foolish and a complete waste of time.  
  
And time was something he could not afford to lose, because his feelings of dread and danger had been steadily growing worse and stronger, and there he was at the true reason why he was travelling south-east instead of east: Apart from the fact that it was the logical thing to do for the humans' leader and the fact that the wood-elves would least expect it of him, he simply _knew _that Legolas was south-east. He didn't know where this feeling originated, and had he had no other reason to believe that his friend's captors had taken this way, he would hardly have chosen to follow his feelings, but this way he was willing to give it a try.   
  
As long as he found Legolas he didn't care in the slightest if he had done it by following tracks, obscure feelings or imaginary talking squirrels that only he could see. No, wait a second, he corrected inwardly, he would be willing to accept imaginary squirrels that pointed him in the right direction, but imaginary _talking _squirrels would be too much. That would be a downright crazy thing to see.  
  
Not at all disturbed by the fact that anyone who would have heard these thoughts would have done a double take, would have declared him totally and utterly mad and would then have sent him back home trussed up like an animal – all for his own good, of course – he nodded to himself as he once again made sure that he was indeed going south-east. Squirrels – the non-talking sort, of course – would be highly appreciated right now, for even though he tried to tell himself time and again that his reasoning was sound and that he would find Legolas and his captors to the south-east, a tiny, persistent part of him remained ever doubtful. It refused to be silenced and continued to whisper teasingly in his mind, telling him that he would never find the elf and that what he was doing was a rare mix of foolishness, presumptuousness and sheer stupidity.  
  
All those were terms his brothers would use once they got here, the very same part of his mind informed him in a tone of voice that managed to sound both frosty and gleeful at once. His brothers. The young ranger hung his head, this consideration serving to break through the circle of fear, worry and doubt.  
  
No, he thought, Elladan and Elrohir would not be happy to arrive in Mirkwood and hear that he had gone after Legolas, and yet he knew they would understand. Well, they would understand after they had flown into one of their over-protective fits of fury and had cursed him and his stubbornness in every tongue they knew – which would take several days, if he wasn't very much mistaken.   
  
Still, he would make sure that he did not cross their way any time in the near future – not that that should be hard, considering the way things were going right now. He was feeling guilty of course, not only for leaving the palace against the king's wishes but even more for leaving before the twins had arrived. They would have accompanied him, he was certain about it, but he had been unable to wait any longer, about that he was even more certain.   
  
He couldn't get the images he had seen in his dreams out of his head, the images of his elven friend suffering and in pain; and the elusive, shadowy, pressing knowledge in the back of his mind, an inexplicable knowledge that Legolas would die in agony if he didn't find him soon, were nearly enough to drive him out of his mind with worry.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, a cold shiver racing across his back that was owed to equal parts to the icy air around him and the memory of what he had seen last night. He had promised King Thranduil something, even though he hadn't been able to make that promise in person, and he intended to keep his vow, and if that was the last thing he ever did. He spurred on his horse again, causing it to pick up the pace and trot more quickly down the small, winding path that led south-east.  
  
He would find Legolas, no matter how long it would take or what he had to do to achieve it. He would not sit back and wait for his dreams to come true, and even if they did not and turned out to be what he secretly expected – namely dreams, and nothing more – he would not suffer Legolas to remain the captive of a group of men who thought they could simply walk into Mirkwood, attack a patrol, kill and injure members of said patrol, grab the prince and walk out again, all at their own leisure.   
  
Oh no, he thought darkly, he would find these humans and teach them that there were some things one simply did not do in an elven realm, and that the aforementioned things fell straight under that category.  
  
And if his visions were true and these people had indeed hurt his elven friend, then may Eru show them mercy, for he would not.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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mellon nín - my friend  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger_  
  
  
  
  
**Yes, yes, yes, Aragorn is not exactly a happy camper right now. Neither is Thranduil, or Celythramir, or Erelas, or ... well, let's just say they're ALL no happy campers right now. *g* So, before you have a mental breakdown, yes, next chapters we will return to Legolas, and yes, the twins will also arrive. Good, eh? That and much more should be here on ... Wednesday or Thursday, I think. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and cherished. *g* It's sad, I know, but they make me happy. So: Review, please?  
  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Aratfeniel** - Yeah, as I said, they'll be here next chapter, don't worry. LOL, Legolas is indeed an impudent elf - and a rather stupid one too, but that's another story... *g* So, a Happy New Year to you too! *huggles*  
**LOTRFaith** - Well, I'm sure you had a reason for not reviewing. I mean, there is allegedly something called "real life". Don't ask me where, that's just what I've heard... *g* Thanks, my Christmas was rather enjoyable, I hope the same goes for yours too? And, thanks again, I'm rather certain that 2004 will be the best 2004 I've ever had... *g* No, j/k, thanks! *huggles as well*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Oh yes, Legolas will still have some antagonising to do, but not that much now that I think about it. Teonvan is mad, he doesn't really need much encouragement... I do of course not know what kind of images you're getting, but this will stay PG-13, trust me. I think you're getting the right images though, and Teonvan would just love to get his hands on our favourite elven prince in that way, yes. But he won't. I coudn't write something like that... *shudders* Well, as I said in the A/N, I've always thought Aragorn more responsible, even though he's rarely described that way on FF.net. And you're right, Antartica sounds like a very good idea... *g*   
**Deana** - Thank you! It's great to hear that you still like it, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long. Well, okay, I might have, but... *trails off* Ah, whatever. Thanks for the review!  
**Red Tigress** - *g* Yeah, well, I did that only once when I was about 13 or 14 I think. It hurt like hell though, and the doctors said I was lucky I hadn't lost my right hand. *grimaces* Nili the One-handed doesn't sound too good, at least not as good as Beren the One-handed, now does it? *g* So, everything's alright here, I'm happy YOU didn't blow yourself up, and thanks for all your reviews!  
**E** - Well, no. I'm sorry it sounded like that, but Teonvan hasn't 'played' with an elf before. He usually 'plays' with younger men, and no, I _won't_ go into detail here. In fact, Teonvan doesn't really care that Legolas is an elf, it's just an added bonus of sorts since that makes him prettier... *grimaces* Well, I can't really become more unambiguous than that, can I? And, as I said, I think Aragorn would have stayed, but that's a matter of personal opinion. *g*   
**Cicci** - Oh, of course the twins will be a pair of happy, happy elves. Who wouldn't be? *g* Yeah, let's just say that the hostility between the bad guys will cause trouble for them, but not really in the way you think, methinks. Then again, who am I to say what you think? Hmm, about the sticking-your-head-into-water-bit: You don't do that? I mean, it's what _I_ do when I have a nightmare, well, maybe not stick it in completely, but close enough. It always helps to wake up completely, trust me... *g* And yes, Celylith is making a reappearance, he will in fact be back next chapter. *g* Yay Celylith!  
**Nikara** - I guess no-one was really surprised; that might be because Aragorn is a stupid human and we all know that. *g* And just how did you know that Legolas wouldn't be the only one in need of a rescue? *suspicious look* Are you psychic?  
**Marbienl** - I agree: 28 is quite a nice number. I hope to be able to do 28 chapters, even though I doubt it somehow. Uhm, about that one sentence: No, _Anardir_ would probably glad to die and join in friend in the Halls of Mandos. I knew it was slightly ambiguous, but I was too lazy to change it. *sheepishly* Sorry. But I agree: Hithrawyn probably doesn't like Aragorn all that much, one could even say not at all, I think. I wonder why? *g* And no, Teonvan wasn't talking about another elf, just about another prisoner. Btw, I'm glad you liked Frór and that you got Anca back, but I don't think that they would get along so well. Don't you remember The Hobbit? The dwarves were nearly eaten there! And yes, you're right, Anardir and Galalith were/are innocent. That simply makes them easier to pick on! *evil grin*  
**Mouse5** - LOL, 'as sure as God made little green apples'? Well, I don't know about that, but you might be right about the trees. Partly, at least. Don't worry, we WILL find out about the evil lord and his motives, but you're confusing me to be honest. What poor soul? You mean Teonvan's last prisoner? Well, he was just a young man I guess (no, I won't go into detail here), perhaps I'll even write a bit more about him. We'll see. *g*  
**Zinnith** - *gasp* They don't have internet? How did you survive?? *g* No, j/k, I've spent months without computer access myself. It's doable, not easy, but doable... *g* The answer, however, is a laptop. *huggles her laptop* Wonderful machines, truly. I'm glad though that you understand that Galalith had to die and that yes, he will stay dead, too. I hate it too when people die only to be resurrected later... Well, I don't know about pansies, but I do know that all elves look gay. They just do, it's genetic or something... *g* I know exactly what line you mean. It's one of my favourites too. Btw, thank you. *takes carrot and gives it to Rashwe* Rashwe: *munches happily* And the second one... *gives carrot to Aragorn* Aragorn: Huh? What? *drops carrot which promptly impales him* Hmm, yes, you were right. Shouldn't have given it to him, huh?   
**Dha-Gal** - *takes Skittles with a bow* I really think you shouldn't be giving my alter ego so many Skittles. They have a truly destructive influence on her... *shrugs* Ah, well, we can't be predictable, can we? So, I hope you'll forgive me for letting Aragorn leave now, but otherwise it would be far too easy. *evil grin* So you're the official Rub-Inner? That's definitely bad news... *g* Wow, thank you! *huggles* I'm the *Official Elf- and Ranger-Torturer'! Thanks a lot!! And no, we didn't tape _all_ our fingers, I was exaggerating. We merely taped the ones we had injured before - you know, sprained, cracked, broken, bruised... *g*   
**Gwyn** - LOL, okay, so perhaps it was a steep downward slope. But that's the usual in my fics, sorry... *g* And yeah, don't worry, the angst factor will most definitely go up. You can never have enough angst, can you? Don't worry: Celylith will be back next chapter, and the twins will arrive too. Yay them!  
**Halfling** - You're right, it IS a vicious circle, more than you may realise now. It's going to get rather ridiculous in the end I fear... It is cold, that's true, and I certainly wouldn't want to be out there at the moment. Aragorn is one stupid ranger indeed - or exceedingly stubborn. Then again, maybe he's both. LOL, Reran the popsicle! That's an interesting idea - rather unlikely, but interesting nonetheless... *g*  
**Calenore** - Hmm, I'd say Hithrawyn is the scariest because he's _supposed_ to be on your side. Plus you're not allowed to kill him. Yet I agree; Hithrawyn would never - permanently - harm his liege's son. I think he simply loathes Legolas while he _hates_ Aragorn. *g* *blinks* Of course, riiiiiiigght - bad men have bad boots. Therefore all the boots in the camp are evil. *pats shoulder reassuringly* Sure thing. *g*  
**Iverson** - Yes, poor Aragorn is not quite as mature and reasonable and wise and all that as the Elves. Poor him. *huggles resisting ranger* You'll get better at acting all grown-up and wise, darling. (Aragorn: *scowls*) *blushes* It's nice of you to say that you like 'my' Thranduil - to be perfetly honest, I think he's horribly OOC. I have no choice because I think that the 'real' Thranduil would rather cut off one of his own arms than befriend Elrond for example. He would ruin my stories, and we can't have that, can we? *g* Well, Aragorn would do well to heed your words, but that would be a sign of intelligence. *shakes head* Nope, not gonna happen. *g* **Silvertoekee** - Well, the 'vile man' might harm him, you know. *hastily* Later. Not now. And not really badly, just a little near-death-experience, you know - oops, did I just say that out loud? Just forget it, alright? *g* And yes, the twins will arrive next chapter, don't worry. A promise is a promise, after all. *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - *holds bandages hand to chest* No, it did NOT bite me! You failed! Mhahahahahah! *evil grin* And I'll have you know that I wonÄt die a slow, painful, agonising, yaddayaddayadda death. I eat orc poison for breakfast - literally! You can't harm me, I'm immune! Mhahahahahaha! (Jeez, I've got to stop doing that! *g*) So, I won't remedy anything - besides, quite a few people liked the nightmares. Found them 'scrumptous', 'wonderful' and 'yummy' - sadists, the whole lot of them, but I can't disappoint them, now can I? But I can of course assure you that everything will turn out Okay in the end - all depends on your definition of Okay though... *g* I don't know Ever After, but I'll admit that, as tirades go, it was a good one. Well done. *pats her shoulder*  
**Merryelf** - Whohoo! I got a lurker! *huggles* Thanks for de-lurking! I always love to hear from people who aren't my _faithful, loyal, wonderful_ (*g*) reviewers - it's a sign that more than 40 people read my stories, which is great to know. Well, I hate to tell you that the twins will be in chapter 12 rather than 11., but there was nothing I could do! They refused to shit up! *blinks* You tell your families about ... about this? About the sloth? Whoah... Interesting... Once again, thanks for the review, I really do love them!  
**Bookwork, .303** - That is a most interesting penname! It's definitely unusual... So, as I said in the A/N, the twins will arrive in the next chapter. not exactly in Mirkwood itself, but they'll make an appearance, I promise. It won't be soon enough to stop Aragorn, but it WILL be soon enough so they can feel guilty for missing him.*g* I'm evil, don't tell me.  
**Sirithiliel** - Yup, Legolas is going to kill them - IF he gets loose. *evil grin* That's the interesting word about it. Great you liked that one bit, and thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews!  
**Strider's Girl** - Well, I guess Aragorn didn't want to take the chance that the twins were late. You can never know what happens suring such a journey, and they might easily have been held up for several days. Hmm, about your prediction: Let's say that at least one of the three will happen. Yes, most definitely. I don't know about the other two, but that might happen as well. We all know his luck, after all. Hey, wait! It's your birthday today! *huggles* Happy Birthday!!!! I hope you had/are still having a great day and got lots of lovely presents!!  
**Starlight** - Ja, ich gebe zu, dass er es _eigentlich_ wissen muesste. Aber er ist - wie du ja auch feststelltest - ein wenig dumm, der Gute, und man kann darum nicht gerade erwarten, dass er intelligente Dinge tut, oder? LOL, du hast Recht, haette er auf Elladan und Elrohir gewartet, haetten sich die Unfaelle wahrscheinlich sogar noch multipliziert, wenn das ueberhaupt moeglich ist. Und wie ich in den A/N sagte, nein, ich bin nicht krank, ich wurde nur mal wieder Opfer der Distanzen. Du wirst schon noch sehen, was ich meine, und wenn man keine plot holes haben moechte... *g* Was soll man schon machen??  
**LegolasLover2004** - Uhm ... well, yes. There will be elf torture, you blood-thirsty creature. *g* Don't worry, but not in the next few chapters, sorry.   
**Firegirl353 - **So it might make up for killing Galalith? Well, then that's what we're going to do, hmm? *g* LOL, CANKE? That's a very interesting idea, truly... And yes, I did know about Arod and Brego, even though the movie people made Brego up I'm afraid. The horse's name Éomer gave to Aragorn was Hasufel, as they showed in the movie as well. Legolas' horse's name was Arod, that's correct, but there was no Brego. The horse Aragorn used on his way to Gondor via the Paths of the Dead was Roheryn, a gift from Arwen, which the Rangers of the Grey Company brought with them south from Arnor. *re-reads sentence and hangs head* Another lecture, sorry. You shouldn't get me started, really. *g* And yes, we will find out who the lord is and what he wants, don't worry. But you're exaggerating, you haven't been waiting for 40 chapters yet - only 36, that's a difference! *evil grin* A Thranduil fic? Well, I'll think about it - I have too many possible stories floating through my head though, so... *shrugs* And of course I'll read your story! Just give me the URL or send me an email, I'd love to read it! And yes, to the East there are many things - the good thing about Rhûn is that so little is known about it! And I'm not on the track team, I'm just very good at hiding! *g*  
**Orlandofan13** - LOL, who doesn't love fanfic? It's a wonderful way to relax - not for poor Aragorn and Legolas or their families, but for everyone else... *evil grin* So you're new to this, huh? Well, an OC is an Original Character, one that is not canon and has been created by the author, like Celylith, Hithrawyn and lots of others in this story. A Mary-Sue is .. a plague, a cancer I tell you!!! *takes deep breath* Sorry, but I HATE Mary-Sues. Well, a Mary-Sue is a perfect, mostly female OC that falls in love with one of the main characters, in this genre mainly with Legolas. They're always perfect in every way: Are beautiful, kind, have had a difficult, tormented childhood, fiery, spirited, fight much better than Aragorn and Legolas combined yaddayaddayadda. Authors of these stories usually haven't read the books, their characters are OOC (Out of Character) and they don't even know what the word canon means. Can you tell I hate them? Nah, probably not... *g*  
**Elvendancer** - Well, it's getting much MORE exciting, I think. But that's only my opinion... You really stayed up till 2 o'clock? Wow, that's dedication... *g* Thanks a lot for taking the time to review, I really DO love reviews! *huggles*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Well, yes, you DO outrank me at the moment! But I COULD persuade all the other Valar to rebel against you, get Melkor back from the void and make WAR on you!!! What about that! Manwë does what I tell him anyway, so it should be easy enough!! Well, and Thranduil doesn't really expect Aragorn to listen to him, you'll see. It didn't do him any good, but he tried. *g* Hmm, Teonvan reminds rather a lot of people of Donyc - am I getting repetitive? Am I??? *panicked* Please tell me I'm not! And yes, that little incident in Straight Paths was the one in ch.2 of THOM. One and the same. *g*  
**Zam** - LOL, you fight about the bathroom with your newly acquired armies? That's interesting - and perfectly understandable, sometimes I would LOVE to kill my sister for spending AGES in the bathroom... *g* And, somehow, I think I recognise that "What say you". I don't know wherefrom either... *g* I don't really see how Thranduil could take 'greedy son of an orc' for a compliment, but if there's one person who can manage that, it's definitely Thranduil. *g* Hmm, will E and E go with Aragorn to find Legolas ... hmmm, no? Sorry... *flees* So Celylith's beginning to like, uhm, love you? That's good! Congrats! And you have a torture sense? Wow.  
**Shauna** - No, of course it wasn't fair. Whoever said that life was fair? I certainly didn't... *g* I'm sorry though, I liked him as well. Well, you're going to see both Thranduil's reaction and what Aragorn does to get out of the healing wing, yay! And you're right, there isn't going to be any fighting in this one. Well, you can't have everything, I guess... *g*  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - You're right, if I were in Aragorn's place I would have gone insane a long time ago. A long, LONG time ago... *g* You're right, the king and his councilmen did a pretty good job - they aren't councilmen for nothing! Or is that councilelf? Hmmmm... And you're right, the palace guard is indeed on alert, not that that would have helped much... Poor guards. LOL, you're right, Aragorn might be young and uncertain, but he definitely know that the dreams are NOT GOOD. That's a start, isn't it?  
**Crystal-Rose15** - I don't see your problem - your review is still huge! If you write things like this when you're tired... *g* Anyway, thanks! *blushes until she resembles a beetroot* Thanks a lot for your compliments! It's great that you like the story so much, and yes, German is indeed my first language. It's ugly, but what can I do? *g* And yes, there's only one more chapter (this one) until the twins arrive, don't worry! LOL, the 'spirit of making fun of Legolas'? Poor elf... *g*  
**Maerz** - Na, wenn du WEISST, dann werde ich doch gar nichts sagen. Wollte ich ja auch gar nicht. Ehrlich. *g* Dass dein Drucker allerdings noch nicht den Geist aufgegeben hat, wundert mich schon sehr? Diese Geschichten sind doch nicht zum AUSDRUCKEN gedacht, mein Kind... *schuettelt Kopf* Dein armer Drucker... Und Recht hast du mit dem Freund! Mein letzter wurde abserviert, weil er _zu viel_ sollte - ich kann klammern nicht ausstehen. Andereseits sind Freunde ja auch was ganz Nettes, nicht wahr? *g*   
**Firniswin** - So, whenever I stop a chapter it's a cliffy? That's an interesting way of seeing it, really... Unhealthy too, I'd imagine. How do you do it? Uhm, I'm confused now. Whom shouldn't I kill? Aragorn? Legolas? Thranduil? Anardir? Sorry, a little confused here... *g* Sorry for this next 'cliffy'!   
**Laebeth** - *grins sheepishly* Well, Teonvan doesn't really know what or what not Legolas has already been through, does he? Since he had no great, visible scars there's no way for him to know, is there? And believe me, there are quite a lot of things Legolas (or Aragorn, for that matter) hasn't been through yet. But you're right, especially with Cassia around it's hard to come up with anything new. Very hard, to be honest... Great you like this though, and thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Alilacia** - Well done! You beat FF.net - a rare feat! Bow before Alilacia, the conqueror of FF.net, the evil site from hell! *everything bows to Alilacia* *g* Really, congrats! FF.net is weirder than ever lately... To be honest, I would like to see a younger Estel as well. He must have been a very cute child... Three night shifts in a row? When I was working in Switzerland for four months I did all the night shifts as well, but I could sleep as long as I wanted to in the mornings. I really hope you managed to get some sleep by now! Most people tend to react strangely when they've had too little sleep for a few days... *gives Alialcia furtive glances*  
**Suzi9** - *g* What kind of music does your father like, then? It really can't be THAT bad, now can it? Well, to be honest, I haven't really seen that much of open Scottish-English hatred when I was up there, but I wasn't travelling with English people either. I guess they like us better up there - do they? *gives Suzi innocent stare* We're quite nice actually... *g* I knew that Old English is the language of the Rohirrim - if you see it written down somewhere you can understand quite a lot actually. Don't you have to learn that at school? We had to - Old German, of course. It was horrible, one of the worst things I've ever had to learn... *shudders* And I am doing a course on Scandinavian Runes at the moment as well, and I already know Latin! I rule! Ah yes, I like to rub it in... *evil grin* And about the Mirkwood thing: I went to a bookstore and had a look at that book. Well, it was more of a coincidence really, but still. So, to be honest, there is a small problem with it: I have honestly no idea where this man got that from, since, at the time he's describing, most of Germania was covered with forests. So, it might have been a smaller part of a large forest, but not an entire, big one. Go have a look at , it's a map of Germania between 12 BC and 16 AD. The dark green areas are woods, as are the light green ones. See the problem? And no, I haven't hurt poor Celylith. Promise. Not yet, anyway... *evil grin* The 'last one' was just a nameless prisoner I think. I won't say anything about that "last kidnapping attempt" here, I may write a story about it. Someday. *g*  
**Daft Donald** - Yes, you're not the first one actually. I had another person asking me for that - I think for Aragorn though. You're right, it would be an interesting 'experiment', but I'm sorry to say that it won't happen in this story. Trust me, I gave it considerable thought and it's not doable, it would result in getting both Aragorn and Legolas killed, and we don't want that, do we? I might put it into another story though, I promise. Great you like my weird story, and thank a lot for reviewing!  
**Bailey** - Uhm, to answer that question: No, he isn't. Not very smart, I mean. And don't worry, I'm sure you're not the only one who loves it when they get into trouble. I do as well, for example. The review was long enough actually, thanks! *huggles*  
**LUce1** - Well, can't you guess what Aragorn's going to do? Something STUPID, of course... *g* And I promise to TRY and not do anything too bad to them. But you know, there's this evil alter ego and she really LOVES it when people are hurt and... *shrugs* I can't guarantee it, that's all I'm saying. *g*  
**Leggylover03** - Yes, Estel's good as gone, in fact, he IS gone. Hmm, what Thranduil says once he finds out that he's missing you'll see this chapter, I'm not sure whether we'll see Elrond's reaction in this story though. I doubt it. *shrugs* Can't have everything, can you?   
**Karone Evertree** - Doesn't matter, really. One can easily jump to the conclusion that the two are related, and it wouldn't really matter if they were. They were both freaks, so there. *g* And don't worry, it won't be too long before Aragorn finds Legolas. I think something like ch. 15. Not too bad, huh?  
**Snow-Glory** - One story a night, huh? That's pretty fast, really... Well done! *claps on back* Indeed, well done! I agree though: Elrond and Thranduil are truly to be pitied. Then, however: Who says that Elladan and Elrohir are NOT going to get involved in the whole mess? There's much that can yet happen in this story... *evil grin* LOL, yes, I can indeed imagine that particular picture! You're right, Aragorn won't be very happy once he finds the elf... It's great to hear that you've onjoyed my other weird stories and this one as well, and thanks a lot for taking the time to review! *huggles*  
**Grumpy** - Thank you, I think Aragorn liked the present as well. You can never have enough furs, I think, especially not when you're the only human among elves... *g* I have no idea either why so many people seem to think that Thranduil would abuse his children or more precisely Legolas. I mean, there was NOTHING that ever hinted at that in Tolkien's stories! *shakes head* And you're right, there are loads of bad Legolas stories out there. LOADS. It's sad, really.  
**Elenora1** - I know, I know, 'Real Life' can be rather annoying. It doesn't stop demanding one's attention... *sighs* Really persistant. Ah yes, Anardir ... you'll have to wait a bit to see what happens to him, I'm afraid. Quite a bit, actually. And the fun thing is that Teonvan doesn't even hate ELVES. He hates Legolas. You'll see, but it's not about his race this time. It's about him being a proud, obnoxious creature. *g* Sorry for keeping you waiting, and it does indeed give me thrills to know how much you're anticipating a new chapter! Mhahahahaha, I'm so evil! *runs off cackling madly*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Well - yes. I think you could say that as well. Stupid, thoughtless ideas - plus bad karma, I think. *g* Poor them, really.  
  
**Now I must depart, I'm off to the cinema to see this new Tom Cruise-Samurai-movie. I think it's going to be really good! It has to be better than "The Hulk". I just saw a bit of that again - and boy, it's bad! *g***   
  
  
  
  



	12. Nighttime Conversations

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
It is very nice to hear that you liked the talking imaginary squirrels. Squirrels can be vicious beasts, especially the talking ones, and can be truly dangerous when they feel insulted. *nods* Believe me, people, they're evil. Especially the grey ones.   
  
*blinks*** **Oookaaaaay, let's just pretend I never said that, right? I don't know what I was thinking either... *g* Be that as it may, I think I have to apologise that this chapter is later than I wanted it to, even though I have to stress that I didn't post _too_ late. College is rather chaotic right now, and it's very well possible that I'm going to post every six ****rather ****than every five days. I'm sorry about that, and I promise that, barring an earthquake (which we don't have here), a family emergency (which does happen from time to time)** **or a pipe burst (which we did have on Sunday), it will never be longer than six days. Really.** ***crosses fingers behind her back and smiles reassuringly*  
  
Oh, and let me just say that "The Last Samurai" is a really good movie. I am not a great Tom Cruise fan and never will be, I fear, but he wasn't too bad, and the movie itself was very good. I enjoyed it quite a lot, even though it's not exactly the most cheerful movie ever produced.   
  
  
Well, to the more important things. Even if it's a little bit later than I wanted, the next chapter's here, and yes, it's the one in which Celylith makes a reappearance and the twins arrive, don't worry. *g* I missed them too. *huggles elven twins and Celylith* I have to announce that there'll be no Aragorn in this chapter - I know, I know, I'm evil. He'll be back next chapter, don't worry. And we still have lots of elf musings, the arrival of the two most annoying elven twins of all times, a rather stressed reborn elf lord** **and much more. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
  
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Chapter 12  
  
  
Night was falling, and darkness was slowly beginning to lay itself over the lands. It was a slow, almost painful-looking process, for it seemed that the light and with it the day was unwilling to let itself be conquered, unwilling to make way for dusk as it inevitably had to.  
  
It was truly amazing how much different it was to the sunsets at home, Legolas thought tiredly. In Mirkwood, night was sometimes falling so quickly that you didn't even have time to get off your horse and search for a place to spend the night once you noticed the first signs of approaching darkness. Here, however, especially when you were blessed with elven eyesight, you could watch everything as if in slow motion: The lengthening of the shadows that were beginning to blend together into one formless mass, the stars that were slowly beginning to appear as the last rays of the sun faded behind the horizon, and finally the moon that rose silently and cast its silver light over the lands.  
  
It was something he had never really thought about, he realised, but now he had precious little to do but watch his surroundings. It was a situation about which he was indeed not happy, and yet a situation he was unable to change as he had found out in the past three days – uncomfortably and sometimes painfully.  
  
The elven prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a part of him still remaining alert and ready to act should a chance to escape present itself – not that he expected it to. It never did. Nothing of importance had changed during the past few days: He was still captive of these people for whom his feelings had undergone a considerable change however. He didn't simply dislike them anymore; he was beginning to loathe them.   
  
No, that wasn't entirely true, he corrected himself after a moment, he _did _still dislike them, some more than others, the antipathy he felt for them was merely being dwarfed by the loathing that bubbled inside his chest like an ill-humoured dragon. At first, he had merely loathed Teonvan and his lieutenants who were, as he had quickly found out, just as despicable as their superior, but he was beginning to loathe the whole lot of them, from Reran to the lowest and most unimportant member of the troupe.  
  
He loathed them for the way they bragged about having managed to shoot his friends, he loathed them for boasting that they had outwitted the Elvenking and his warriors, he loathed the way they looked at him as if he were a special prize they had caught, a rare animal of some sort, and, most of all, he loathed them for not giving him any chance to demonstrate to them just how stupid they were to have done all the aforementioned things.  
  
Legolas opened his eyes again and let them wander over the small camp that had been pitched about half an hour ago, idly wondering how long it would take Teonvan to finish his discussion with Reran this evening. The elf growled inwardly and had to consciously stop himself from clenching his bound hands into tight fists. Teonvan had quickly turned out to be the most loathsome, twisted and simply stupidest human Legolas had ever had the misfortune to meet.   
  
In fact, he amended, he was rather sure that he was the most loathsome, twisted and simply stupidest _being _he had ever had the misfortune to meet, and that meant quite a lot in the elven prince's opinion. He had, after all, met several dwarves and a multitude of orcs in his life, and until now he had thought that title to be reserved for one of them, most probably for Glóin, one of King Dáin's advisors he had met during their journey to Dale and Erebor. But no, Teonvan topped all of them, and was definitely worthy of that particular title.  
  
The elf shifted slightly to the side, leaning back a little bit further against the rock at his back, and noticed to his dissatisfaction that his guards' eyes followed his every movement. Wonderful, he thought darkly, even after three days the men's attention hadn't waned a bit. They were still eyeing him as sharply and unerringly as hawks, and had until now shown no inclination to change that behaviour in the slightest.   
  
These people were indeed professionals, as proven by the fact that they had really managed to get out of Mirkwood, a fact about which Legolas was still slightly shaken when he was perfectly honest. In truth, he hadn't expected them to get further than to the forest's edge, but that belief had begun to wane until it had disintegrated completely when he had realised that Reran made his men leave false trails, a painstaking and tedious work which the others had done without even complaining once. Reran did indeed know what he was doing, and his men seemed to trust his decisions inexplicably, something that proved that he was truly an excellent commander, something for which Legolas would have given him some credit under any other circumstances.  
  
Now, however, he was not in the mood to give Reran credit for anything, least of all for his leadership, and still, the fact that they _had _managed to escape the woods of his home alive could not be denied. One and a half days ago they had crossed from the outer edges of Mirkwood into the open land south of Lake-town and had begun to follow the Celduin downstream, and by now Legolas knew that his father's warriors wouldn't be able to catch up with them in the near future, and a small voice inside his head had begun to whisper that they wouldn't catch up with them at all.   
  
These humans, Legolas thought darkly, were a puzzling mix of incredibly lucky and competent. This little stunt of theirs would never have been successful had it not been snowing so heavily – it still was, actually. Snow was still falling, though not as heavily as during the past days and less and less the further away the more distance from Mirkwood they gained. It was in fact as if a huge, grey cloud had hung over Mirkwood to aid the men's escape, once again proving something Legolas had been suspecting for a long time, to be precise ever since he had met the twins and then Aragorn: The Valar hated him.  
  
He didn't really know what he had done to deserve such sentiments, but it was the only possible explanation for all this, and he had had more than enough time to think about it in the past few days. If not for the snow, the patrols would have caught up with them a long time ago, and he would be at home instead of sitting here bound in the cold snow surrounded by men who had, on the average, the intelligence and manners of ill-bred goblins.   
  
His thoughts were dangerously close to sliding off into contemplations of what-could-have-been-if-only, and so fixed them onto something much more rewarding: Imagining how he would kill Teonvan once he managed to get away from here, a possibility that was becoming more and more unlikely the more time passed if he was perfectly honest with himself. Still, it was indefinitely more entertaining, because Teonvan had managed something only few people had ever achieved: He had made Legolas hate him with all his heart.  
  
Except for orcs, spiders and other servants of the Dark One, the elven prince could remember rather few people he had truly hated, had hated with a passion and so much that he would have taken any and every chance to kill them. There had been a few, yes, and most of them had been men he had met in the past two years and who were dead now, but Teonvan was a special case. Truthfully, Legolas was at a loss to explain why he did hate the man, for he had met other men he had loathed at first glance, men who had hurt him or his friends much worse than Teonvan had until now.  
  
Still, every time Teonvan came near him a shudder raced across his back, a shudder Legolas was helpless to suppress or explain. The worst day until now had been the second day, the day before yesterday, when Teonvan had been in charge of his guards. The men had obviously been too afraid of Teonvan to protest or say anything when the commander had made sure that the elven prisoner suffered some … "accidents" during the day, for example stumbling and falling down continuously when they had stopped for a short rest.   
  
It hadn't been much more than a nuisance, really, for the elven prince had sustained no wounds other than cuts and bruises and the worst that had been hurt had definitely been his pride, for wood-elves _never _stumbled and fell down, but by the end of the day Legolas had been more than tired of it. Worse than the physical discomfort of being thrown to the ground all the time and the humiliation that came from being picked off the same by his guards had been the look on the man's face every time he had looked down on his captive who had been lying in the snow.  
  
Legolas shuddered inwardly, for the moment very glad that the darkness hid his features. He had seen that look before, on other beings' faces, but never quite in this intensity. It had been like a fire, a dark, obsessed fire that flickered in Teonvan's eyes, a fire that had burned more brightly every time quickly hidden pain had flickered over his captive's face. The small spark of fear once again grew inside the prince's chest, and he ruthlessly crushed it. He couldn't allow himself to grow afraid of these people now, or they would have already won.  
  
Still, he had never seen such an absolute joy on anyone's face when inflicting pain on another, never, not once in his more than 2500 years. No, he amended thoughtfully, that wasn't entirely true, he had never seen it directed so _exclusively _at him, for a lack of better word. He was no stranger to cruelty, and had seen more than once what orcs, men and even elves could do to others, be they of their kind or not.   
  
There had been several times in the past when he had been in situations similar to this one, like the one time about eight hundred years ago when Celylith and he had been captured by orcs and had had to endure their "hospitality" for nearly two days until Glónduil and the rest of their patrol had been able to find and free them, or, much more recently, the time Aragorn and he had spent in the captivity of Adruran's men, the men who they had ran into during their visit to Lake-town and Dale.  
  
There was a difference though, and that was that those times his captors hadn't been interested in him as a person but rather in him as a member of his race, as an elf. For the orcs all that mattered had been that he was an elf, and the same went for the men who they had encountered on the slopes on the Lonely Mountain. They had been trying to hurt him, yes, but they had only tried to hurt him because he was one of the _Eldar_; if he would have been a man or of any other race, he would have lost quite a lot of his fascination and appeal, he was sure about it.  
  
Teonvan, however, was different. It probably added to his enjoyment that he was one of the Firstborn, but Legolas had the feeling that it wasn't really important to him, for whatever reasons. All that seemed to matter to the man was to see him hurt and in pain, him and not an elf, and that was a situation he was rather unprepared to deal with, since he could simply not find a reason for it. Yes, he had bested him in a fight and they had traded some insults, but in the elven prince's experience that was hardly enough to want to see the other tormented to death, a wish that was clear to see in Teonvan's eyes. Then again, a small voice in his head added thoughtfully, it might very well be that Teonvan was mad. Mad people couldn't exactly be expected to behave reasonable, could they?  
  
Soon he was contemplating just how mad Teonvan was – he was still not sure whether he was completely insane or not – and yet he found himself distracted continuously by a low, almost inaudible voice in his head that whispered that he was missing something important, something that had to do with a thing he had thought about just now. Legolas frowned inwardly. Had it been connected to the orcs Celylith and he had encountered all these years ago or to the men they had run into at Erebor? But how could either be relevant to his current situation?  
  
He thought about it for some time longer, but his thoughts kept returning to Teonvan and that glint in his eyes, and soon he forced himself to abandon that train of thought altogether. If there was anything he needed to remember, it wouldn't help trying to force the issue now, that was something he had learned long ago. He would remember, eventually, and the only thing he would accomplish now was to push the memory that wanted to surface even further to the back of his mind. Besides, Teonvan was less of a problem now, and he refused to think about him any longer than he absolutely had to.  
  
After that first day – when Legolas had been rather close to losing his temper and doing something rash and ill-advised to Teonvan he would undoubtedly have been made to regret later – Reran had taken his second-in-command aside, looking none too pleased indeed. Overheard only by Legolas the captain had told Teonvan in no unclear terms what would happen to him if he didn't stop harassing their prisoner, and during the past two days Cendan and his men had unobtrusively but firmly made sure that the dark haired commander didn't come too close to him.  
  
All in all, it was a situation the fair haired elf could very well live with, even though Teonvan had obviously been not happy about the development, which of course made it even more enjoyable to Legolas, and, apparently, the entire camp. Tempers had been running high in the past two days, and Reran and Teonvan were disappearing more often to discuss things of late – the human captain was beginning to lose his patience with the younger man, and more threats and barely hidden insults were uttered during these meetings. Had Legolas not been so involved in all this, he would have been greatly amused by the men's behaviour and would have thought it highly entertaining to watch how they latched onto each other's throat, but the way things were at the moment, he did not think it overly funny at all.  
  
Movement to his right drew the elven prince out of his thoughts, and he raised a mocking, amused eyebrow when Teonvan appeared at the other side of the camp, obviously anything but happy. A deep frown creased the man's shallow face, and when Legolas saw the angry, frustrated gleam in the other's eyes, he couldn't quite hide the small grin that was forming at the corners of his lips. He didn't know what it was that had put him into such a bad mood, but anything that made Teonvan unhappy made him _very _happy in return.  
  
Teonvan did of course notice the grin the captive elf wore – it would indeed have been very hard to miss, even for a half-blind troll – and his face promptly turned an interesting, rare, dark red colour. For a moment, it appeared that he wanted to come over to them, but he thought apparently better of it, his eyes straying quickly to the quiet, dark figure of Cendan who had just come over to Legolas' guards to give them last instructions for the night.  
  
There was no outward sign that the young lieutenant had even noticed the other's presence, but his shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly and a second later he slowly raised his head to lock eyes with his superior. The younger man's face was as emotionless as always, but there was a faint, threatening air about him that even an unobservant person like Teonvan had to notice.  
  
For a moment, the two men merely stared at each other before Reran's second-in-command averted his eyes with an impatient shake of his head and turned, heading over to one of the smaller campfires to the left and shooting both Cendan and his prisoner a last dark look before he disappeared behind a tent that was still in the process of being pitched by three men.  
  
Legolas blinked slowly, feeling, not for the first time, rather thankful that Reran had decided to put Cendan in charge of his guards at all times. It wasn't that he liked Reran's dark haired lieutenant; he did not, in fact. Besides, he was an enigma to the elf, and as much as he tried to, Legolas didn't understand him any better now than when he had first set eyes on him. Still, he preferred his "company" to that of Teonvan, and he didn't doubt that, if it hadn't been for the man's quiet, menacing presence, he would have had many more encounters with Teonvan, no matter what Reran's orders were.   
  
To the right, Reran had appeared now, looking just as displeased as Teonvan had only a few seconds earlier, and after a short, trivial conversation with Cendan and his men he stepped closer, looking at Legolas with dark, unreadable eyes. Legolas simply looked back at him from where he sat in the snow bound to a large rock, noting how the lieutenant and his guards withdrew slightly to give their captain the chance to speak with him in private.  
  
Reran simply continued looking at him, and after waiting for a minute or two, the elf arched an elegant eyebrow, faint amusement mixed with annoyance sparkling in his silver-blue eyes.  
"Is there anything you wanted, Master Human?"  
  
The human captain's expression darkened, and Legolas realised, a little too late, that he should probably not antagonise the only person in this camp who was saving him from serious bodily harm.  
  
"I can almost understand him," Reran growled, taking a step closer and crouching down to survey his captive's scratched and bruised face more closely.   
  
Reran grabbed the unresisting elf's chin and turned his head from side to side, studying his face. The bruises Teonvan had put there after the fight had already healed, but new ones had appeared along with cuts and some welts – he would have to talk with Teonvan about that, he decided. Some of them the elf might have received from the other men and perhaps even from Cendan and his guards (and he might even have deserved them), but he seriously doubted they were beating the prisoner so systematically. The elf tried to wrench his face out of his grasp, and Reran released his chin, still not taking his eyes off the captive's face who was now wearing a definitely contemptuous expression.  
  
"I would be careful with my words if I were you, Master Elf," he said in a deceivingly friendly tone of voice. "At the moment I am unwilling to grant Teonvan's requests, but given the proper encouragement I might be willing to reconsider my position."  
  
The blonde elf raised both eyebrows now and cocked his head slightly to the side, his hair that had come loose of its small braids falling forward a little.   
"Is that so?"  
  
"Aye," Reran nodded seriously as if talking to a good friend, apparently not perturbed by the elf's answer. "That is so." The man's brown eyes narrowed for a moment, and after a short, heavy silence he asked, "What is your name, elf?"  
  
"My name?" Legolas repeated blankly. These people had captured him three days ago and had never been interested in his name at all, and now they wanted to know what he was called? "What does it mean to you?"  
  
"Nothing," Reran shook his head, "I simply like to know whom I am dealing with. Besides, I grow tired of calling you 'elf', as do you, I assume. Unless you provide me with a more fitting alternative though, I don't think I will have any other choice but to continue doing so."  
  
The elf looked evenly at the man, his thoughts racing. Was this some kind of trick? Were they suspecting who he was after all? For a moment, Legolas didn't answer, but he decided quickly that not answering was definitely not an attractive possibility as he watched the impatience make a reappearance on the human captain's face. It appeared that Reran was already in a bad mood, and, to be perfectly honest, he didn't really want to find out what the man would do if his mood worsened further.  
  
"I asked you a question, _elf_. You aren't hiding something from us, are you?" the man asked when Legolas failed to answer, a curious light appearing in his eyes. "Because if that were so, I would have to find out what it is. We have still more than eight days' journey ahead of us; more than enough time for some serious conversations. I don't think you would enjoy that experience one bit."   
  
Annoyance and the will to hurt him if he gave him even the slightest reason was visible in the man's eyes, and Legolas decided that he did not want that to happen if it was somehow avoidable.   
  
Prompted by another dark look full of barely controlled annoyance, Legolas opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind.  
"Lasseg. My name is Lasseg. Now that we are properly introduced: What does your lord want with me? Where are you taking me?"  
  
Legolas clamped his mouth shut, shocked by his own words. Had he really told the man what he thought he had told him? Had he really told him his name was Lasseg? O Elbereth, was he insane? What had he been _thinking_?  
  
Reran inclined his head mockingly, something that looked like amusement flickering over his face before it disappeared quicker than even an elven eye could follow.  
"Let me give you a piece of advice then, Lasseg: Do not provoke Teonvan. He is not a self-controlled man, and if you stress your luck with him I will not always be there to protect you – assuming that I would want to in the first place. I do not look kindly onto entertainment of the sort he craves, but if you do not learn to hold your tongue I might make an exception." The man gave him a last, mocking nod and rose to his feet again. "A pleasant night to you, Lasseg."  
  
The man was already turning around when Legolas' voice interrupted him, carrying a steely edge that had stopped several of his father's councilmen in mid-tirade more than once in the past.  
"You did not answer my questions, human. Who is your lord? Why did you attack me and my men? Where is your home? In Rhûn? Is that where we are going? Further to the east?"  
  
Reran slowly turned around, stony-faced at the mention of his liege as he looked down on his captive who he knew wouldn't live long once they reached their home.  
"You are right. I did not."  
  
Without another word the man turned back around and had soon disappeared between the rest of the men that were teeming in the camp, busy with kindling fires and preparing meals. Legolas looked after him for quite a long time, wondering about the look that had been visible in the human's eyes for a second before he had turned around and disappeared. He hadn't really expected the man to answer him – in fact, he would have been greatly surprised if he had – but that look in his eyes…  
  
The elf continued staring into nothing, only faintly noticing that the four men who had been assigned to guard him tonight were drawing closer to him again, forming a tight circle around him like every night. If he didn't know better, he would say that there had been loathing and distaste among the fear that had been visible when Legolas had mentioned the men's lord; something that didn't put his mind at ease at all. These feelings hadn't been aimed at him, so they could only mean that, whatever was waiting for him at the end of this journey, it was highly unpleasant indeed, and worse enough to disgust even a battle-hardened man as Reran.  
  
Slowly, Legolas' eyes travelled over his guards, scrutinising every single one of them for several minutes, long enough to make several of them shift under his relentless elven stare. This had gone on far too long now; he wouldn't allow them to bring him in front of their honourless lord like a caught animal! He wouldn't allow them to succeed in their endeavour, whatever it may be exactly, and he would most certainly not allow them to get away with what they had done to his friends!  
  
Very well, he finally thought, if he couldn't escape at night, he would have to think of something else. He didn't necessarily have to escape; perhaps it was even enough to delay their journey, just enough so that eventual pursuers would be able to catch up with them; perhaps his father's guards or Aragorn were already on their trail…  
  
Perhaps, he grimaced inwardly, and perhaps not. Then again, he would personally burn his bow if Aragorn was still at the palace; if he knew that reckless, thick-headed ranger at all he would already be out in Mirkwood doing Valar-know-what…  
  
These contemplations brought him back to what had shocked him earlier, and even now it was enough to colour his cheeks (which were luckily hidden in the darkness) a dark crimson. A Elbereth, he must have suffered a sudden bout of madness! Perhaps that one blow to the head he had received from one of the guards earlier today had been a little harder than he had first thought? Had there been something in what little food he had been given? Were the men poisoning him?  
  
Legolas closed his eyes, inwardly hearing Aragorn's mocking laughter that was soon joined by Celylith's, the twins' and every other person's he knew; he flatly refused to think about what his father would say to this. What in the name of the One had he been thinking? Why hadn't he thought of another name? There were hundreds of elven names to choose from, and all he had been able to come up with was _Lasseg_?  
  
The fair haired elf beat his head ever so softly against the rock at his back. Lasseg was a form of the elven word "lass", meaning leaf; a part of his own name, by the way. The bad part about it, though, was that it was the _diminutive_ form of the word; Lasseg meant, literally, "Little Leaf".  
  
So, essentially, Legolas concluded despairingly, the thought filling him with far more dread and fear than his current situation, he had just told Reran that his name was Leafie.  
  
Aragorn and Celylith would never let him forget this when they found him, never.  
  
  
  
  
Many miles to the west, Celylith sat in front of a small fire and brooded.  
  
That was, of course, not the word he would have chosen to describe his current occupation, since young elf lords did not brood. Young elf lords never brooded, that was at least what his father had told him more times than he could count – he had, in fact, lost count after his first two hundred years of existence.   
  
No, young elf lords did not brood; they thought about things, they contemplated things, in a most dignified manner of course. And right now, he was _contemplating _why he was feeling as if he shouldn't be here.   
  
That was, of course, a most ridiculous feeling, for he was a warrior of Mirkwood and son of one of the king's most important advisors. If he wasn't entitled to be here, then who was? Then again, he corrected himself, it wasn't as much that he felt that he shouldn't be here; he felt more as if he should be somewhere else, preferably at home, preferably anywhere where Legolas and Aragorn were.   
  
He had the distinct feeling that they were in trouble; it wasn't even a feeling anymore, it was certainty. He _knew _they were in trouble, and he also knew that he was at the most useless place imaginable at the moment, namely still a day's journey to the west of the palace. Another thing Celylith knew was that he had been travelling as fast as he had been able, and he had even taken his leave from Beorn earlier than had been planned, and, if he was honest with himself, earlier than had been courteous.   
  
Still, that knowledge did nothing to lessen the guilt that tore at his heart, guilt that told him very clearly that he should never have trusted Legolas to look after himself and the ranger and that he shouldn't have allowed himself to be sent on this little errand. He should have known that his prince was unable to spend more than two days in a row without getting himself and/or others into deadly peril, and he should have remained at his side no matter what. Perhaps he would have been able to help him, to somehow avert some of the danger, perhaps…  
  
Perhaps, he snorted softly, perhaps indeed. More likely was however that he would have been dragged down with Legolas into whatever dark pit of danger and doom the prince was throwing himself (not falling, mind you) this time, and would have been more of a burden than an asset – just like the last time. The last time his lord had truly, urgently needed his assistance he had been unconscious, unable to help anyone, not even himself – of precious little help had he been then, indeed. It was something he still hadn't forgiven himself; if he hadn't got himself wounded he would have been able to protect Legolas and that stubborn ranger…  
  
Celylith quickly shook his head; this was definitely bordering on brooding now. He wouldn't spend the night with remembering past darkness and _contemplating _what would have been if things had been different. It would serve to help neither him nor anyone else, and it would only depress him further than he already was. He had even kindled a small fire tonight, something that usually only the stupidest and most masochistic people did in the woods of his home – all in an attempt to drive off the dark shadows of memories and fears that had been creeping up on him for several days now.  
  
Well, as be that as it may, he had left the house of the skin-changer yesterday morning, courtesy or not, after he had been battling an uneasy, dark feeling for nearly a day. He truly didn't know why he was having these feelings, they had suddenly been there, as if someone or something had thrown a switch inside his head and turned them on. He had been planning to stay with Beorn and his family longer, to exchange the latest news and talk about the orc movement close to the Great River, but he hadn't been able to bear these forebodings for long.  
  
Beorn had apparently not been hurt or aggrieved; the only person who had very much lamented his early departure had been Beorn's son Grimbeorn, who was still an adolescent, at least Celylith thought so. He found it hard to determine a human's age or maturity, and it was even harder with skin-changers, who were quite a bit different than your usual _edain_, but men nonetheless.   
So, grown-up or not, Grimbeorn had been rather disappointed to see him go so soon, and had even accompanied him for some hours when Celylith had left his father's house yesterday morning. They must have presented a queer picture indeed, the silver haired elf mused, an elf on a rather nervous horse and a young, but already huge black bear that been jumping around playfully, trying to catch the snowflakes that still floated gently to the ground.  
  
No, Celylith decided with a small smile, Beorn's son was definitely not grown-up. He had never seen Beorn behave like this, which didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed the youth's company. Celylith still thought it strange to talk to someone who was a young man in the one moment and a huge bear in the next, but Grimbeorn was quick-witted and merry, and the elf had enjoyed his company greatly.  
  
They had parted yesterday afternoon, still several hours from the beginning of the Forest Gate that marked the beginning of the Elf-path that led to King Thranduil's halls. After much arguing about whether the younger being would be allowed to accompany him further – he would not – Grimbeorn had relented and had trotted off and disappeared in the swirling snow masses, once again in the form of a great bear.  
  
Celylith leaned back a little, his thoughts far away from the small clearing he was camping in at the moment. He thought about adding some more fuel to the fire, but decided against it quickly, preferring to let it slowly go out. The fire didn't seem to help at all; the dark feelings of fear, dread and doom were growing instead of diminishing, and therefore he could just as well do without a fire that posed a serious safety risk, after all. That it was not wise to light fires in Mirkwood at night was something a wood-elf learned very early – those who didn't usually got eaten by spiders, wargs or other foul things.  
  
That thought served to bring a small smile to Celylith's lips. He wouldn't exactly mind if spiders made an appearance; he had always been greatly fascinated by the huge, multi-legged beasts, and contrary to the rest of Mirkwood's population he only killed them if he didn't have any other choice. He would love to see his ex-pet Wilwarin again, the little spider he had saved last year; _saved_, he emphasised mentally, not kidnapped.   
  
He had learned a great many things about the arachnid's race in the short time he had been able to look after her, but when she had continued growing at an alarming rate Legolas had forced him to give her up, something he still hadn't forgiven the fair haired elf. In the process of bringing her deeper into the woods and setting her free Legolas, the twins, Aragorn and he had nearly been eaten by Wilwarin's colony – something that the others still hadn't forgiven him, a rather petty reaction now that he thought about it.  
  
That was what was causing the problems between their two races, he nodded to himself: The spiders' habit of trying to eat every elf they laid eyes on. If they could somehow get past the whole biting-and-weaving-into-a-cocoon-for-later-consumption-part, he was sure they would be able to find a way to communicate, and, eventually, to co-exist.  
  
Celylith shook his head resignedly. It would never come to that, he knew that deep in his heart, and unless the fascinating, amazingly beautiful arachnids underwent a profound change of heart, the time would never come when the call _"Yngyl!"_ did not cause a wood-elf to reach for his weapons.   
  
A shame, he thought darkly, it would be so interesting to see what they could learn from each other…  
  
His considerations were interrupted when the forest suddenly grew silent – well, not exactly silent, but silent to a Silvan elf's ears. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed any different, but to Celylith who had spent nearly all his life under these trees it was clear that he wasn't alone.  
  
For a moment, he remained motionless, trying to gauge from the slightly muted sounds of the forest how far away the intruders were – and there were more than one, or the forest wouldn't have fallen as silent as it had. Not far, he realised quickly and soundlessly stood to his feet, reaching for the bow he had carefully deposited next to him. His gaze briefly swept over the large bag containing medicines and bandages that Legolas had forced on him; it appeared as if he would have need of it after all…  
  
That served to anger him more than the actual fact that there were intruders, most likely enemies, who were converging on his position. Legolas would be unbearable for the next few days when he heard that he had needed all the things he had put in that stupid bag, Celylith grumbled inwardly as he quickly climbed a tree and found a suitable spot from which he could watch the camp unnoticed. The elf's eyes darkened. He really hoped for whoever was coming closer that they weren't looking for trouble or injured him – he would get really, really upset if he returned to the palace sporting several bandages. Really, really, _really_ upset.  
  
A faint movement to the right of where he had sat earlier caught his attention, a movement that was so well-concealed and stealthy that he would almost have missed it. There was not much that escaped a wood-elf's eyes in a forest, however, and so Celylith's sharp eyes had no trouble following the shadow that became visible now that he knew what he was looking for.  
  
Said shadow stopped and seemed to survey his camp for a time, appearing grey and elusive against the darkened tree trunks. Finally, when Celylith was almost sure that his mysterious visitor would withdraw, the shadow began to move again, skilfully winding around the trees until it entered the small circle of light that surrounded the silver haired elf's campfire.   
  
Celylith's eyes narrowed as the sparse light revealed a tall figure wearing a grey cloak, the hood concealing the features completely. The figure raised its head a little and began to scan the trees around it, obviously knowing where the fire's owner would have taken refuge after noticing that someone was drawing closer.  
  
That was enough for the silver haired elf, and he silently moved through the trees until he reached the one exactly behind the stranger, already suspecting whose face was hidden under that grey cloak. Careful not to make even the smallest sound, Celylith dropped onto the snow-covered ground and, grinning wickedly, took two small steps closer to the shadowy figure.  
  
The other's head shot up while he was still taking the last step, but before the intruder had time to turn around, Celylith had unsheathed his long knife and closed the remaining distance between them in a flash. Half a second later one of his arms was wrapped around the stranger's chest from behind while his other hand pressed the razor-sharp blade of his knife against the other's throat.  
  
"You have entered the Elvenking's realm without permission," he whispered softly in Westron, using his hardest, most dangerous voice. "Such behaviour carries the penalty of death, stranger."  
  
The cloaked figure growled almost inaudibly, one hand slowly straying to its weaponbelt, but the movement died when the silver haired elf increased the pressure on his knife a little.  
  
"Do it and I'll cut your throat," he informed his prisoner darkly, inwardly grinning like a maniac. That growl had dispelled the last doubts from his mind as to whom he was currently threatening with a slit throat. "You have five seconds to state your business in King Thranduil's woods." The other still made no move to answer, and so he added, now grinning broadly, "Four. Three. Tw…"  
  
"I do not answer to fools whose faces I have yet to see," the stranger informed him coldly, the anger that radiated off his lithe form almost tangible. "We have permission to travel here, guardian, and trust me when I tell you that you would greatly regret killing me. Unhand me, _now_, and I may forget this whole incident. Is this Mirkwood's way of greeting her guests?"  
  
Celylith would have loved to keep this little charade up for much longer, but he knew that he would burst like one of Mithrandir's fireworks if he had to suppress his laughter any longer.  
"No, Lord Elladan, it is not. This is a special performance just for you and your brother who is undoubtedly hiding somewhere in the trees behind us, only waiting to kill the villain who dares threaten a son of Elrond."  
  
The Noldorin elf's body stiffened in surprise, and Celylith leaned a little closer so he could watch the other's grey eyes narrow in annoyance and anger.  
  
"Celylith," the older twin said flatly, still staring straight ahead. "I should have known."  
  
"Yes," the silver haired elf agreed, all but doubling over with laughter. "You should have, _mellon nín_."  
  
Elladan carefully turned his head to the side and gave the other elf a bright smile, a smile that looked about as genuine as gentleness would have on an orc's face.  
"Kindly remove that knife from my throat, or I will do it for you."  
  
"Oh, of course, my lord," Celylith chuckled and withdrew his dagger which was re-sheathed so quickly that even elven eyes could hardly follow. Drawing himself up to his full height and inclining his head gracefully, he added, "Welcome to Mirkwood, Lord Elladan."  
  
"A welcome you usually show only orcs, I hope," a new voice announced, and the two elves turned around to lay eyes on Elladan's twin who was just dropping out of a tree. "If you treat every traveller like this, one needs no longer wonder why you don't get many visitors."  
  
"I do not see your point, my friend," Celylith grinned as he grasped Elrohir's forearm in greeting. "Is there a noteworthy difference between you and orcs? Apart from the height, I mean."  
  
"Give a wood-elf a knife and a tree and he will begin to suffer delusions of grandeur," Elladan shook his head in disgust before turning enraged eyes on his younger brother. "What kept you? You could have made your presence known at some point! He could have killed me!!"  
  
"Ah, but then I would have missed that look of surprise on your face, dear brother," Elrohir grinned. "And a rare look it was! Besides, you know that this young one here wouldn't have killed you – I think."  
  
For a moment, all three of them glared at each other before they began to grin, merriment creeping into grey and dark blue eyes.  
  
"It is good to see you again, _mellon nín_!" Elrohir declared finally and clapped the silver haired elf's on the back. "Where is that princeling you insist on escorting all the time? Is Estel with you as well?"  
  
Celylith shook his head and invited the twins to step closer to the slowly dying fire, not missing the disappointment that flickered over both elves' faces at that small movement.  
"No, I am alone. I am returning from an errand for the king; a visit to Beorn. Your brother and the prince are back at the palace, or so I hope."  
  
"So you hope?" Elladan raised a dark eyebrow and fixed half-amused, half-worried eyes on the other elf. "What has happened now? Why did they agree to stay behind?"  
  
Celylith looked from one twin to the other with wide eyes. This conversation was not at all going into the desired direction.  
"Nothing," he said quickly, his eyes already travelling over the trees in an attempt to identify the most suitable escape route. The twins wouldn't be happy to hear that the only reason why Aragorn and Legolas had – hopefully, he repeated inwardly – remained at the palace was that they had crashed a pair of sledges and impaled themselves on innocent trees. "Nothing happened. They are fine."  
  
The twins traded a look, their dark hair in stark contrast to the muted whiteness of their snow-covered surroundings.  
"And 'fine' would be whose definition of their state of health? Yours? Theirs? Hithrawyn's?" Elladan inquired, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
Celylith felt his lips twist into a strained smile, contemplating if he would be able to make it into a tree before one of them grabbed him. Probably not, he decided after a second. Judging by the gleam in the twins' nearly identical eyes, they were prepared for exactly such an action.  
  
"Everyone's definition, my friends," he replied vaguely, still smiling brightly at the two clearly suspicious Noldor. "They heal quickly enough, after all."  
  
In the moment the words were leaving his mouth, Celylith realised what he was saying. He hurriedly closed his mouth and lifted his chin, decidedly ignoring the twins' eyebrows that rose simultaneously to dizzying heights. He wouldn't say another word, and there was no way they were going to make him.  
  
Elrohir's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to the silver haired elf who promptly took a step backwards.   
"What do you mean, _mellon nín_?" he asked in a friendly tone of voice. "What wounds did they need to recover from? What trouble did Legolas and Estel get themselves into this time?"  
  
"What trouble have you _allowed _them to get themselves into?" Elladan corrected, eyes beginning to gleam threateningly.   
  
Panic flickered to life in the silver haired elf's heart, and Celylith raised both hands in a pacifying gesture, his resolve to remain silent forgotten in the face of the brothers' wrath.  
  
"I?" he asked unbelievingly. "I? They do not need anyone to get them into trouble, least of all me! Besides, I am not their nursemaid! That is an outrageous accusation you raise, sons of Elrond!"  
  
"Not nearly as outrageous as their complete lack of manners," a soft voice commented to their right, and all three of them whirled around, hands on the hilts of their swords and knives before they had even turned half-way.  
  
Instead of an orc or something similar as Celylith had firmly believed he would see – disaster followed any son of Elrond wherever he went, that was something he had learned the hard way – his eyes came to rest on a small group of elven warriors that stood at the edge of their small clearing, their horses just visible behind them. Most of them were dark haired like the Lord of Imladris and his children and wore amused expressions, but at the front stood a tall, golden haired elf Celylith knew only too well. And said elf, he added inwardly, did not look amused in the slightest.  
  
The silver haired elf gulped and quickly bowed his head. And here he had thought this evening couldn't get any worse! He should have remembered the twins' escort; a fine warrior of Mirkwood he was!  
  
"Lord Glorfindel," he said with reverence, meaning every bit of it. Lord Elrond's blonde advisor was a living legend, and to quite a few young elves he had been and still was a sort of childhood hero, something that just might have been in case for Celylith as well, for a few centuries maybe. Not more. "Forgive me, I did not know the Lords Elladan and Elrohir travelled in your company. I have greeted you poorly indeed."  
  
"You could not have known, guardian" the golden haired elf shook his head slightly. "We were looking for a place to make camp when we spied your fire through the trees; and besides, I would have completely understood had you cut their throats. To sneak up on a wood-elf's camp under the trees of his home is foolishness, as I have told them."  
  
Celylith would almost have blushed, something that only over 2500 years of practice prevented. Had that been a praise? From Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell? Elbereth, what a day this was turning out to be!  
  
"You are too kind, my lord," he gave the older elf another bow. "Yet it would have been an embarrassment to my king as well as my father, and I believe Lord Elrond would have been somewhat aggrieved as well."  
  
Glorfindel smiled widely, superiorly ignoring the dark looks both of the twins were shooting him while they helped to unload the elven party's horses.  
"Yes, I believe you might be correct, young one." Blue eyes narrowed for a moment as he scrutinised the silver haired wood-elf. "Your father is Lord Celythramir then?"  
  
"Aye, my lord, he is," Celylith nodded, knowing that his hair colour had given him away once again. There were not many silver haired elves in Mirkwood, and even less silver haired members of nobility. "I am Celylith, his son. The king, however, is stressed enough at the moment so there is no reason to add a diplomatic crisis to his troubles."  
  
"Very considerate of you," the elf lord said wryly, wondering for a moment if Elladan's eyes would catch fire in the next few moments. Yes, he nodded inwardly. They most certainly would if the twin continued giving him such fiery looks. "But we are here to relieve your liege of some of his problems, never fear."  
  
"Your arrival has been looked forward to by many with much anticipation," Celylith agreed with a small smile. "You and your men would do me an honour by sharing my fire this night. There is safety in numbers after all, even more so since the shadow on our woods is lengthening."  
  
Glorfindel didn't hesitate a moment to accept the younger elf's offer, and soon the horses had been unloaded and the fire rekindled, and soft conversation floated through the trees surrounding the small group of elves that had gathered round the dancing flames. The Noldor were recounting their small, rather relaxing encounter with some mountain goblins (relaxing for them, that was, not for the unfortunate goblins) they had had when they had crossed the Hithaeglir, the mighty mountain range of the Misty Mountains that divided the lands of Eriador and Wilderland.  
  
The rest of the evening was spent with the recount of tales, tales of the deeds of the kings and mighty warriors of old, and both the Imladris elves and their Silvan companion did their best to remember tales in which their respective peoples had figured most prominently.  
  
Shortly before midnight, one of the younger warriors ended a song about how Fingon had rescued his cousin Maedhros from the peak of Thangorodrim where Morgoth had held him captive, and after the applause had died down and the guards had been set everyone who had not been chosen to stand watch laid down to rest.  
  
Celylith who had volunteered for the first watch gave the small clearing and his sleeping companions a last look and retreated into the shadow of the tree he had climbed some hours ago, sitting down and resting his head against the dark bark. With a smile of faint amusement he noticed that not one of the others had chosen to rest in a tree as every wood-elf would have. The silver haired elf shook his head slightly. Noldor.  
  
He had agreed to wake one of the twins' companions later this night but had politely requested the right to take first watch – it was something he owed his lord's guests as a warrior of Mirkwood. It was not only an act of courtesy though; he knew from experience that the small hours of the night were the most dangerous, and since none of the other elves was familiar with these parts, it would be safest if he kept watch for now.  
  
Besides, he added darkly, he did not intend to go to sleep anywhere where the twins could reach him. He had got to know them rather well during the past two or three years and especially last autumn when they and Lord Elrond had stayed in Mirkwood while Aragorn had been recuperating, and if he knew them at all, they wouldn't have forgiven him the little trick he had played on them.   
  
While he was still contemplating how it came that the two of them were so vengeful, a small sound to his right caught his attention. He quickly scanned the camp: Just as he had thought, the twins were missing.  
  
Celylith rolled his eyes. They were just as bad as Legolas and Aragorn, or Aragorn and Legolas were just as bad as they. Or both the twins and Aragorn and Legolas had learned from each other.  
"Come out now or I will put a pair of arrows through your heads," he said, turning to his right. "I am not in the mood for such games."  
  
"Neither were we," a soft voice behind him murmured, and before the thought that the two of them must have split up had fully formed in his mind, he felt how the blade of a knife was pressed against his neck. "We weren't, were we, my brother?"  
  
"Most definitely not," Elrohir nodded, stepping out from behind the tree at Celylith's back.   
  
The silver haired elf rolled his eyes, inwardly deciding that there was probably nothing wrong with Legolas after all. The bad feeling he had been having had probably been about these two demons' impending arrival. He gave a small sigh. It hadn't been bad enough.  
  
"Alright," he nodded, gazing grimly at the younger twin's widely grinning face. "You have made your point." He turned slightly so he could give Elladan a dark, threatening look. Elrond's oldest son seemed to be enjoying himself far too much, he decided. "Kindly remove that knife from my throat, or _I _will do it for you."  
  
Elladan grinned as the other repeated the words he himself had spoken only a few hours ago.  
"Of course, my Lord Celylith," he answered with a magnanimous smile and he quickly withdrew the dagger. "I could never refuse a request as polite or eloquent as this one."  
  
"Eloquent. Right," Celylith snorted and rubbed his neck. "Whatever you say, my lord."  
  
The older twin traded an aggrieved look with his brother.  
"You have this horrible, insulting way of humouring people, did you know that? I honestly do not know how Legolas puts up with you."  
  
"About as well as Lord Glorfindel puts up with you, I imagine," the other elf shot back, a wicked glint appearing in his midnight-blue eyes. "I pity him. Truly, I do."  
  
"You would," Elrohir declared with an obviously heartfelt headshake of disgust as he plopped down onto the snow next to the wood-elf. "In fact, I think that it's us who are in need of your pity, _mellon nín_. Glorfindel has been nigh unbearable since we set out from Rivendell more than a week ago."  
  
"Who wouldn't be," Celylith mumbled under his breath, shuddering at the mere thought. Anyone who had escorted not only one but two sons of Elrond over the Misty Mountains in this weather and at this time of year and had ensured their safety could be sure of his utmost respect and awe.   
  
"As I said," Elrohir ignored the other's comment, glaring darkly at him, "Glorfindel has been behaving like a big, blonde mother hen these past days. I do believe _ada _threatened him with something rather unpleasant should something happen to either of us."  
  
"Aye," his brother nodded thoughtfully, quickly checking if said warrior was indeed asleep. "In truth, I do believe that the words 'pain', 'doom' and 'prolonged vacation to Barad-dûr' were mentioned." Elladan fell silent for a moment and frowned slightly. "Or was it Minas Morgul?"  
  
"It hardly matters, _gwanur nín_," Elrohir interrupted his brother sternly before redirecting his attention to Celylith who was looking at them with somewhat wide eyes, clearly trying to determine if Elladan was being serious or not. "Let's not forget why we came here."  
  
"Oh?" Celylith lifted a dark silver eyebrow in surprise. "You had another reason than to torment me?"  
  
"Of course," Elladan nodded, and on an unspoken signal both of them edged closed to the wood-elf whose eyes widened only further. "You never answered our question."  
  
"Question?" the younger elf repeated faintly in a desperate attempt to stall. "What question?"  
  
Elrohir smiled benignly at him, something that served to unsettle Celylith even more.  
"Yes, Celylith, our question. You were in the process of explaining to us what trouble our reckless brother had got himself into this time."  
  
"Into what trouble you have _allowed _him to get himself into this time," Elladan corrected once again. He too smiled friendly at the silver haired elf on whose face a definitely despairing expression was beginning to spread. "And after that, my friend…"  
  
"…you will tell us exactly what happened during your little trip to Esgaroth and Dale. In detail. The reports we received can simply not be true. Things like those do not happen, not even to Estel," Elrohir finished his brother's sentence.  
  
The silver haired elf consciously stopped himself from pressing his back against the bark of the tree in an attempt to put more distance between him and the twins; a most undignified behaviour indeed. This was going to be a long night…  
  
He forced himself to smile as well, a smile that looked more than a little bit strained. The twins were looking at him expectantly, and with a last, desperate look at the sleeping camp he opened his mouth to answer.  
"Would you like to bet on that, my friends?"  
  
The twins merely gave him their father's _look_, and that was the moment Celylith corrected himself with a tired mental sigh.  
  
This was going to be a very, _very_ long night.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
  
** _Eldar - 'People of the Stars', elves_  
_edain - humans, men_  
_yngyl (pl. of ungol) - spiders_  
_mellon nín - my friend  
ada - father (daddy)  
gwanur nín - my (twin) brother_  
  
  
  
  
**Before you say it: I know that, technically, Maedhros and Fingon weren't 'real' cousins since Fëanor and Fingolfin were only half-brothers, but it's close enough for me. And one other thing: Grimbeorn is canon, I did not make him up. I've always thought it sad that no-one mentioned poor Beorn's family, so I thought I should. *g* Okay, the next chapter should be here Tuesday or Wednesday, I promise I'll do my best to make it Tuesday, but no guarantees, sorry. I won't state again that reviews encourage me because I think I'm beginning to insult your intelligence, right? *g* **  
  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Aratfeniel** - You wanted to see Teonvan yell at him? Hmm, I always thought that Teonvan was more the hissing/speaking-in-a-friendly-voice-kind of guy. I think that it's more Reran who would yell once he really lost his temper - I will have to think about that. *g* Thanks for the idea!  
**Deana** - *waggles finger* Ah, you didn't pay attention. I didn't say there was no elf angst till chapter 14, I only said there wouldn't be any elf torture. That's a difference. *g* And, to be perfectly honest, the way it looks right now most of it will be in chapter 15. *runs off quickly* Sorry!   
**Sabercrazy** LOL, Hithrawyn - LOL, I'm sure that Aragorn would love to impale himself on yet another perfectly innocent tree! *g* Oh, wouldn't Hithrawyn just LOVE that? Well, yes, be assured that there won't be anything graphic. *shudders* No way in hell, actually. But I'm not yet sure if you will hate dear Teonvan the most ... *thinks for a moment* Yeah, probably. But he'll get competition soon... *evil grin* Glad to hear that you got your alter egos under control. They can be very annoying indeed. *g*'s glare of imminent DEATH? Well, I guess you could say that... *g* And yes, I think Aragorn is indeed three fries short of a Happy Meal right now - what else is new, huh? *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Me evil thing? *innocently* Did I miss something? What did I do now? *g* Okay, brilliant sounds much better... And you want whom to get hurt? Celythramir? Why, what has the poor elf ever done to you? *ducks Trin's giant snowball and prepares to drop a ton of snow onto her* See how you like it then!!!  
**Amelie** - Oh, don't worry. I know all about computer/video games. They can be worse than a really good book, even though my mother never understands me when I say that... *shrugs* Wrong generation, I guess. Oh, and I do indeed remember the little Orlando Bloom thing, and I'll admit that my words were ill chosen, or rather my examples (Johnny Depp and Ian McKellen). There are loads of young, comparably inexperinced actors/actresses I DO like and whose acting ability I respect. Take Colin Farrell for example, or even a young Al Pacino or a young Jodie Foster. Al Pacino was a few years older than Orlando Bloom is now in The Godfather, and he did have considerably less acting experience. *g* Then again, Al Pacino is a god which only few people can claim. *shrugs* It all boils down to the fact that I can't stand him, I guess. *g* And yes, there'll be little torture for anyone till chapter 14, sorry. *g***  
Mouse5 **- Aww, thanks! It's sweet that you send me an email instead of the review (I HATE FF.net!), thanks! *huggles* It's nice to hear that you liked Thranduil, who is really not feeling so great at the moment. You're also right about the twins, who will most definitely _not_ be happy once they find out what's going on. Oh, and before I forget it: I liked the little sentence at the end, the one about the end of the world and Australia. I have to admit, I've never seen it like that before... *g*  
**Gwyn** - Uhm, I didn't say that Celylith would get home this chapter, did I? Nope, I'm rather sure that I did not, but he's here, don't worry.. *g* And who said that Celylith even has a mind to lose? He's not really behaving like that, is he... *trails off evilly***  
Sherry** - Well, if you are indeed no longer readind WIP stories, then you won't read this either, but I'll take my chances. *g* And: Yes, I liked that article a lot! Who gets such crazy ideas? I have to admit that I am trying to find a way to put something like this into my next story. They could perhaps use great leaves or something? You have most definitely given me many interesting ideas... Well, thanks a lot for sending me the link, and I'm very glad you like the stories until now!  
**Red Tigress** - I couldn't agree more, my friend. I really liked Last Samurai, it's one of these annoying movies when you KNOW that they don't stand a chance and KNOW that they're all going to die and still hope they get out of it somehow... *g* It was very sad indeed. And about the elf torture: What would you say if I said that most of it is in chapter 15? Something along the lines of "Arrrrgggghhh", right? *innocent grin*  
**E** - Hmm, I see. The thing is that I think that he would have waited to make that decision until it was certain that the elven scouts hadn't found Legolas. I think that he would have followed sooner had they been anywhere else, but since they are in Mirkwood the chances of the wood-elves finding something is much higher than him finding something. *shrugs* That's, as I said, only my opinion. And I think that, at Amon Hen, he was also older and more confident about his abilities and all that. Be that as it may, I hope you'll enjoy the twins!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - So the squirrels are attacking, huh? See, I TOLD you they were sneaky and dangerous! *g* And yes, I guess Aragorn really does believe that everything's Legolas' fault. Well, he's right of course, but it's also his fault. That didn't make much sense, right? *g* And I _still_ like the 'Gruesome Twosome'. I'm rather sure Celylith is more than willing to agree by now! *g*  
**Calenore** - Great you like the monkey comments. I can of course try to put more of them into this, but the thing is that the harder I try such things the harder it becomes... *shrugs* We'll see. And I think that Thranduil would be VERY furious, at least at first. Poor Erelas would end up in the dungeons, I'm afraid... Thanks for saying that you liked that little Thranduil scene. I was in fact not really comfortable with it - I still am not, I think. *g* Well, at least you like it. *huggles*  
**Fuzzy** - Thank you! I like young Estel stories as well - huh, who'd have thought, I know. *g* Great to hear that you like my weird little stories - that's ALWAYS nice to hear! *g* - and thanks a lot for the review!  
**Suzi9** - Whohooo! Party!!! *confetti falls and Zam's orc horde appears (they throw great parties, believe me!)* Congrats! I hope the exam went well! *g* Cute, confused elven warriors, huh? Yeah, I guess there are a lot of them in Mirkwood at the moment... And I whole-heartedly agree: That stubborn pride is going to be the elves' death one of these days... Reckless creatures, really. *g* And of course you may have a talking squirrel! Everything for you! *hands her a gift-wrapped talking squirrel* Here you go! Just don't let Drákon eat it! And believe it or not, I am probably staring Ju Jitsu as well. A friend of mine knows this one dojo and since my mother's been bugging me about taking self-defence classes for ages (You know, it's such a big, dangerous city and all that! *g*) I thought it's give it a try! Would you recommend it? Apart from the knives, of course... *g* And about the languages: I haven't learned a new one in ages (if you don't count Sindarin, that is), so when I was your age, I already possessed my amazing language skills! *g* Sorry! And now you can try the "My talking squirrel ate my homework" excuse! Yay! *g*  
**Just Jordy** - Yes, Aragorn is indeed Lord Elrond's adopted son. It's in the appendixes, let me see... Yup, it's in Appendix A. 'Then Aragorn, now being the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond, and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own. But he was called Estel, that is "hope", and his true name and lineage were kept secret at the bidding of Elrond; for the Wise then knew that the Enemy was seeking the Heir of Isildur, if any remained upon earth.' So, it's true. *g*  
**Kathira** - Oh, no! Don't worry! I love every single review, and would NEVER lose one of them. Trust me, it's true. You can get rather addicted to reviews, it's sad but true. *g* LOL, 'as much Aragorn angst, injury and misery as possible'? Well, I'll see what I can do about that, but rest assured that there'll be quite a lot of that. I love him to much to let him get away easily. *g* Thanks very much for taking the time to review! *huggles*  
**Strider's Girl - **You're right, and in my opinion that's something King Thranduil should have sone a long time ago. I would have locked them in their rooms a long time ago - it appears that Thranduil and Elrond are more patient - or insane. *g* So you can buy yourself a lottery ticket? You do realise that the possibility of being hit by a meteor is higher than to win in the lottery, right? *g* Well, if you want to, keep telling me things from your life! I always enjoy hearing what's going on in other people's lives, and if you like telling me... I can't understand why either, but please, feel free to continue. *g*  
**Marbienl** - Are you sure Elrond will forgive him? I don't know - it's the second time in less than half a year that the two have disappeared, and... Thranduil: *whimpers* Oh, I love being mean... *evil grin* And you're right, in the end the Silvan Elves will have to give him some credit. They're simply too stubborn to admit that humans are as intelligent as they are. *grimaces* Bigots. Hmm, I don't know about Hithrawyn really. I doubt that there'll ever be great love between the two of them... And such a conversation seems highly unlikely as well... And take care of Frór, dammit! I might need him later! Don't let that thing eat him!!  
**Sirithiliel** - Yeah, I know, and I love every single one of them! I LOVE reviews!!! *g* Hmm, yeah, if the men were clever they would be fleeing in terror right about now, which proves that they're not clever. Nope, they're in fact rather stupid. And I totally agree: Pirates of the Caribbean IS great!  
**Louise_Oblique** - I'm sorry about not having Legolas in the last chapter. The thing is that, right now, I have to cover so many angles and different points of view that I simply don't have the space to put all of them into every chapter. I hope to reduce all that in the next few chapters though. 'Hope' being the main word here... *g*  
**Joee1** - LOL, you really did that? That's in fact something I could very well do myself... I have done it quite a few times actually, when reading a book. *g* So, I'm a little weird myself. So, I hope you'll read this chapter right away this time, thanks for sharing that little story! It's good to know it happens to other people, too!   
**MerryElf** - *g* Thank you! Great you liked the squirrels, and yes, Celylith is indeed in this story. Quite a few people asked if he would be; it appears that the dear elf has a few fans out there! Good for him! (Celylith: *beams*) Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Karone Evertree** - Good to hear that you can wait till chapter 14/15. It would be too bad otherwise, since it's already written and nothing I can change. Well yes, I COULD change it of course, but that would ruin the plot and we can't have that, can we?   
**Orlandofan13** - Yes, it can be very confusing at first. It took me ages till I had figured out what "TBC" meant. I couldn't get it into my head. *g* Well, about the Elvish: It of course depends on what language you wish to learn. The only real thing I can tell you right now is to forget about the Grey Company's dictionary. It's incorrect, plain and simple. It's just a bad, distorted version of Quenya. *shuddders*   
**Snow-Glory** - Well, of course they're going to get involved! Did you expect anything else? *g* Will Aragorn find Legolas before the twins find him? I won't answer that, just remember that Aragorn left a day after Legolas' captors whereas the twins _arrive_ in Mirkwood three days after Aragorn left. So, what are the chances? *g* And about the finding-out-part: Nope, I'm afraid not. Not any time soon, I'm afraid...  
**Halo** - Well, yes, YOU would be a very happy camper too! You're weird and evil and sadistic and did I mention evil? *g* LOL, he's smiling on the inside? Yeah, I guess you could say that... *g* You're writing a new story? Really? I kinda missed it - as soon as this is up I'll go and have a look at it! Promise! Thanks a lot for your review, I hope everything's well at home! *huggles*  
**Grumpy** - I am very glad I could make you laugh, of course. King Thranduil is to be pitied, however - poor elf, really... *pats his head in sympathy* You saw Master and Commander? Well, you're braver than I, you could pay me money and I still wouldn't go and see it. Plus, I HATE Russell Crowe, so.. *g* But the TOm Cruise movie was really good. You know, it actually had a _plot_. And a meaning! I know, it's rare enough in Hollywood movies! *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - So I see you've met with the talking squirrels, eh? They may be evil, but they're quit amusing actually - especially the way the scare Aragorn. *evil grin* Hmm, war or reviews? That's a tough choice, really, let me think ... WAR!!! Just the idea of overthrowing the One is too much fun to miss!! War!!!!!! *g* J/k, I love reviews more than mindless killing - I think. *g* *spits out confetti* Great you feel sorry for Thranduil. It was my pleasure.  
**Nicole** - You know, there is that little thing called "irony". When I said "some elf torture" I meant in fact more than "some", but I've learned that you should never declare your intentions for your characters too openly when they're around to hear you. Elves are wicked fast, you know, and once Legolas finds out what I've planned for him and his friends.... *shakes head* Nah, that wouldn't be too good. I congratulate you on your first review, it was rather long for that! Thanks!   
**Zam** - First: I hope you and Lina are better now. If you're not, don't come too close to me, I refuse to become ill again. Got it? *suspicious look* Good... Well, duh! Of course Aragorn's stupid, or he would never have befriended Legolas. I mean, only a really dumb or suicidal person could do that! LOL, you like it when Celythramir speaks of cruel and merciless death? Well, if that's so I'll see what I can do in the future... *g* And Erelas couldn't have gone with Aragorn, that would have been desertion! And I don't think that Thranduil is really in the mood for something like this now! *g* It's great to see that you like MInas Morgul so much - and don't worry, Celylith will get used to it too! Eventually... Huggle Larry and Lina for me!  
**Alisha B** - Well, well, well - what have we got here? Is it an ALISHA? A member of the species everyone thought extinct since they didn't show themselves anymore? Nah, it can't be... can it? *g* But well, if you were AMBUSHED by ORCS on your way to chapter 6 it's an entirely different thing, of course. *grins and huggles* Well, I'm glad you're back, I hope your exams went well? And I couldn't agree more: Legolas needs to keep his mouth shut. I think he can't though, it's an elven genetic thing or something - I think that pride of theirs is going to get them killed one day... *g* Cut out his tongue? Well, it's an interesting idea for sure... You want me to do what? Fingernails? Hmmm, I'll think about it - perhaps a little later, somehow it's too subtle for Teonvan I think. *huggles again* Thanks for reviewing!  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - Yeah, well, you see I have this problem at the moment. There are too many different angles and points of view to cover at the moment, so I can only have one of them in each chapter. This chapter all the Aragorn fans are going to start moaning, just you wait... *wail can be heard "WHAT?? No Aragorn??"* You see? *g* And yes, I figured that, as a human, Aragorn needed some help to escape Mirkwood. It's a fortified palace, so he can't just get up and walk off... I think. *g* Hmm, I don't know that story you quoted; it appears that Legolas does indeed inspire this kind of over-protective behaviour. Poor elfsie... *g*  
**Elvendancer** - Hmm, I really hate to say that, but from a purely movie-point-of-view (you know, if one ignores that RotK was supposed to be Tolkien's RotK) The Last Samurai was a much better movie than RotK. I don't know why, but I even liked the fight scenes better even though they were on a much smaller scale. They were wonderfully done and exciting, whereas in RotK I've always thought things along the lines of "Oh, another 10000 orcs bite the dust - oh, there goes the computer-generated troll..." *shrugs* My opinion only, I guess. Hmm, Reran's none too happy at the moment either, believe me, I think Teonvan will be very happy though, eventually. Around chapter 14/15, to be precise... *g*  
**Iray Kentia Moon** - Well, thank you! It's great to hear that you liked the story until now, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well! Thanks for the review!**  
Firnsarnien** - It didn't have WHAT? The review button disappeared? O God, that's horrible! Not all people are as kind as you and send me mails instead! I will ... I will, yes, I will sue FF.net! Curse them, preciousss!! *shakes fist* And yes, of course I eat Hobbit feet! They're delicious with mint sauce! *g* LOL, and yes, OF COURSE you enjoy elf torture! You know, denial ain't just a river in Egypt and all that... *evil grin* You might just as well admit it. I'm sorry there was no Legolas in the last chapter, but I have neither the time nor the space to have both him and Aragorn in every single chapter. So I am doing it in turn right now; I _am_ hoping to return to having both of them in the same chapter soon though. *grimaces* We'll see. Okay, thanks a lot for the huge review! You're very sweet! *huggles*  
**NaughtyNat** - *evil grin* Well, you would like the Aragorn-impaling-himself-on-the-branch-bit, wouldn't you? I would have been very much surprised otherwise... *g* Uhm, let me summarise that. You thought the scene in which dear Lomar introduced our favourite ranger to his friend, the pipe, 'cute and fluffy'?? Mate, I REALLY think you need to talk to someone and get professional help... *g* Oh, you have your GCSEs now? Good luck with that! *huggles*  
**Critternut** - I hope you're better now? Life can be a b****, can't it? Don't worry about writing reviews, Real Life is much more important - or so it claims... *g* And I never said there wouldn't be Legolas angst till chapter 14, I said there wouldn't be Legolas torture till then. It's a difference. And, to be perfectly honest, it's more like chapter 15 now - sorry! I couldn't do anything! Not my fault! Hmm, sorry to spoil your perfect plan, but there won't be any escaping in the near future - that would ruin the whole plot. And, as I said, I don't know about the legs. Would kinda ruin it as well. *shrugs* Sorry. You're jealous because the twins take away Legolas' spotlight? Okay, mate, you REALLY have to get some help... *g*   
**Bailey** - Uhm, yeah, well, I guess you could say that. Half-dead people tned to be not so beautiful and hot and heavens know what else... *g* Will Aragorn meet trouble in the woods? *innocent expression* Nooooooo.... Will the twins go after Aragorn? Nooooooo.... You have really weird ideas, my friend... *g* I would never make them do such things, never... *g*   
**Maerz** - Du liest Sachen nicht am PC? Echt? Wenn ich alle fanfics ausdrucken wuerde, denen ich irgendwie folge, kaeme ich gar nicht mehr aus dem Drucken raus... Wenn man sich einmal ans Lesen am Computer gewoehnt hat, geht's eigentlich auch. *zuckt Schultern* Na ja, jeder nach seiner Facon... *g* Ich hoffe, dass du mittlerweile aufgeholt hast; ich will dich ja nicht unter Druck setzen! *g*  
**Cicci** - *nods fervently* Thank you! That's excatly what I thought! I mean, he _knows_ he's the Heir of Isildur and all that, I think he would at least TRY to be reasonable and mature, right? Right. *g* And of course I have something up my sleeve - except several aces *g* - I love Aragorn far too much to let him get away so easily, trust me! *g* And you're right of course, I didn't create the tension and hostility between the baddies just for the fun of it. It has a reason, you'll see... Great to hear that you liked Thranduil last chapter, I'm always very nervous about writing him. He's a tough one, he is... *g*  
**Sammy** - Well, uhm ... sorry? I really couldn't update yesterday, you know, Real Life and all that? I hope the wait wasn't too harrible, thanks for the review!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, to be perfectly honest it's no elf torture till chapter 15. Sorry about that, the characters once again refused to shut up. *shrugs* Blame them. And I agree, it was predictable that Aragorn would sneak out of the palace. I mean, we all knew he would do it, right? I got your Official Stamp of Approval! Wow, that means so much to me!! *huggles* Thank you!! And I would love that hiding place in your basement, but what exactly is The Thing? *g*  
**Sheila** - *blushes* Thank you! I hope that my stories are at least a bit suspenseful - it's always quite hard to say when you already know what's going to happen - and funny - there are quite a few things that I don't think particularly funny, but you guys do and the other way round. *shrugs* Whatever. Thanks a lot for your kind words and for taking the time to review!  
**Armageddon5** - Hmm, I see. Could you give me an example? Or tell me the next time you don't know who is thinking/saying what? I would really like to avoid making the same mistake twice, and if you could tell me exactly what you mean I would be able to change it. *g* Thanks a lot in advance. And about the 'small background stories': I simply don't have the time or space to go into detail all the time. I am already hard-pressed to end this in the next fifteen or so chapters, and if I would start going into every little story ever mentioned I wouldn't finish this at all. If I ever have the time, I might write the troll story or how Aragorn and Legolas met, but I doubt it will be in the next few months. And there is no great story behind how Celylith and Legolas met. They were elflings, and I don't write children stories. *grimaces* I don't like children all that much, and I don't think I could write them, elven or not. *g* Thanks for the review, btw! *g*  
**Rabbit of Iron** - So you like elf torture, brown paper packages and elves in white dresses, but no baby bunny rabbits? *blinks* Alright then... LOL, I hope you're indeed not putting the things my weird mind comes up with into practise! That would be awful; I would have inspired someone to become a psychopathic serial killer! *g* It's great to hear that you like my little non-series (don't ask me why, but I'm ver reluctant to call it a series. It sounds so overly important. *g*), and there will be probably another story after this one. That would be the sequel to the sequel to the sequel of AEFAE, I believe. *g* And I'm not only an elf torturer, I'm also a ranger torturer, let's not forget that. I am proud of my fairness. *evil grin*   
**Firniswin** - My bio was weird? Really? I haven't changed anything for ages - must be FF.net again, curse it. It hates me, I swear it does... *g* And believe me, you're not the only one who loves Aragorn. There are quite a few people here, actually. *g* I hope I hurried enough and you didn't die waiting - it sure sounded like that! *g* And when you sent me that email, the chapter was already posted, honestly!  
**Iverson** - Oh, I understand, don't worry. It seems that Real Life is out to get us... *g* LOL, didn't we all know that the 'idiot ranger' was going to do something like that? And I think he can't listen to other people _because_ he is an idiot ranger. Plus, it wouldn't be half as funny if he started to behave really reasonable. *evil grin* And yeah, you _might_ start sounding like a broken record. Come on, really: Do you honestly expect him something as reasonable as returning to the palace? Well? I didn't think so... *g* And don't worry, Legolas is indeed alright. A little worse for wear, but essentially alright. *g*   
  
**Once again, I'm sorry for being a day late. Don't blame me, blame Real Life. Or whichever evil entity you can think of. College is doing quite nicely for me, though. *g***  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Lengthening Shadows

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**A/N:  
  
Well, it's nice to see that you missed Celylith and the twins so much! Everything should get much more interesting now - even though you're right, I am _definitely_ beginning to pity Glorfindel. It's a miracle the poor elf survived the journey over the Misty Mountains in more or less his right state of mind... *g* Poor Glorfindel.  
  
Uhm, yes, I have an announcement to make. *dons metal armour* You know what I told you about elf torture in chapter 14? I lied. Well, not "lie" as in "consciously deceive" but, well, most of it is in chapter 15 now. I'm sorry, and I didn't do it on purpose. I simply refuse to write chapters which are longer than 15 to 17 pages (unless at the end of a story, when I'm desperate to end the whole thing), so there was no other choice than to put most of it into the next chapter. There's some in chapter 14 though, but nothing bad, sorry. You're far too bloodthirsty anyway. So, I hope you'll forgive me. *innocent smile***  
  
**There also is a pattern beginning to become visible, isn't it? I mean, Aragorn was in chapter 11, Legolas was in chapter 12, and this is chapter 13. Yes, bingo, that means that there'll be no Legolas in this chapter, you're right. Give the man/girl a cigar! BUT he'll be back in the next one, and BOTH of them shall be in chapter 14 and 15. That's something, right? *watches enraged Legolas fans with wide eyes* Right? Oh, and that should also answer the question of when Aragorn is going to find Legolas. *g*  
  
Alright, enough talking. The next chapter's here, and we'll see the evil lord! I told you he'd be in this story! *g* Other than that, we have a few little conversations between various people, Celylith and the twins' party arrive at the palace, and Aragorn finds out that some things are more beautiful than others. *g* I love to be cryptic.  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
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**Chapter 13  
  
At the same time that Celylith awoke and found that the twins had somehow stolen his bow in the night and had buried it in a snow drift where it had frozen to a branch, a servant opened the door of a pigeonry and saw to his surprise that there was one more pigeon sitting on the wooden beams than when he had last been here, namely the day before.  
  
The man was greatly puzzled for a few moments, and while he was trying to get a hold of the bird that had apparently arrived last night, he tried to remember which messages were due. There were none, he thought in confusion, but grinned broadly when he managed to trap the newly arrived pigeon between the back wall of the wooden construction and his hand.  
  
He quickly lifted the bird out of the pigeonry and loosened the cords that attached the small, bronze cylinder to one of the animal's legs. A second later he released the pigeon that fluttered into the remotest corner of the cage, its feathers slightly ruffled and sticking out at odd angles.  
  
The man eyed the cylinder curiously. No messages were expected at the moment, at least none he could think of at the moment. Who could be sending his liege a letter? A second later his eyes fell on the small symbol etched into the metal, the symbol that told anyone who knew the system which captain this message was from.  
  
The servant felt how the blood left his face. O Gods, what had he done to deserve this? He knew this symbol, he had been praying for days not to be the one on duty when this message finally arrived. The possibility that it did arrive at all had diminished with each passing day however, and so his and colleagues' anxiety and fear had diminished as well. And now here it was; there was no mistaking it.  
  
No, there was indeed no doubt about it, the man decided as he slipped the tiny cylinder into one of his pockets and ordered his assistant to finish their work here. This was Reran's sign, the sign he had inherited from the former highest ranking captain who had died some time ago on a mission, Adruran. He would recognise the small symbol anywhere for he had often carried such a message directly to his lord when he had been awaiting a report from Adruran and his men. Letters bearing this symbol were always of prime importance and were to be brought to their lord immediately, without delay.  
  
As if moving in a trance, the man climbed down the ladder that led down from the pigeonry to the snow-covered ground and began to make his way over to the main building, not really noticing that several of the other servants were giving him looks of sympathy. He was emitting the air of a person about to ascend the scaffold; an air every single one of this town's inhabitants knew all too well, and as much pity as the other might feel for him, there was none who would have willingly taken his place. Everything was better than having to deliver bad news to their liege.  
  
A small voice inside the man's head insisted that it might not be necessarily bad news, that it was well possible that Reran and his men had been successful and were already on their way back. Right, he snorted as he climbed the stairs leading to the main doors and passed the guards without question due to his livery. Of course it was possible that Reran had succeeded, but then again, there was the very likely possibility that he had not. And if there was one thing he didn't want, it was being the bearer of such news.  
  
With a deep sigh the man consented himself to his fate and made his way through the winding corridors of the large stone building to his lord's chambers that took up most of the space on this level. Before he rounded the last corner, he stopped shortly and took a deep breath, sending a quick prayer to the Gods to at least grant him a quick death if he had to die.  
  
After a moment, he forced his face into an emotionless mask and rounded the corner, quickly walking over to the large wooden doors that led to his lord's study. The guards posted there didn't stop him either once he held up the small messenger tube, and so the servant raised a slightly trembling hand to knock.  
  
For a short, fleeting moment no sound could be heard from inside his liege's rooms, and a fervent hope began to grow in the man's heart. Could it be that his lord was not here? That he was away or with one of his mistresses? It was a most pleasant vision indeed, one that could not last of course. A second later the gruff, impatient voice of his lord rang out, sounding none too pleased at being disturbed.  
  
"Yes!? Come in, in the Gods' name!"  
  
Rigid with fear, the servant shot the guards a frantic look, but all he received in return was an identical, gleeful grin that could be seen on both the men's faces. Damn them and their whole lot to whatever dark abysses there were, he thought enraged, and with the fury burning hotly in his veins he found the courage to open the doors and enter his lord's study.  
  
The first thing he noticed was how dark it was; something that never failed to surprise him. Their home might not exactly be a cheerful, bright place, and only a most depressed person would ever call it beautiful, but this room was extraordinary even for this place. It was black, completely, utterly black. There were some accessories like drapes, curtains and chandeliers were of a somewhat lighter colour, a dark grey of sorts, but the floor and the furniture were black as night. Even the walls and the ceiling appeared to be black on first sight, since the stone was covered with dark, wooden panelling that time and the smoke of countless candles and open fires in the hearth had turned a dark brown colour. Even the sunlight that streamed through the two windows set into the outer wall seemed to have trouble piercing the gloom that filled the room.  
  
All in all, the servant thought dryly, only to be mortified by his own mental boldness, it was a setting only befitting the man occupying it.   
  
The man who was lord of this place and so much more beyond it looked up unwillingly from the papers that were strewn across the polished surface of his black desk and gave the servant who had just entered the room a glare as dark as the floor the other was standing on.  
  
"This had better be important," he advised the other man darkly. "I hear Glamir needs a new project, and if you have come to bother me with trivialities, I would be more than willing to supply him with one. You."  
  
The servant felt how the fear in his heart multiplied at the mere mention of that name. If there was one person who was as feared as their lord, it was Glamir. No-one did actually know where he had been born, but he had come here with some merchants from Northern Gondor about five years ago. Just as shrouded as his origins was his former occupation, even though it wasn't that hard to guess. The man gulped. Glamir was his liege's master torturer, and was said to be a master of his craft. Then again, he added dryly, he had yet to meet someone who had been one of Glamir's "projects" and had lived to tell the tale, or had lived to make any statements about his abilities and the quality of his work.  
  
The man tore his thought away from that not very pleasant topic and bowed before his lord, careful not to meet the other's fiery glare. It was common knowledge that he had once had a guard executed for the way the man had looked at him.   
  
"A message arrived with one of the carrier pigeons during the night, my lord," the servant answered tonelessly.   
  
"And for that you disturb me?" his lord thundered, his dark eyes darkening even further so that they turned the same colour as his black suede tunic. "I think Glamir will be most pleased indeed."  
  
"But, sire!" the servant added desperately. "It is from Captain Reran."  
  
The dark-clad man who had obviously been about to say something – something uncomplimentary – fell silent, an uneasy, tense silence that only served to terrify the already very terrified servant even more. It appeared that he had already forgotten that he was not alone in the room since he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to the window, letting his eyes wander over the busy courtyard.  
  
The servant felt his unease increase, something he had thought impossible. He had no point of reference for this behaviour; what was he supposed to do? Stay and hope his lord had forgotten about him? Leave the message here and leave? O the Gods, why him? He should have listened to his mother and joined the guard corps! But then again, he thought darkly, they usually didn't live long either; one only had to look at Adruran's men who had died, all of them, only a few months back.  
  
Finally, when it became apparent that the dark haired man at the window did not intend to move any time soon, he decided to take the risk – and make most probably the worst mistake of his life, but if he didn't do something soon, his heart would give out anyway.  
  
"My lord?" he questioned softly, wincing openly when the other man cocked his head to the side and began to turn around. Alright, he thought. Here went nothing. "The message?"  
  
The dark haired man blinked twice, and the other noticed with some surprise that, somehow, the pale sunlight that filtered through the half-covered window appeared to be swallowed by his dark figure.  
"Give it to me."  
  
The man stepped forward and offered his lord the small bronze cylinder, quickly taking a step backwards again when the other man took it up and opened it with slow, controlled movements. For a moment, the servant contemplated if he should leave the room to give his lord the opportunity to read the letter in private, but quickly decided against it. His liege might kill him if the news was bad, but he would most certainly kill him for leaving the room without permission.  
  
For long moments it was silent in the room, and nothing could be heard except the small, rustling sounds of the thin paper when the dark-clad man moved ever so slightly. The courtyard was too far down for the almost hectic sounds of the bustling soldiers that hastened to and fro to be audible, and so the silence was stifling and heavy and threatened to rob the servant of the last shreds of his composure he had still left – which weren't too many.   
  
After half an eternity – the servant would later swear that he had aged at least twenty years during that time – the dark haired man looked up from the message, dark brown eyes gleaming with something that could only be described as complete, all-consuming satisfaction. He once again looked down on the few sentences that had clearly been written in great haste, and seemed to come to a decision as he lifted his head again to look the cowering servant in the eye.  
  
"Get me the war council," he ordered curtly. "I want them here in ten minutes."  
  
"Yes, my lord," the other man answered automatically, not even bothering to think about how he should manage to find the eight members of the war council on such short notice and bring them here in ten minutes. The gratitude that had swept through his heart when he had realised that the news had indeed been good news was quickly replaced with dread.  
  
"And in two hours I want to see the ambassadors," his lord went on, already walking back to his desk. He looked up to give the other man who looked as if his world had just turned upside down a hard, flinty look. "All of them, no exceptions. You may tell them that I will be most displeased if they don't appear here at the appointed time."  
  
The other man returned his liege's gaze blankly, too shocked to avert his eyes. How in the name of all the Gods was he supposed to do that? The ambassadors that had been called here a month ago were notoriously hard to convince to do anything, especially to appear anywhere they did not want to be. They were proud, brutal people who seemed to delight to make war on anyone they came across. The worst thing was that they not only fought outsiders, they also fought one another so that it was nigh impossible to get the ambassador of the northern tribes to stay in the same room as the ambassador of the western tribe, and if the ambassador of the tribe living closest to the great lake entered the picture, it was a guarantee for bloodshed.  
  
Once again the servant found himself answering automatically.  
"Yes, sire."   
  
It was the only possible answer anyway; the only possible answer that guaranteed your continued survival, that was. His lord waved his hand in dismissal, but before he could turn fully around, the other man remembered something and decided to rather chance his lord's wrath now than to be held accountable later.   
"My lord, what about Lord Súliat's delegates? Are they to appear before you as well?"  
  
The dark haired man thought hard for a moment. His mysterious benefactor's emissaries had arrived barely a week ago and had seldom left the quarters they had been assigned, and if they did, they did it only to inspect the army's training. It was a behaviour that was beginning to bother him slightly, but then again, considering the amount of money their lord was willing to provide, they were probably entitled to a few eccentricities.   
  
"No," he finally answered, returning to the present. "No, I want to see them later, at sunset. It is time we discussed a few things. Have them informed that I expect their presence at dinner. You may go now."  
  
"Yes, my lord," the servant repeated and bowed deeply before turning on his heel and disappearing so quickly that one would have been hard-pressed to say where exactly he had gone.  
  
The other man hardly noticed his departure for his eyes remained firmly fixed on the slip of parchment he still held, his mind already a hundred miles and at least three battles away. So he had really done it, he mused, Reran had succeeded. If he was perfectly honest, he hadn't expected the older man to send a message – or make it back alive for that matter – but Reran had apparently managed to do so; perhaps Teonvan had even helped, who knew.  
  
Well, there were only two important points to this, namely that Reran _had _succeeded and that he himself hadn't made an error of judgement. He had known that Reran hadn't been happy about having been forced to take the brown haired commander with him, but once again it appeared that he had been right about whom to choose for which task.   
  
His thoughts returned to the letter, or rather the message, for there were only two hastily scribbled lines of tilted and somewhat tremulous letters that looked very much as if the hand that had written them was not used to using ink and pen but rather sword and spear. The dark haired man's eyes fell on the part of the message that caused the feelings of satisfaction and complacency to swell once again in his heart. _"__Mission__ accomplished. Will return with our guest in approximately ten days."_  
  
There were a few more clipped, inelegant sentences, but they were of little importance compared to these, yet he couldn't help but read the entire message again and again. Finally, after all these years his family and he had waited! Reran had managed to capture an elf and was bringing him here; that was the last thing he had been waiting for before he could set his plans into motion…  
  
Yes, he concluded after a moment, now was the time to bring the ambassadors into this. He would need their answer now; otherwise valuable time would be wasted. Reran had said in his letter that he would arrive in about ten days, and he would already have included possible delays. The pigeon had arrived yesterday, plus one and a half or two days it would have needed to get here … that meant his men would arrive here in about a week. With the elf.  
  
A large grin once again wanted to show on his face, but the man pushed it back, reminding himself of the fact that even _if _Reran and the others got here and _if _the elf knew what he wanted to know and _if _everything else went according to plan (and he had learned that it never did), it would be anything but easy to go through with his plans. If he failed, everything all the generations of his family before him and he himself had worked for would be for nothing, and all his lands would fall into ruin.  
  
Ah well, he shrugged inwardly, he didn't care in the slightest what happened to the rest of the world if he was dead. He would get what he deserved, what they deserved, and if the elf didn't help him, he would regret it dearly, and he would find another way.   
  
No-one would be able to stop him, least of all the Elves. He was not interested in them anyway; all he wanted was what he was entitled to, nothing more.  
  
And that, he thought darkly while he waited for his war council to arrive, was quite a lot.  
  
++++++++++

  
The shadows of the dark, almost black trees were lengthening, and the gloom that filled the space between the treetops and the forest floor began to intensify. Everyone who had been to Mirkwood once knew what these signs meant: Dusk was quickly approaching, and in a matter of minutes it would be too dark to see your hand in front of your eyes.  
  
That, however, was a development Celylith could very well live with, especially when one considered the way the twins were grinning once again. The silver haired elf growled. If it hadn't been for Lord Glorfindel and the other warriors, he would have killed them, both of them, without the slightest hesitation. Slowly. Painfully. Permanently.  
  
They had touched his bow. By the Valar, they had not only touchedit, they had _stuck it _into a _snowdrift_! Celylith's expression darkened even further, giving him the distinct appearance of Sauron on a bad day. How dare they! Didn't these Noldor know anything? No-one touched a wood-elf's weapons, no-one, and no-one stuck them in a snowdrift of all things!  
  
When he had woken up this morning and looked into the faces of these little orcs where barely controlled hilarity had been plain to see, he had known that trouble was afoot. He had of course not thought that they would do something like this – his bow! How could they!! Annoyance and anger once again welled up inside of him. To remove that piece of wood from his weapon without damaging it had been hard enough, and Ilúvatar alone knew what other damage his bow had suffered by spending a night in the wet, cold snow.  
  
Oh, he thought darkly, he would get them back for this. He knew that Legolas was still looking for a way to avenge himself on the twins who had glued his spare knives to their sheaths, and miraculously he was more than willing to help his lord all of the sudden. He would of course participate in whatever scheme his prince had devised, but just in case Legolas hadn't thought of anything yet, he was more than willing to supply him with a few ideas. He had had more than enough time to come up with some after all, and right now the mental image of two bound twins being burrowed in a snowdrift – scantily clad, of course, his bow hadn't had any clothes either – figured most prominently in his mind.  
  
Celylith amused himself with that particular idea for a few moments, a part of him still staying alert and cautious, now more so than during the past hours since nightfall was upon them. This was the favourite time of many predators to attack, when their intended prey was unable to see properly in the growing twilight, and he would be damned if he allowed his king's guests to be eaten by wolves, spiders, wargs or things of the like. Even if that meant not allowing the twins to be eaten, either; this was, unfortunately, not a perfect world.  
  
There was still the tiny, nagging unease however, an unease that refused to be appeased. By now he knew that the bad feeling had not been about the twins' arrival; there was something wrong with Legolas or Aragorn or both, he just knew it. It was one reason why he was in such a bad mood that none of the Imladris elves had made a move to draw him into a conversation; the other reason why he was exceptionally ill-tempered was the fact that the twins had touched his bow, naturally. For which they would pay, oh yes, they would, that he vowed by Elbereth's stars.  
  
Celylith sighed inwardly. There was no telling what that reckless human and his equally reckless prince had got themselves into this time; he was jut hoping that he would get there in time to somehow help them escape Mandos' Halls once again. Ha, he thought after a moment, when had he ever been quick enough to protect his prince? Surely not in the last few centuries, and probably not even before that. Besides, this feeling had started nearly three days ago, so whatever trouble one or both of them were into, it would probably be far beyond his aid already. It always was.  
  
His uneasy feelings reaching new, unheard-of dimensions, the young elf forced himself to return his attention to the road, which proved to be a good thing since he noticed that they were merely ten to fifteen minutes away from the beginning of the broad alley that would take them to the front gates of his king's palace. He gave a small sigh of relief. He would be home in twenty minutes and would finally find out what was going on and what he could do to help Legolas. Even if he was too late to prevent his liege's son to get himself _into _trouble, he would get him _out _of it, in Eru's name!  
  
He was so lost in his musings that he didn't realise that a horse had moved next to his, and when a half-worried, half-amused voice spoke up, it nearly caused him to reach for his still-not-completely-dry-bow.  
  
"A fine guardian you make, _mellon nín_. Even that abominable pet of yours could have travelled with us and you wouldn't have noticed."  
  
Celylith smiled ruefully and turned his head slightly to look Elrohir in the eye who seemed to blend into the growing twilight with his grey cloak and dark hair.  
"I imagine you are right, Elrohir, at least this time. I am sorry."  
  
The younger twin blinked; an admission of his distraction had been the last thing he had expected from the other elf.  
"Of course I am right, Celylith," he declared haughtily, somehow managing to look like both his father and the Lady Galadriel for a moment. "Sons of Elrond are always right. It's in our blood."  
  
"Of course," Celylith agreed, a wicked glint creeping into his eyes, his bad feeling almost forgotten for once. It refused to dissipate completely though and continued hovering at the back of his mind like a dark, malicious cloud. "Along with arrogance, general incompetence, clumsiness and the inability to hit a target that's ten feet away from you."  
  
"Careful, wood-elf, careful," Elrohir advised him darkly, even though his eyes gleamed mischievously. "You are less than ten feet away from me, and I suddenly feel the nearly irresistible urge to try and put an arrow through your head. I just might hit you."  
  
"'Might' being the main word here," Celylith grinned. "Neither you nor that older brother of yours could hit an orc if it were standing right in front of you. In fact," he added, moving his horse slightly to the side when he saw the burning look in the younger twin's eyes, "I do believe that out of the three of you Estel is the only one who shows some talent. If he were an elf and we had a few hundred years, I could make a fine archer out of him." He fell silent for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the matter. "I would of course have to correct all those 'techniques' the two of you taught him, but then…"  
  
"Go on, Celylith, please," Elrohir smiled friendly, a smile that suddenly reminded the silver haired elf that the other elf was, after all, related to Lord Elrond. There was no-one who could awaken terror in your heart with a simple look quite like the half-elven lord of Rivendell. "Surely there is more you would wish to share?"  
  
"No," Celylith said quickly, returning the twin's false smile. "Not at all, my friend, I believe my point has been made." He thought quickly, trying to come up with a safe topic. "Where is your brother?"  
  
Elrohir gave him a pitiful look, conveying with a simple glance that he was perfectly aware of the fact that Celylith was trying to change the topic in a particularly pathetic manner and that he wouldn't forget his words in the near future either.  
"He's bringing up the rear with Glorfindel and making sure our fearless Balrog Slayer stays where he is, too. I wanted to talk to you alone."  
  
The other elf frowned and cast a quick look about them. Really, they were riding at the head of the small column alone, even though it was quite hard to make out anything in the falling darkness. It appeared that the next Imladris warrior was twenty paces behind them, and at the very back he could even spy a glimpse of Lord Glorfindel's golden hair. Celylith's frown deepened. The twins were indeed far too sneaky and sly for their own good.  
  
"Whatever for, my friend?" he asked, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. He could still remember the twins' unbelieving, scathing looks they had given him yesterday night when he had told them what had transpired in Lake-town, Dale and, more recently, at the banks of the Forest River, and he had even learned some new Dwarvish curses the two of them had muttered in regular intervals – several times each, one might add. If this was another lecture about how he should have looked after Aragorn better, he would kill Elrohir. Slowly. Painfully. Permanently.  
  
He looked innocently at the elven twin, who, however, didn't start lecturing him or threatening to kill him in the most gruesome way imaginable – as Elladan had yesterday night. He had quickly regained his composure and apologised, of course, admitting that it wasn't Celylith's fault in the slightest, something about which the silver haired elf wasn't completely sure himself.  
  
"We know you better than you think, son of Celythramir," Elrohir began seriously, his eyes catching the younger elf's gaze. "There is something amiss, and I do not mean your bow or that little prank you pulled on us yesterday. You have been … anxious about something and ill at ease ever since we met. You are worried about something. Or someone."  
  
"I do not know what you mean, my lord," Celylith shook his head defensively, suddenly uncomfortable about having to admit these ill feelings to someone, even to one of the twins.   
  
The dark haired elf simply continued looking at him, grey eyes boring into dark blue ones with quiet intensity.  
"Do you not trust me, Celylith?" he questioned softly, a hurt expression appearing and disappearing quickly on his face. "Do you not trust us? Do you know us so little that you think we would not believe you? That I or my brother would slight you for whatever may be the reason for your unease?"  
  
"No!" Celylith quickly reached out and laid a hand on the other elf's forearm. "No, of course not! Legolas trusts you, and even if I knew nothing else about you, that would be enough. Yet _I _know you as well, and _I _trust you, with my family's and my lords' lives."  
  
"Then what is it?" Elrohir frowned slightly at the clearly distraught elf in front of him, beginning to get a very bad feeling himself. The silver haired elf had done a good job hiding his true feelings and acting as if nothing was wrong, but for anyone who knew him the charade was anything but convincing. His frown deepened. Celylith was one of the most cheerful elves he knew, and to see him agitated like this simply couldn't be a good sign. And considering their luck, it was probably a very bad sign, too.  
  
"I don't know," the other elf shook his head helplessly, fear, annoyance and anger warring in his eyes. "Elentári, I do not know, and it is beginning to drive me insane!"  
  
"Celylith," the younger twin said calmly, skilfully masking his own mounting worry, "You are not making much sense."  
  
For a moment, the silver haired elf's old merriment could be seen in his gleaming eyes.  
"No, I suppose I am not, _mellon__ nín_." He fell silent for a moment, obviously trying to bring order into his thoughts. "It … well, it began nearly three days ago. I had just reached Beorn's when I suddenly got the feeling that something was wrong. I cannot explain it or specify it, yet I have the feeling that I am needed at home. I don't know what it means; it was suddenly there, as if someone had reached into my head and turned it on."  
  
"Do you have such feelings often?" Elrohir asked quietly. "Are you or any of your family foresighted?"  
  
"No, and that is what worries me," Celylith shook his head. "Neither I or any of my kin have ever had a real vision, and I am far too old for something like that to develop now."  
  
Elrohir nodded his head slowly. The few elves who were truly gifted with foresight developed their talents when they matured, that was something he and his brother had both found out first-hand, and Celylith was several millennia past his maturity.  
"Then what do you think it means? Who is the one in danger?"  
  
The silver haired elf closed his eyes only to open them again a second later, looking at the twin with a tormented expression on his face  
"Do I really have to tell you?"  
  
Elrohir sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, the feelings of dread that had grown in the pit of his stomach spreading into the rest of his body.  
"Which one of them?"  
  
Celylith bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes troubled and dark as they surveyed their surroundings with the practised gaze of an experienced warrior.  
"Both," he answered curtly. "Legolas most definitely, and when the prince is in danger…"  
  
"…Estel is as well," Elrohir finished tiredly. "I know." He stared into nothing for a moment before he turned to the side again to look at his silver haired companion. "How do they do it? How? You leave them for a few months, and what do they do?"  
  
"Jump into every even remotely dangerous situation they can find," Celylith answered darkly. "I swear they do it on purpose, simply to scare me to the Halls of Mandos before my time."  
  
"Or us, my friend, or us," Elrohir shook his head, an equally dark expression on his troubled face. It appeared that he wanted to say more, but it was then that they reached the beginning of the broad alley that led up to the palace.   
  
The conversation died quickly as they passed first a second, then a second and finally a third group of warriors whose faces were unreadable and who quickly let them pass with small, respectful bows when they realised who the travellers were. Warriors, Celylith noticed with increasing worry, who shouldn't even be here.  
  
It was most unusual to meet not only one, but three groups of openly stationed guards between the beginning of the alley and the great gates, for even though the road was several hundred yards long, there rarely was the need for such extensive safety measures since there were always one or two guard contingents hidden in the trees next to the path. It had been a long time since he had last seen this many warriors in the fields outside the palace, to be precise ever since that large goblin invasion more than two centuries ago.  
  
The silver haired elf gulped and did his best to remain calm as they made their way over to the gates, moving at a far too dignified and slow pace for his liking. This was not good; Elbereth, this was downright bad, no, not even that. It was worse.  
  
After a few more minutes that felt like an eternity to Celylith they reached the gates and quickly passed them, yet not before he saw the many dark countenances and grief-stricken faces. His feelings of dread multiplied exponentially when they reached the snow-covered inner courtyard and there was no fair haired elven prince or dark haired ranger standing on the steps to the place to greet them with a smile and an impish sparkle in his eyes.  
  
'A Elbereth, what have they got themselves into this time…'  
  
There was, however, a small delegation of high-ranking elves standing on the marble steps, led by Lord Celythramir, his father, yet another thing that was definitely not a good sign.  
  
The silver haired elf lord gave his son a smile and a quick nod – something which served to worry Celylith even more, since his father wasn't exactly known for public displays of affection – before he turned his attention to his king's guests who had just dismounted and were watching as their horses were led away into the direction of the stables.  
  
"Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir, Lord Glorfindel," he said with a slight bow that was mirrored by the other elves standing behind him. "In the name of King Thranduil, welcome to Mirkwood."  
  
The entire Imladris delegation returned the bow, and the golden haired warrior gave the other elf a small, taxing smile, his eyes calculating as he looked about the courtyard where far more warriors than usual could be seen.   
  
"Thank you, Lord Celythramir," Glorfindel said, slowly letting his gaze wander over the courtyard. "We have already met with one of your warriors who graciously escorted us here. For that you have our thanks."  
  
"I am glad to hear that," the other elf replied, fatherly pride shining in his eyes for a moment before the odd, dark look Celylith had never before seen in his father's eyes returned and crushed it. He made a sweeping motion with his hand, inviting the Noldor to walk up to the palace. "Yet there is no thanks needed; you are our honoured guests. The king is most eager to speak with you – unless you want to recover from your journey first, of course…"  
  
"No," Glorfindel quickly shook his head after trading a quick look with the twins who were looking increasingly impatient and worried at their human brother's continued absence. "No, my lord, that will not be necessary. I think it would be most beneficial if we talked to Lord Thranduil now. It appears that there is something amiss in your realm."  
  
"You could not be more right," Celythramir bowed his head as they walked up the stairs. "Suitable quarters have already been made ready for your company. I am sure you will find them satisfactory."  
  
He fell silent again and they climbed the remaining stairs in silence, Celylith eyeing the stones in a mixture of fear and anxiety. His father had never been one to evade a question or twist an answer, unlike other advisors he knew. If he was behaving like this, it could only mean that the king had ordered him not to divulge anything to their guests, and that in turn could mean only one thing: There was something seriously wrong here.  
  
A second later, they reached the doors leading to the main building and turned left where the audience chambers were located, and that was the point when Elladan finally lost what was left of his patience. Elrohir had informed him in a few words of what Celylith had told him, and only a blind or completely daft person would not have noticed the hopeless, distraught air that hung over the Elvenking's halls like a dark cloud.  
  
"Forgive me, my lord," he said politely, stepping up to Celythramir as their warriors were being led off into a different part of the building. "Where is our brother, or Prince Legolas for that matter? What has befallen your kingdom?"  
  
The king's advisor stopped suddenly and turned back to his lord's guests, green eyes dark and sad and filled with a grief any of them were at a loss to explain or understand.  
"Great ill, Lord Elladan. An ill I had hoped never to witness, for the sake of this realm and for the sake of my king." He gave the twins an unreadable look and bowed his head briefly. "For what it is worth: I am sorry."   
  
Ignoring the half-shocked, half-terrified looks the three elf lords gave him, he turned back around and walked up to the great doors that led to the audience chambers, opening them and motioning them to step closer.  
"The king will explain everything, my lords. He is waiting."  
  
The twins and Glorfindel traded a look before they began to quickly close the distance between them and the doors, and a second later they were disappearing through the wooden doors into the large chamber where the King of Mirkwood held court. Celylith waited for the others to precede him and stopped at the threshold, noticing with only one ear how his friends and their father's blonde advisor were announced by the herald.   
  
"Father?" he asked in a low voice, looking at the other silver haired elf who had stopped at the doors as well. "What is going on? Where is Legolas? What is the meaning of this?"   
  
Celythramir simply looked at him blindly before taking two steps forward and enveloping the younger elf in a firm hug, oblivious to the guards that were standing left and right of the doors.  
"Thank the Valar you have arrived safely, _ion nín_," he whispered into his stunned son's ear. "When you did not arrive at noon as you should have, we were beginning to get worried."  
  
Celylith blinked twice before returning his father's embrace, doing his best to ignore the small voice that was having a fit inside his skull. They had been worried about him? He had been only a few hours late! Why would they have been worried? What could make his father behave like this?  
  
"I am sorry, _ada_," he replied, his voice slightly muffled by the other's heavy robes. "It was the snow storm; I travelled as fast as I could."  
  
"I know," his father nodded and slowly stepped back, green eyes fixed on the younger elf's confused face. "I know you did. I thank Elbereth nothing happened to you."  
  
The worry in Celylith's heart grew even more, threatening to suffocate him. His father was rather protective, yes, but it was highly unusual for him to behave as if he had just avoided certain death when he had merely been a few hours late!  
  
"What is going on here, father?" he repeated his earlier words. "Where are Legolas and Estel? What is wrong? Why are there so many warriors around the palace? Has there been an attack?"  
  
The king's advisor didn't answer and avoided his son's eyes, something that caused the fear and worry in the younger elf's heart to swiftly develop into panic.  
  
"Father!!" he exclaimed, unable to keep the panic and alarm out of his voice. "I beg you, tell me! Where – is – Legolas?"  
  
Celythramir raised his head to look at his son, and when he began to speak a moment later, Celylith found out that things were much worse than even he could have imagined.  
  
++++++++++

  
He was beginning to lose hope.   
  
It was a slow, sneaking process, a process that had been going on for quite some time, precisely ever since he had left the palace. At first it had been easy to ignore it, but the more time passed and the further he travelled the harder it became.   
  
Aragorn scowled at his surroundings, something that, had his surroundings been sentient, would not have surprised them in the slightest, for he had been doing nothing else for the past two days. He had had no reason to do anything else, he decided darkly as he gave a particularly smug-looking tree another scathing glare. He had accomplished nothing after all, after he had been searching for nearly three days.   
  
The young man looked about him darkly, his eyes already having trouble piercing the darkness that was beginning to fall. Nothing – that was quite an interesting word, wasn't it? Quite fitting too, especially considering that that was what he had found. No tracks, no trace, no broken twigs, not even an imaginary squirrel, neither of the talking sort nor of any other.  
  
He gazed blindly at the path his horse was treading. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How was that possible? He truly didn't understand it. He should have found something, _anything_ by now! He was a ranger in Eru's name, if he wasn't able to find things he wanted to find, then who was?  
  
'Thranduil's scouts, what about that?' a dark, condescending voice in his mind provided quietly. The Silvan folk of Mirkwood were excellent scouts and trackers; why had he thought he could find Legolas when they had not? It had been arrogance, nothing more, nothing less. He should have convinced the king that the humans had gone South-East instead of East, he should have made him believe him, he should…  
  
Aragorn forcefully pushed back these dark thoughts. He hadn't done these things and that was it. There was nothing he could do to change that; he would have to live with the consequences of his actions. And just because he hadn't found anything yet it didn't mean he wouldn't find something eventually. Besides, there was still the feeling he was having, the feeling that told him he was still on the right track.   
  
He would almost have laughed dryly. There _were _no tracks, that was the problem! And it wasn't only him who would have to live with the consequences of his actions, this was about his best friend as well! What if he had unwillingly condemned Legolas to certain death by doing what he had thought was right but what turned out to be nothing but folly in the end?  
  
Once again the young ranger forced himself to remain calm. If he lost it now, he might as well turn back and face King Thranduil and the rest of Mirkwood, admitting defeat and failure. He ground his teeth, the expression on his face even darkening. He would _not _do that, under no circumstances. He wouldn't return to Mirkwood – or to Rivendell for that matter – until he had found Legolas, that was something he had sworn by Elbereth's stars and it was a vow he would keep.  
  
With an effort, Aragorn wrenched his thoughts away from his elven friend and picked up his train of thought where he had left it. His feeling that Legolas' captors had taken the route South-East, yes. This feeling was in fact the only thing that caused him to keep to his original plan and not to return to Thranduil's palace, even though it was precious little to rely on.   
  
Even though he had found no indication until now that the humans had indeed come this way he had pressed on, granting his horse and himself only the most needed rest. He was trying very hard to catch up with the men, and if his estimation was correct, he should indeed have managed to reduce their head start to half a day at the most.  
  
Aragorn nodded to himself in thought, the part of him that remained alert and was on the look-out for trouble beginning to note that concentrating was becoming harder as the exhaustion he had been trying so hard to push back grew and began to claim more and more of his attention. Legolas had been captured four days ago, and if he were the men's leader, he would have left as quickly as possible and given his men only little time to rest. Even the most stupid person would know how foolish it would be to stay in Mirkwood longer than absolutely necessary after a coup such as this one.  
  
When he had left Mirkwood, they had therefore been a day ahead of him, not much longer. He had found no indications that suggested that he was right, and yet he knew that he could go with less sleep than your average human. He didn't know if this was due to his Númenórean blood or because of the training he had received both by the rangers and his brothers, but he was able to function with two or three hours of sleep a night much better and longer than most men. His animal was elven and more than aware of its master's urgency, and Aragorn knew that the horse would carry him until it dropped in exhaustion. Or, that sarcastic voice muttered again, until _he_ dropped in exhaustion.   
  
The man shook his head, keen eyes incessantly wandering over the pristine mantle of snow in front of his horse. Who needed sleep anyway? It was highly overrated in his opinion and just another thing mortals had to deal with, another thing that set him apart from most of his friends and family who, as elves, didn't have a real need to sleep. Besides, he had no desire to see the images again that seemed to visit him in his dreams, images that simply served to heighten his anxiety and sense of urgency . No, he decided quickly, sleep was something he neither desired nor could afford right now.  
  
Be that as it may, he hastily changed the topic, he had crossed into the open lands of Wilderland yesterday at noon, South of the human town of Esgaroth, and should therefore already be rather close to the humans and Legolas – if they had chosen this way, that was. He had yet to meet one of the Lake-men though; it appeared that the storm kept them in the safety and comfort of their floating city.   
  
Aragorn grinned wryly. If he had the choice, he would rather be in a nice house, sitting next to a fire and drinking something hot. Like … tea. The young human almost closed his eyes at that pleasant vision as he tried to ignore the numbness in his body that told him he hadn't been properly warm for days. He would even take his father's tea right about now, as long as it was hot. Well, perhaps not that one Elrond used to force down his throat when he was sick – it was simply disgusting.  
  
Aragorn took his thoughts off that topic as well for it only made him feel colder – something he had thought impossible. For a moment he asked himself what in the name of all the Valar he should think about then, if he couldn't think about sleep, hot food or drink, his current situation, Legolas and his captors or his own astounding stupidity.  
  
Quite an interesting question, he decided after a few moments, there was not much left if he didn't want to think about his father's and brothers' reaction to his disappearance – and he did not, of that he was sure.   
  
'Hmm,' he mused thoughtfully, 'There is still the weather.'  
  
With enthusiasm that spoke volumes about the state of his tired, exhausted mind he began to concentrate on that greatly fascinating topic, but soon found that there was little to say about the weather. It was still snowing, not nearly as heavily as it had in Mirkwood though. The storm was finally losing some strength after nearly a week, and it was the only positive piece of information the young ranger could think of at the moment.   
  
With a sigh, he spurred on his horse, giving the River Running to his left a quick glance. He still hadn't crossed it, even though it would have been easy enough for him frozen as it was. He simply did not believe that the humans would have moved over to the eastern banks of the river yet; the western bank promised much more shelter since the edges of Mirkwood were still close. If he had captured an elf and were travelling south-east along the Celduin, he would certainly make sure that he could disappear into the shade of the woods if the need arose.  
  
Darkness was swiftly falling now, and still the young ranger pressed on, unwilling to give his friend's captors the opportunity to put even more distance between them. Glancing up at the starless, cloudy sky, he sent a quick prayer to the One that Tilion wouldn't be overly tardy tonight and would steer the moon above this part of Arda quickly. The former hunter of Oromë was a rather unsteady steersman, and it happened from time to time that he dwelled too long beneath the earth. Well, Aragorn thought darkly, if he decided to do so now, he would regret it dearly, because he was in no mood to wait for a lazy Maia to raise the moon so he could see something. It was nearly pitch-black, and since he possessed no elven eyes, he would need some light soon if he did not want to miss a possible trace.  
  
Whether Tilion was indeed impressed by the threats the man muttered under his breath for the next few minutes, whether Varda intervened as she had once before or whether nothing of the above was the case Aragorn would never know, but soon the clouds broke and drifted apart and the pale sickle of the moon was revealed, bathing the lands in its soft light that was even intensified by the snow that covered everything in sight. Aragorn grinned, raised his eyes to the heavens and gave Tilion and his charge a small nod. It might not be enough light for an average human, which he luckily wasn't. He was a ranger, and for a ranger the light was more than sufficient.  
  
Only half an hour later, when he was just musing about how much colder he could possibly become – he was still torn between 'little' and 'not at all' – his horse suddenly became nervous, swishing its tail and listening attentively. Reluctantly, Aragorn reined back the animal and began to study his surroundings even more sharply. What was out there that could make his horse act like this? It surely had much sharper senses than he, and if it was acting like this it could only mean that…  
  
The dark haired ranger's eyes travelled over the small path he was following and the bushes right and left of it in search of whatever might have alarmed the beast, only to forget all about that particular question when his eyes came to rest on a small, almost undetectable impression in the otherwise perfect mantle of snow.  
  
With a speed that would have caused his elven instructors to nod in approval he jumped off his horse and fell to his knees next to the indentation, scrutinising it and straining his eyes to examine every single square inch of it. A sudden hope swelled in his heart, and yet he refused to jump to conclusions too early.   
  
Still, there was only one way to interpret this: This was a hoofprint, there was no mistaking it. Aragorn's hands deftly swept the snow to the side, and really, it was just like he had thought: There was a small, only a few inches deep hole in the ground, looking much like an abandoned rabbit hole that had never been dug completely. The horse that had left this print must have stepped right into it and had obviously had trouble extricating its hoof again, thus leaving a print that had not yet been covered completely by the still falling snow.  
  
In an instant the man was back on his feet, his eyes however still fixed on the ground as he searched for more tracks that he knew had to be here somewhere. He had yet to meet a horse that could leave a single hoofprint only to disappear into thin air a second later; in fact, he would be more than a little surprised if he ever did meet one. After a moment his eyes spied the next impression and then the next, small signs that would have gone unnoticed had he not been looking for it.   
  
His eyes never leaving the ground, Aragorn slowly began to walk down the path, not even bothering to check if his horse was following or not. The beast was an elven one however, and even though it wasn't the horse Aragorn had usually ridden while he had been in Mirkwood, it had become quite fond of its curious new master, and so it trailed dutifully behind the young human.   
  
A few hundred yards later however, it would nearly have run into the man since he suddenly stopped as if frozen to the spot. The large black horse contemplated for a moment if it should nudge the human's shoulder to see if that was what had happened, but before it could butt its head against its master in concern and disapproval of his sudden, startling actions, the man began moving again, now so quickly that he was running into the small glade that lay ahead.  
  
Aragorn stopped in the middle of the clearing, his eyes wandering over the most beautiful sight he had seen in quite a long time. It was more beautiful than Rivendell in the spring, more beautiful than the royal gardens back at Mirkwood and definitely more beautiful than the great hall of Thror in Erebor, the Lonely Mountain – then again, he was slightly biased, he admitted, since he had come to loathe small, enclosed spaces like caves, and Erebor was, essentially, nothing but a huge cave.  
  
No, it was far more beautiful than all that. It was an abandoned camp.  
  
A large grin that likened him more to a crazed lunatic than anything else began to spread on his features, but Aragorn found that he didn't care. By the Valar, he had been right, the men had taken this way, they had been here…  
  
_"Natha egleriar aen faelas lín, Fanuilos,"_ he whispered softly, still unable to stop grinning.   
  
This was one of the men's camps, it just _had _to be. How many groups of about twenty humans could be riding around in this kind of weather? While a mocking voice in his head was still informing him that, considering his luck, there were most likely plenty that were all after his blood, too, he had begun moving, keen eyes travelling swiftly over the ground. The many tracks had not yet been covered with a new layer of snow, and he quickly saw that his first guess had been correct: He could see the tracks of about twenty humans, definitely not more than twenty-five. There was nothing that would have caused him to suspect that an elf had been here as well, but that did not surprise him in the slightest. All signs that might have proven once that Legolas was travelling with these people would have disappeared long ago; the almost unnoticeable tracks and footprints would have been swallowed by the snow almost at once.  
  
Aragorn slowly pivoted on his heel, trying to find something that might indicate how long ago the men had left this place. After a second he moved over to the remnants of a hastily pitched fire that was barely visibly, already covered by a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. As he crouched down to examine it more closely he forced himself to stop grinning, and be it only because he was beginning to fear that his face would freeze in this position. Even though that was quite a disconcerting idea in his opinion, he couldn't regain control over his features, so overwhelming and all-defining was his relief afinally finding tracks of those he had followed for so long.  
  
He cleared the fireplace of the snow that covered it only to pull his hand back in shock when, deep down under several layers of snow and ash, his fingers met with the still smouldering embers that had once been a small fire. The man glared at the ashes, plunged his hand into the snow to his right and felt how he began to grin even more broadly. If these were still hot, in this weather, it meant that they couldn't be far ahead of him, six hours at the most, much less if he was lucky. He would have to travel more slowly now since he had to keep to these tracks, but still, if he rode through the night and didn't lose the trail he should be able to catch up with Legolas and his captors tomorrow morning.   
  
The young ranger quickly rose to his feet, not even giving his burnt fingers a single glance as a dark anticipation began to fill his entire being. By the Valar, he had never thought he could already be so close! He spent two more minutes in the camp to make sure he didn't miss anything that might still be useful to him or would tell him more about these mysterious men, but he found nothing, as he had expected. Legolas' captors had apparently only stopped here for a little while sometime in the early afternoon; from such a short stay there wouldn't remain much that could be useful to him.  
  
With a last look at the abandoned camp, Aragorn hurried over to his horse who had been eyeing him patiently, if not a little bit amused. Its tail was still swishing slightly from side to side, something that the man didn't even notice in his preoccupied state of mind. All his thoughts were already miles away, already with his friend and those who had dared to capture him. The ranger quickly mounted his horse and guided it across the clearing, following the tracks of the men that led South-East.   
  
These people were heading for Rhûn, the young man concluded quietly; something he had suspected for quite some time now. In front of him he could once again see the glittering ice of the Celduin, the river that flowed from the Lonely Mountain all the way down to the vast Sea of Rhûn. To Aragorn's right the trees of Mirkwood were slowly beginning to recede as the stream led away from the forest, something that was both bad and good for him. Bad because he would be easier visible in the open plains where there was little cover to be found, and good because the same went for his prey. It should become increasingly easy to track these humans now, and he did indeed not doubt that he would be able to catch up with them in the next twelve hours. He was a ranger after all, and once a ranger had found a track it took more than a little snow to make him lose it again.  
  
With a determined nod of his head, Aragorn spurred on his animal, grey eyes fixed unwaveringly on the snow-covered ground as not to miss a single track. Soon the small clearing lay once again deserted under the pale light of the moon, until, some minutes after the dark haired ranger had left, a group of stealthy, grey shadows began to appear, moving soundlessly over the snow.  
  
Yellowish eyes gleamed in the sparse light, and as one the shadows began to follow the tracks the large black horse had left, disappearing in the blackness of the night as if they had been nothing but a dark dream.  
  


  
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**TBC...  
  
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_mellon nín - my friend  
ion nín - my son  
ada - father (daddy)  
Natha egleriar aen faelas lín, Fanuilos - Praised be your mercy, Fanuilos ('Snow-white', a title of the Vala Varda/Elbereth)  
  
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_**Yes, well, who could those cute little shadows be? I'm sure Celylith would be accepting bets if he were here at the moment... *g* Okay, so there might ne no real elf torture in the next chapter, but we have ... other things. I can't really remember at the moment, but I think there was something with said shadows, and quite a lot with Legolas and Teonvan/Reran. *nods* Yes, that's about it, and it should be here on Monday/Tuesday.** **A review would be great, as always. So: Review? Yes please!  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Tapetum Lucidum** - Hmm, you might be right. I think Legolas thinks that the men in general - especially Teonvan and his friends of course - are stupid, but that Reran is somewhat competent, but that even that wouldn't have been enough had the weather not been so bad. If that maked sense. *g* LOL, fires attract bugs, wargs, giant spider and the sons of Elrond? The last is definitely the worst one, you're right... *g*   
**Deana** - Well, yes, we all enjoy them! I always think they're simply two sides of the coin... *g* Well, I didn't really post this 'soon', but I hope it wasn't so much later than you expected.   
**Forever Unstoppable** - Aha! Another lurker! *g* Thanks a lot for deciding to take the time to review my insane little stories. I love reviews, and they really help to keep you motivated, and sometimes I even get interesting idea... *g* Once again thanks a lot for the review, and it's very nice to hear that you've been enjoying this so far! *huggles*  
**Red Tigress** - *innocently* Who? Aragorn? Falling prey to a huge accident? Honestly, how did you get THAT idea? You know that that's something that would never happen to our dear ranger... *g* And in the end Glorfindel might come to everyone's rescue, but ... not really. I know it doesn't make much sense now, but it's true. *evil grin*  
**Webster** - I know, I know, and I'm sorry. There are simply too many different points of view and angles I have to cover at the moment, and I have neither the time, nor the space nor the patience to put both Legolas and Aragorn into every chapter. This will change again soon though, don't worry. Great you liked the chapter nevertheless, and thanks for reviewing!  
**Gwyn** - Hmm, okay, you're right. I guess Mirkwood as in the forest already counts as 'home'. And I am touched that you have so much faith in him- and his mind. It is something not widely shared... *evil grin* Hmm, so you liked the update? Here's another one, I hope you'll like it as well!  
**Firnsarnien** - Oh, I will, don't worry. And then I'll buy the world! Mhahahahahaha! *coughs* Ah well, whatever... *blushes* You do what? Admire me? Jeez, mate, you really need to see a doctor. There's something definitely wrong with you - or your mind... LOL, so it all was a way to get lots of elf angst? Well, you just might have been successful, there's quite a bit of that in the next two chapters... *evil grin* Poor elfsie. And yes, you could say that Teonvan is a meanie. I think that's a rather accurate description. *g*   
**Bookworm, .303** - I resent that! I do not have a habit of delaying things! It's just that you people are always too impatient! You're always asking: 'When is this gonna happen, when is that gonna happen, when...' You get the picture? How in the name of the Valar am I supposed to know? All I can give you are guesses, and guesses are occasionally wrong! Oh, and yes, I tend to delay things once in a while... *g*   
**Strider's Girl** - Who doesn't cause his/her parents a lot of trouble? Children are God's way of punishing you for all the things you did to your own parents when you were a child, that's what I always say.... *g* I thank you for your kind words, even though I don't think that Tolkien would be very pleased about the way I (or everybody else on FF.net, with a few exceptions) describe his characters. In fact, I think he would have a stroke and die. *g* I am sorry though, I can't give you any tips about writing them. As stupid as it sounds, they kinda 'write themselves'. And if you think they don't have enough emotions, then give them some! Write what they're thinking or feeling? I know, it's not very good advice, sorry.... *g*   
**Just Jordy** - Well, believe me, Celylith is none too happy at the moment. I mean, who can blame them? I would have killed them - or myself - a long time ago. Most probably them though... *g* Great I could help you with that little question, and thanks for all your reviews!  
**Jenny** - Yeah, I agree, Celylith and Aragorn would most probably be more than happy about such wonderful blackmailing-material... The government health warning would be a good idea, only problem: There is no 'government' in this part of ME, only different realms, and you know how hard it is to pass anything in even ONE realm... *g*  
**Mouse5** - Quite a lot of people thought that Celylith would run into Aragorn, which, quite frankly surprised me quite a bit. I mean, Aragorn is riding South-East and Beorn's house is South-West of the palace. The chances of meeting were, well, at least very small if not non-existent. *g* Well, I guess most people aren't quite as familiar with ME geography - then again, I only am because I am insane, so... *g*  
**Bailey** - Well, it would be best if no-one found out about Legolas' little alias, but it would be slightly boring, wouldn't it? I mean, all the wonderful possibilities.... *dreamy sigh* Nah, I guess someone will find out. *evil grin* And yes, as I said in the A/N, there will be Aragorn in this chapter, don't worry. No Legolas though, I'm sorry, but you can't have everything, I guess. *g*  
**Starlight** - LOL, Hip Hip Hurra, E und E sind da? Na, das ist doch mal ein schoner Reim... Du solltest Dichterin werden! *g* Es freut mich natuerlich, dass du diesen kleinen Satz mochtest; ich fand ihn auch ziemlich lustig. Es gibt so Saetze, die ich immer aussergewoehnlich komisch finde, was allerdings die Leser meistens nicht unbedingt teilen... *zuckt Schultern* Na ja, mein Humor ist eben komisch. Und keine Angst, Estel ist wieder hier, ganz ohne Minderwertigkeitkomplex! *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Don't worry about that, it happens to all of us all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but often enough. FF.net is evil, after all. But it's nice to hear that you liked the Leafie-bit. I'm rather sure Legolas wouldn't agree, but... *g*  
**Firniswin** - It doesn't work quite often, the author alert, I mean. I wouldn't rely too much on it if I were you... Just trust me. When I say I'll update on Wednesday, I'll update on Wednesday, unless I don't. Then I have a good reason like ... hmm, illness. Or laziness. *g* It's nice to hear that you like Glorfindel. The poor elf wasn't all that happy when I told him he would have to make an appearance in this story - don't know why either... *shrugs innocently*   
**Salara** - *grosse Augen* Wow! Na, DAS ist doch mal 'ne nette Review! Ich bedanke mich vielmals, herzlich und ehrerbietig! *verbeugt sich* Das ist wahrscheinlich die laengste Review, die ich je bekommen habe, und garantiert mitunter die hilfreichste! *knuddelt Salara* Vielen vielen vielen Dank! Ich habe mich ueber diverse Punkte koestlich amuesiert, z.B. ueber die Vorstellung, dass Aragorn sich ab jetzt nur noch mit einem Vorkoster nach Mirkwood traut. *g* Ist wahrscheinlich ein klein wenig unhoeflich, aber was tut man nicht alles... *g* Und ich bin beeindruckt: Die meisten Leute unterschaetzen unseren geliebten kleinen Teonvan. Er mag ein Idiot sein und nicht allzu helle, aber er ist berechnend und eiskalt. Alles Sachen, die noch eine interessante Kombination ergeben koennten... *g* Wie ich auch schon oft hier sagte: Es tut mir leid wegen Galalith. Es musste sein, das ganze war mehr oder weniger die Idee, wegen der ich das hier angefangen habe - wird man am Ende schon noch sehen. Hoffe ich auf jeden Fall... *g* Ja, und auch Glorfindel ist da - ist er nach Elrond einer deiner Lieblinge? Noch einmal vielen Dank fuer diese Monster-Review! Ich fand und finde sie ganz toll und wunderbar!! *knuddelt*  
**Amelie** - You know, I think we have a little communication problem here. I always thought I knew what "gravel" was, but I checked it nonetheless. You know what it says? As a noun, it equals "rock fragments and pebbles". Please tell me your mother isn't making you eat rocks! It would seriously scare me... *g* Well, rocks or not, the review isn't much weirder than usual, don't worry. It makes perfect sense - most of the time... *g* Okay, questions: 1) was answered in the A/N; 2) After; 3) That's something you'll find out soon enough; 4) I have no idea, but not anytime soon; 5) and 6) see 3). Well, I guess I didn't give too many answers, but I can't spoil everything now, can I? Nope, I can't. *takes shiny badge and bows* Thanks a lot! It's great to hear that you like Celylith! And no, Aragorn did not evaporate, I simply don't have the time, space or inclination to put both him and Legolas into every chapter. Sorry. *g*  
**Miss Attitude** - I know exactly what you mean, it's like reading several books at once. You get confused. Or like having Greek at college right after Latin. I always tend to mix up the grammar - stupid me. *g* Don't worry, it happens to me all the time as well.   
**Calenore** - Who doesn't? I definitely pity Celylith - and Hithrawyn, and Thranduil, and Elrond, and Glorfindel, and somehow also Reran. No, make that _especially_ Reran. *g* And don't worry, Legolas won't get rid of his new name so soon... No, indeed not. *evil grin*  
**Sirithiliel** - Uhm, yes, eventually Legolas (as well as Aragorn, great surprise here) will see our new best friend, the evil overlord. And yes, you're right, Elladan and Elrohir can be 'you know'. Very much so, actually... *g*   
**Elvendancer** - Yup, the four of them would definitely be on that list. Along with many, many other people - I really think that everyone but Teonvan will be on that list in the end. But him too, in the _very_ end, since... *trails off* I'm not making much sense, am I? That's nothing new, I guess... *g* And no, the fact that our favourite psychopath WILL be happy at one point or other does definitely not bode well. *evil grin*  
**Dawn** - Yup, 6 days or 144 hours. Or 8640 minutes, or 518 400 seconds. *evil grin* It's not that long, is it? Nope, not at all... Well, I hope the "enticing torment" wasn't too bad - here's the next bit.  
**Sabercrazy** - It's good you have such great and understanding friends. If you start squealing "Gofi!" all the time, I fear that even they might look at you strangely - I would! *g* So you like him, huh? I fear I can indeed not allow you to steal Glorfindel and put him into a closet - he doesn't appear too happy about it either! And no, I don't think that asking me to torture him is not really a good thing - or that this is not really an appropriate time! I heard it though, don't worry... *evil grin*  
**Celest** - *smiles sheepishly* I know, I know, and believe me, I am not yet sure myself. I love Elrond-Aragorn interaction as well, in fact, I LOVE it, but, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I will end it in Rivendell. It would disrupt the flow of the story, and even though I would love to have a baby warg, I fear that the story will be long enough already. I don't want you to spend the rest of the story on your hands and knees, so I'll tell you right now that the chances that this story will end in Imladris are slim at best. I am planning to let them get to Rivendell at the start of the next story though, that's something, right? *smiles uncertainly* Right?  
**Orlandofan13** - I fear that is something they'll never understand. Elves and their pride - it's a vicious circle. The harder you push, the more it raises its ugly head. Law of nature or something... *g* I am also trying to avoid Mary-Sues by all means necessary. Mostly I do it by not using female charaters. I'll have at least one in this story though, and I'm already afraid of writing her... *shudders*   
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Your site was down? I hope you managed to make it work! Sometimes I could swear that the internet hates me, not only FF.net. *g* LOL, so I see that you're happy to see Celylith, Glorfindel and the twins? It's nice to see, of course! *g* *blinks* So you really want to see Celylith's father in PAIN? Well, I don't know, but that's not very likely to happen, at least not in this story. I will certainly remember it though, I promise! *g*   
**Suzi9** - Oh yes, Zam has orcs. Zam and Lina also have many other things, for example the Army of the Dead, the Nine, Ted, the army of the Haradhrim, the Rohirrim and probably a few other things I've forgotten. *g* Don't ask. And I like your father. Tell him that. I also thought that the Nazgûl and their mounts were only misunderstood. *g* Oh, and I don't think I even want to start with the knives. Sharp objects have this tendency to hurt myself and others when they're in my hands. You're lucky you started so early, my family is not exactly one who looks kindly upon things like martial arts, violence or wars. I think they're all either doctors, musicians or journalists. Or a mixture of the above, and pacifists. *g* Could be worse, I guess. Great you like the squirrel, just don't let Drákon eat it! So, which language do you speak? I could help you with German and perhaps a little Spanish, but that's it, I'm afraid... And of course I am wicked! Very much so! And no, there's no escape attempt in this chapter, that would be too much like AEFAE. I thought of something equally amusing... *evil grin* Thanks for the bandages! I'm sure Legolas and Aragorn will appreciate them... Thanks a lot for your - as always - wonderful review! *huggles*  
**Karone**** Evertree **- Well - no. The evil lord's plan does not include Legolas getting much older than he is now, I'm afraid... *g* LOL, you're right of course, it will never work, but the humans can't know that yet, can they? They'll find out though... *evil grin*  
**Marbienl** - Well, this review IS signed. I don't know, but this seemed to have worked after all... *g* I'll never understand FF.net, I fear. I don't know yet who will kill whom in the end, but someone will kill Teonvan in the end, don't worry. I haven't read that book, to be honest, I don't like Patricia Cornwell. My mother loves her, I like Kathy Reichs much better though. But I've heard about that book. But no, Reran doesn't know Elvish. He's not very literate or something, he was just amised by Legolas' words. *grimaces* He has a weird sense of humour? I read about Beorn in one of these Tolkien Dictionaries, you know, Tolkien from A-Z or something. There was nothing about his wife, but Tolkien never thought someone's wife to be very important. He was a bit of a chauvinist, I guess. *g*  
**Snow-Glory** - Uhm, no, I don't think so. I mean, Celylith might still be somewhat aggrieved about having to set Wilwarin free, but I think deep down he knows that it was the right thing to do. Besides, Legolas is his prince, so what he says goes. *g* It's good to be the prince, huh? And I am not yet sure about it, but I don't think Elrond will come to Mirkwood. I mean, what would he be able to do? He has responsibilities, and I always thought that he "flying" everywhere knowing that there was nothing he could do was a little ... odd. *blushes* I am glad to hear that you like this until now. Thanks!  
**Maranwe1** - Wow! Huge review! Thank you! And about that secure log-in thing: You can change that, you know that? It's possible to change it, both if you're using Netscape and IE. I guess it's under "Preferences" or "Internet Options" or something like that. And yes, we'll see a bit of the twins' reaction, a bit later though. Sorry. *blinks* So you read all the replies? And even have FUN doing it? Well, that's interesting... *g* And I am very impressed about your habit of posting when you've already finished your story, I would need to start several months earlier. I don't think I would have the patience for that. I'm sorry about your little chapter-4-problem. I hope it and your headache is better now. LOL, you would cut out Legolas' tongue? And his ... eyebrows ... and his eyes... *trails off* Okay, I will just ignore it. Thank you very much for your long, interesting and highly amusing review! *huggles*  
**Zam** - I heard what happened from Lina. I am very sorry, truly I am. I have no idea what you must feel like. I have always been exceptionally bad at expressing my condolences and things like that, most of the time I start laughing hysterically (a stupid and highly embarassing reaction, I know), so I guess I should shut up now. *falls silent* So, you like Frodo? I don't, frankly, or at least I don't like the movie-Frodo. He doesn't have a neck! None at all! And those eyes... *shakes head* LOL at the Valar! The idea is wonderful, I was laughing so hard I almost fell off my chair! Great you like Cendan, I love him too! He's so wonderfully menacing all the time... *g* I don't know about Gothmog either. I guess you're right about him being a Nazgûl though. I could use a American slang translator though - sometimes I also have problems understanding it... Once again, I am sorry. That's not much help, I guess. *smiles sadly*

**Alisha**** B** - You should consider moving into a wildlife park! If you're lucky, you might even be joined by Legolas after a while, because you're definitely right: He is exceptionally stupid. Great you liked the Lasseg part, and you're right again: There are probably a lot more people running around called Legolas in Mirkwood. I mean, we know that elves name their children after great people, just look at Rúmil of Lórien. So, there might be more of that name around! Great you liked the twins and Celylith, and I will try to convince them to hold a knife to your throat for a while. Promise! *g*

**Carla** - Tja ja, das erste Semester. Ist immer recht aufrengend, huh? *g* Es macht schon Spass, endlich mal jemand zu sein, der nicht mehr ein Erstsemestler ist - ist ein wirklich schones Gefuehl, wart' nur ab. *g* Lass' dich nicht allzu sehr fertig machen, danke fuer die Review!  
**Cicci** - LOL, yes, they are indeed nice challenges. I could go without so many of them, though... *g* And you're right, Celylith _is_ getting the short end of stick often - or rather all the time, to be hoenst... *g* So you really like Teonvan? I guess you're quite alone there... And yes, Aragorn and Celylith will most certainly not forget about 'Lasseg' - trust me. *evil grin*  
**TrustingFriendship** - One has to be insane, I guess. Then you can write such things. *g* I'm very glad I could make you happy, and also that you liked the monkey and the talking squirrels. Don't worry about keeping up with this story, we all have a real life to worry about! Unfortunately...  
**Rabbit of Iron** - *g* See, it's just the other way round with me. I don't have anything against elf torture, but I don't overly enjoy it either. Well, as long as you people enjoy it, it's okay I guess. *g* Uhm, who is Gretel? And what is Sounds of Music? I am sorry, but to be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about... *g* LOL, I loved your theories! I have to admit that c) is my favourite! *grins from ear to ear* Thanks for the review!  
**Lina** - As I told Zam: I am very, very sorry about your friend. I never lost someone close to me before, and I have no idea what you two must feel like. I am glad you like Ted though - I hope he cheers you up a little. I'll shut up now before I start babbling nonsense. *huggles*  
**Critternut** - Ah, yes, I guess you could say that. Teonvan is a pretty mean man. And lots of people say you can see things in someone's eyes; I for my part have never been able to though. All I see is ... eyes? *g* And I think that there are some people who are been born evil. Besides, I know quite a few children who are simply evil. Most of them are, actually. *g* The twins will take some time to reach Aragorn and Legolas, but I am afraid that there will be quite a few scenes with them. Most people like them, even though they 'take away Legolas' spotlight'. *shakes head* You DO need help. LOL, and I think that most of ME would kill us or themselves if we somehow got there. And IF we did get there, it would not at all be all that great, but rather a lot like medieval times, and believe me, THOSE weren't much fun, espicially not for women. And no, and I can now say with certainty that there'll be no broken legs. Sorry. And no escaping for ... well, quite a long time, and even then it won't do them much good. And no, Legolas won't escape on his own. Sorry again.   
  
**Thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews! *huggles* I know, I know, this is getting old, but there are few other ways to phrase it. *****shrugs* So, thanks!**  
  



	14. Costly Mistakes

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**A/N:  
  
Well, quite a lot of people guessed who or what those friendly little shadows are. Especially Cathy had the characterisation down pat - I am becoming rather predictable, it appears... *g* But then again, maybe not. Honestly, people, since when do elves have yellowish eyes? And obviously want to harm our dear ranger - wait a second, no, it's not Thranduil or the twins, who MIGHT want to hurt him. *shakes head* Nah, no elves, and no men either...  
  
As I said, there won't be any serious elf torture in this chapter, so don't complain later, okay? *g* I never said that there wouldn't be any elf angst though - and the same** **goes for ranger angst. So, yes, there will be a little bit** **of Legolas and Aragorn angst/pain/whatever you want to call it** **in this chapter, I had finally enough of all the reviews threatening me with pain and doom if I kept our intrepid heroes in their uninjured state any longer. Therefore it isn't my fault. *innocent smile*  
  
I would probably say more right now, but it's been snowing for days and I'm going to go sledding. Yes, I do know it's in the middle of the night and that we will probably break our necks or impale ourselves on trees (*g*), but it's going to be fun until then.  
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**So, without further ado, here is chapter 14, in which ... hmm, yes, we see the mysterious shadows, of course (no, they're still not elves *g*), Aragorn has yet another bad feeling - I know, that's what? About the two thousandth? *g* - Reran has a bad day and Legolas gets into trouble. Really, really bad trouble. *evil grin*  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
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Chapter 14  
  
The uncurbed joy in his heart began to die down a little, enough for the man to take notice of his surroundings again.   
  
Aragorn had spent the past few hours on horseback, bent over the animal's neck so he wouldn't lose sight of the tracks that were the only thing connecting him to the ones he was following. His eyes had never left the ground, not even when the stars had begun to fade in the sky after many hours, and he still felt elated, up to the point where that feeling was beginning to cloud his judgement, he was very aware of that.  
  
The young ranger blinked tiredly as he finally dared to straighten up, a movement that caused pain to explode across his back. Muscles and tendons protested against moving after so many hours of bending forward over the neck of a horse – a most foolish thing to do – and it took several moments until the pain faded into a dull ache that was only a slight inconvenience.  
  
Aragorn resisted the urge to rub his aching back and ran a hand through his snow-coated hair, a hand that was so frozen that it appeared almost blue in the slowly growing light that was beginning to spread in the East. It had been a long, cold night, but it had been worth it: The tracks were much clearer now, and he didn't need to hang over his horse's neck like a sack of grain to be able to follow it now. The sun would rise soon, and he was rather sure that the men had come here early yesterday evening. Which meant, he concluded hopefully, that he would be able to catch up with them in a few hours.  
  
If nothing went wrong, of course.  
  
And about that he wasn't quite as sure now as he had been when he had found the camp, he added darkly. Yesterday evening it had seemed as if nothing could stop him now, and the feeling had remained with him for a rather long time too, but that was changing now, and it was changing rapidly. These past few hours he might have been too concentrated on not losing the trail to notice the small signs of nervousness his horse displayed, but not anymore.  
  
Aragorn inconspicuously made sure that his sword moved loosely in its sheath and slowed his horse's gait, his eyes wandering over his still dark surroundings. There weren't nearly as many trees covering the lands now; not nearly as many as in Mirkwood, but still enough to pose serious problems for his mortal eyesight. The shrubbery was thick and almost impenetrable as well, and he was beginning to suspect that he wouldn't even have noticed it had an entire orc horde been surrounding him, or a few trolls for that matter.  
  
And something _was _close by, he was sure about it. It was a suspicion that had been growing in his mind for at least half an hour, and, now that he thought about it, he remembered that there had been some tiny indications that he was being followed much earlier, about ever since he had found the humans' abandoned camp.  
  
Aragorn slowly guided his horse down the path and shook off the tiredness that was beginning to demand his attention. Keen eyes never left his surroundings, eyes that were beginning to dart back and forth in a rather obvious display of nervousness. He inwardly shook his head at his own foolishness and carelessness; what had he been thinking? He should have known better than to allow himself to get carried away by his relief, he should have known better than to block out his surroundings! And he certainly should have known better than to do the aforementioned things in Wilderland, and so close to Rhûn for that matter!  
  
Wilderland was not a safe place as a rule, but the further to the Eastyou came, the unsafer, darker and more hostile it became. There were a few human settlements scattered here and there, yes, but you could travel for miles without meeting anyone – if you were lucky. The eastern Regions of Arda were unfortunately rich in the most dangerous creatures imaginable, and orcs, wargs and other servants of the Dark Lord were not necessarily the worst of them.   
  
Aragorn had heard many legends and rumours about the lands surrounding the Sea of Rhûn as a child, and even though some of them might have been exaggerations or plain fiction, the common theme was always the same: Those who journeyed to Rhûn often did not return, or only in pieces. The young man grimaced, for one moment forgetting the fact that there was something out there following him, and, if he trusted his feelings which he did, something that was not intending to let him continue his travels in peace. He was in fact sure that that story, the one Elladan and Elrohir had told him and in which an incautious and in the end rather limbless traveller figured most prominently, had been indeed fiction, a means to ensure that he never travelled too far east.  
  
But still, the fact remained that people had disappeared who had strayed too far from civilised lands, one had only to think of the two Blue Wizards who had journeyed East and never returned. Not even Gandalf the Grey travelled here, and Aragorn had always thought that the wizard had probably good reason for it too. If not even the Istar wanted to go here, it meant quite a lot in the ranger's opinion.  
  
The man took his mind off these thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on the problem at hand: That he was being followed by someone, or something. In truth, he was rather sure that it was a something rather than a someone, and in fact rather a lot of something's. His horse was beginning to get increasingly nervous and skittish, something, he reproached himself, he should have noticed about six hours ago.  
  
Well, there was one positive thing, he told himself while he vainly tried to spy some of his pursuers, it were not men who were following him – if that was a good thing. He might be tired, exhausted and still so worried and anxious that he wasn't entirely able to concentrate, but he was a ranger, and would therefore have noticed if a group of men had been following him. There was no way he could have missed humans – or orcs, for that matter, not in this kind of terrain.  
  
That left only two rather uncomfortable options: One, his mysterious pursuers were elves, something which he seriously doubted. The only elves that he would be likely to encounter were wood-elves, and he knew that King Thranduil's warriors wouldn't have bothered pursuing him. They would have shot him off his horse and dragged him back to the palace so their liege could kill him, and would surely not have followed him for several hours, especially when it had become clear that he hadn't even noticed their presence. Besides, his horse would hardly have got nervous had elves been near.   
  
That only left the second possibility: Wild animals. The man ground his teeth as his head informed him of all the evidence which pointed to that fact. He had been stalked the past night, there were several of them, it was now close to daybreak, the time that most predators preferred for attacking their victims, the winter had been exceptionally harsh so most animals would be hungry if not starving…  
  
Wonderful, Aragorn ranted inwardly as he tried to find something he could use for cover, that was exactly what he needed, to be ripped into tiny pieces by a pack of wargs when he was already so close to finding his friend! The feeling that he was being surrounded grew stronger, and for the first time his horse gave a short, nervous neigh.   
  
The man gave the large tree that was beginning to emerge from the receding shadows of the night a longing look. It was still about a hundred yards away – which turned out to be ninety yards too far.  
  
While Aragorn was still trying to calm his horse and persuade the beast to resume its walk in an attempt to reach the meagre cover the tree offered, his shadowy pursuers obviously decided that they had waited long enough. The only warning that the young ranger received was a faint rustling in the bushes to his left and the soft sounds of paws that sunk into the pristine mantle of snow, and that warning came several moments too late.  
  
All of the man's fears were proven true in an instant, and before he had even turned his head into the direction of the noise, several creatures had sprung out of the undergrowth, with bared teeth and a deep, dangerous growl that would have impressed probably even the most vicious orc.   
  
It certainly impressed the horse. The sight of the large grey creatures alone would hardly have been enough to frighten the animal, but in combination with the howling and the fact that several of the beasts instantly began to snap at its legs it was more than enough to make the horse panic. It reared up with a shocked shriek, and before Aragorn had even fully realised what was happening, he was flung from his horse's back and thrown hard onto the ground.  
  
For a moment, the young man was too stunned and shocked to do anything more than blink in surprise as his world was unexpectedly turned upside-down. The paralysis lasted for only a few seconds, but when he had just regained his bearings and was reaching for his sword that was right now trapped extremely uselessly under his own body, two large, incredibly heavy paws were placed on his chest and he looked into the face of the most smug-looking wolf he had ever seen in his whole life. And he had seen quite a few.  
  
For a few moments they simply stared at each other, man and wolf, the latter which an almost human expression of self-satisfaction that not even the bared, razor-sharp teeth could dispel. Then the spell was broken as another shocked neigh ripped through the cold air, causing both of them to move. Trying to ignore the fanged grin as best as he could, Aragorn did the only thing he could think of other than allow his throat to be ripped out: He punched the animal right on its long, furry nose.  
  
The expression of shock on the animal's face would have greatly amused Aragorn under normal circumstances, but right now he didn't have enough time to even register it. All he noted was that his unexpected and admittedly useless gesture had caused the animal to reel backwards in surprise, and he swiftly used the wolf's distraction to his advantage. In the second that the animal's attention was focused on its hurting snout, the ranger rolled to the side, doing his best to ignore the way the wolf's claws were digging into him in an attempt to keep its prey immobile, and drew his knife with a speed that would even have impressed his elven friends and brothers. Well, maybe not Glorfindel, but Glorfindel was outrageously fast.  
  
A second later the wolf decided that shaking its head in an attempt to get rid of the pain in its nose would not help it to get the first decent meal it had seen in days, and with a vicious growl the animal lunged forward again, determined to kill this man before one of the other wolves could. The thing that the wolf had not taken into account, however, was that it had given its intended prey a few seconds too many to get his bearings, and so it was met with a sharp, slightly curved dagger that was thrust right into its throat.  
  
The large grey beast collapsed with a shocked yelp, and Aragorn struggled to remove the heavy body from his chest, gaining his feet just in time to avoid a second wolf that had soundlessly moved closer. The man quickly jumped backwards to escape gleaming white teeth that snapped together where his leg had been only seconds ago, and finally managed to wrestle his sword from its sheath.  
  
The wolf in front of him was apparently little intimidated by the dully gleaming weapon and sprung forward with a growl that caused the young man to blink in surprise, so much did it sound like Elladan when he had done something exceptionally stupid. Something like this, a part of his mind supplied helpfully. Getting yourself eaten by a pack of wargs could probably be considered stupid in the extreme.  
  
Before he had more time to dwell on these thoughts, the wolf was upon him, and Aragorn had to move quickly to the side to avoid having his kneecap permanently separated from the rest of his body, something that would have upset him quite a lot. The wolf missed his leg again, this time even more narrowly, and Aragorn pivoted on his heel, following the beast's movements so he wouldn't lose sight of it, something his brothers had taught him long ago. If you lost sight of a wolf or warg for a even a second, you could end up in several pieces – literally.  
  
The wolf had either gained a new sense of respect for his enemy – which Aragorn severely doubted since he had been behaving exceptionally clumsy until now – or had been startled by the fact that it had failed to get a hold of him again and hesitated a few moments before attacking again, therefore giving Aragorn a moment to cast a look around.   
  
When he returned his gaze to his opponent a second later, he felt more annoyed than anything else. There were only two more wolves, particularly scrawny and high-legged ones, one might add, which were currently trying to sneak up on his horse – a course of action they would surely come to regret soon.   
  
Elven horses were intelligent creatures, and while most were not as evil as Rashwe, Legolas' horse, they still were more than capable of defending themselves against two small wolves that were trying to snap at their legs. At least for a while, which should give him more than enough time to deal with these overgrown dogs. Aragorn grinned inwardly. Rashwe would have enjoyed ripping those two wolves into pieces and then stomp on them for a while. Even though his new horse wasn't even half as malicious as the elven prince's, it appeared that it was most willing to demonstrate that elven horses, and most definitely _this _elven horse, did not enjoy being snapped at.  
  
Aragorn had lingered in thought a moment too long, something he would later blame on his exhaustion, and the overgrown dog in front of him redirected his attention back to it by jumping forward and snapping at him yet again. This time the man was not quick enough to avoid the gleaming teeth altogether and merely managed to take half a step back, therefore narrowly keeping the wolf away from his throat onto which it would have latched otherwise. Half a step wasn't far enough though, and in the moment he twisted to the side and brought his sword down in a movement that should have cleaved the beast in two the wolf's jaws closed around the ranger's sword arm with a sickening, amazingly audible crack.  
  
White hot agony shot up Aragorn's arm, and his suddenly nerveless fingers opened on their own account to release the hilt of his sword, no matter how much his mind screamed at them not to do it. The pain nearly sent him to his knees, and that was exactly where he found himself only moments later when the wolf, frenzied by the smell and taste of warm human blood, clamped down even harder on its prey's arm and twisted viciously, throwing its head from side to side in order to bring the man down.  
  
Aragorn blinked perplexedly, not having realised he was falling until his knees touched the cold snow. The pain was unbearable; it felt as if his arm was ripped apart, broken into tiny pieces and burned to ash in the same moment, it was so overwhelming that his vision began to blur. The agony in his arm intensified as the wolf continued dragging him forward, but even through that pain the ranger looked into the yellow, gleaming eyes of his attacker and decided that he absolutely _refused _to die like this. In Elbereth's name, he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a Ranger of the North and Heir of Isildur, and he would not be killed by a common wolf that didn't even have the courtesy to be one of Sauron's wargs!  
  
Trying with all his might to ignore the pain in his arm and the sounds of the two other wolves that had apparently noticed his predicament and had decided that eating him was a lot easier than to try and eat his horse, he tore his eyes away from the evilly glinting eyes of the beast and frantically looked around for his sword. His concentration was disrupted however when the ripping teeth tore even deeper into muscles and tendons, and a shocked cry was wrenched from his lips. Valar, he was sure that he had heard the beast's teeth scrape over bone!   
  
Suddenly, even thought the pain did not diminish in the slightest, a burning anger was kindled in his heart, a surprising fury that turned the man's pain-glazed eyes a dark, stormy grey. He would be damned if this bunch of skinny wolves stopped him from coming to his friend's aid! If they killed him now, no-one would help Legolas, and that was something he would _not _allow, not while he was still drawing breath!  
  
Gathering all his strength, Aragorn threw himself forwards, catching the snarling beast that still clung to his arm totally by surprise. The man crashed into the wolf that didn't have any time to react act all, and this time he found himself on top the momentarily stunned animal, much to his satisfaction. His right arm was still caught between the wolf's jaws, but just a moment before the animal could shake off its stunned paralysis or the other two wolves could come too close, Aragorn's left hand closed around the smooth, cool hilt of his sword that lay half-buried in the snow a foot away from them.  
  
There had been few times Aragorn when had enjoyed killed a living being, but this was definitely one of them. He had grasped the sword and brought it up and then down in a matter of less than a second, and another second later he felt to his utmost relief how the teeth around his forearm relaxed, not entirely, but enough for him to wrench his appendage free.  
  
He felt warm blood run down his arm and soak into the shredded remains of his shirt and tunic, but didn't have the time to spare his wound even a glance, because in just that moment the two remaining members of the little pack reached him, appearing only marginally impressed by their companions' fate. Aragorn, however, was not in a mood to be trifled with. He hadn't slept properly for days, was hungry, cold, pressed for time, worried out of his mind for his best friend, his right arm had just very nearly been ripped from his body, his horse had been frightened and almost eaten, and, most of all, he was _angry_. Very, very angry to be precise, and more than willing to spill some blood.  
  
That was something the wolves quickly found out – in addition to the fact that this man could wield his blade most effectively even left-handed. A few seconds later both wolves were missing their heads and Aragorn was leaning heavily on his sword, gasping for breath as the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body subsided. Dark red blood mingled with his as it dropped to the ground, and the man raised his eyes wearily to give his surroundings that resembled a battlefield more than anything else a dark glare.  
  
He had done it again; he had turned a perfectly peaceful journey into a disaster.   
  
With a tired sigh he pulled his inexplicably heavy sword out of the snow and turned around, only to find himself face to face with his horse that looked at him big, soulful eyes. Concern, reproach and annoyance swirled in the animal's brown eyes, and Aragorn decided in a split second that this one looked just like his father, something he would of course never tell the elf.  
  
The man's gaze slowly wandered over the animal's scratched legs, then to the slightly bleeding wounds on its chest and finally to the stained, churned-up snow behind them. Where his horse had defended itself lay the bodies of three wolves, bodies he had missed during the short look he had been able to spare during the battle. Each animal's head was shattered, which in fact explained the dark blood that clung to the black horse's hooves.  
  
Suppressing another sigh, Aragorn ripped a piece of cloth out of his shirt which was ruined anyway, cursorily cleaned his blade of the wolves' blood and sheathed it somewhat stiffly, knowing that he couldn't linger here any longer. It was possible that there were more wolves prowling these woods, and if they were, he felt no desire to be found by them. Besides, he needed to find a safe place where he could look at his and his horse's wounds properly, if possible before the sun had risen completely. She was just beginning to make her way over the horizon, and since he didn't know how close he was to the humans, he really did not want to be caught in the open.  
  
Apart from that, he still didn't feel as if he were safe. It might have been the pain in his arm, of course, or the choking worry for Legolas that still had not abated, or the adrenaline that was still flowing through his veins, but Aragorn was almost able to swear that something or someone was nearing his position – and this time he was quite certain that it was a someone rather than a something. And if he didn't want to wait for more wolves, he definitely did not want to wait for anyone else who might come this way.  
  
Having the distinct feeling that he had no time to spare to hide the signs of the battle, something that would have taken at least an hour in his injured state, Aragorn turned back to his horse, reaching out to pat the animal's neck.  
"Thank you, my friend," he told the large black animal softly. "If not for you, these beasts would surely have ripped out my throat and eaten me for breakfast. I am sorry I couldn't help you sooner."   
  
The horse shook its head in a dismissive gesture and neighed softly, causing the young man to grin broadly even despite the pain that was beginning to spread up into his upper arm as well.   
"Of course, _mellon__ nín_, forgive me; you did not need my aid." Aragorn's eyes travelled once again over the wolves' carcasses as he painfully and slowly mounted his horse. "You need a name, don't you? What about … _Rácatári_? Ráca for short? Would you like that? It is not exactly a name for a beautiful lady such as you, but…"  
  
The horse interrupted his words with a quick shake of its head, and gave him a look that very clearly said that he talked too much.  
  
"Alright," Aragorn laughed through gritted teeth as he quickly wrapped the remaining part of what had once been his right shirt sleeve around his forearm, having decided that heavy blood loss was exactly what he did not need now. Besides, he would leave an easily visible trail if he didn't get the bleeding under control soon; another thing he did not need. "Alright, Ráca it is then."  
  
The newly named horse whinnied shortly and began to trot down the path, careful not to step onto the bodies of the dead wolves, and decided that it had a truly curious master indeed. He was quite amusing actually, much more amusing than its former master who had been a far too busy diplomat. No, this one might be slightly out if his mind, but entertaining nonetheless.  
  
Oblivious to his horse's thoughts, Aragorn pushed the numerous complaints his body brought to his attention to the side and concentrated with all his might on finding another path he could take, a path that might take him to a sheltered place. The feeling that danger was afoot and that he mustn't stay on the road if he valued his or Legolas' life was growing even stronger.  
  
Giving another tired sigh, the young ranger let his eyes wander over the thick shrubbery to both sides of the road in order not to miss even the smallest path. He had learned to trust his feelings, and if they told him to get off the road, off the road he would get.  
  
His feelings were what had got him into this whole trouble in the first place, so it would be only consistent if he followed them again.  
  
++++++++++

  
Reran was not in a very good mood. In fact, he was in an exceptionally bad mood, something that was causing most of his men – at least the more intelligent ones – to avoid him with a purposefulness that was very close to insulting.  
  
The blonde commander did not enjoy being insulted, least of all by his men, but right now he was far too busy cursing all the Gods he knew – and he knew a lot – to care about or even notice the other humans' behaviour. Things had been going so well until now, but it appeared that now their luck had run out.   
  
The man gave an annoyed growl and let his dark gaze wander over the camp, his eyes almost hurting in the bright sunlight. A moment later they came to rest on the part of the camp farthest away from him, and the scowl that seemed to be permanently affixed to his face deepened. There, at the far end of the camp, were the reasons for his bad mood, all lined up neatly, as if having been placed along an invisible line.  
  
First, Reran thought annoyed, there was of course the elf. That their "guest" would cause problems was something he had expected, but, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't believed he could be quite as infuriating. He had never before met a being that could anger him by merely looking at him with an emotionless expression, and still this Lasseg managed to. He was in fact beginning to understand Teonvan – once or twice he had felt the distinctive urge to kill the fair haired being himself, and kill him slowly at that – who was actually his second problem.  
  
Yes, and he was beginning to suspect that this would turn out to be his direst problem yet. There was of course the fact that he loathed the man and would have simply loved to kill him, but more important was that he was beginning to give him more and more trouble. Teonvan was beginning to suffer from delusions of grandeur in his opinion, and was beginning to talk back to him openly – once even in front of the men. Reran grinned darkly. That had been something he had made the other regret quickly of course, but the fact remained. He was still convinced that he could control the younger man, yet it was getting harder and harder the more time passed and the longer Teonvan was prevented from having some "fun" with the elven prisoner.   
  
That was the part about Teonvan that really bothered him. To Teonvan nothing was important but his personal pleasures, not even the mission and the lives of his men, which was something Reran would never tolerate. It was the younger man's first journey under his command and Reran therefore didn't expect him to feel any allegiance or loyalty to him, but every one of their lord's soldiers knew that their first and foremost duty was to their lord and the mission. To endanger that meant to endanger all their lives in foolish recklessness.  
  
All these were things he had known for a long time, but what was really beginning to infuriate him was the younger man's inability to keep away from the prisoner. Reran's face darkened even more as his eyes wandered from the elf to his incompetent and thoroughly loathsome second-in-command. Teonvan was sitting next to one of the small campfires in the company of his two lieutenants (whose names Reran still didn't know) and was shooting their bound captive dark looks.  
  
The human captain shook his head minutely. He really didn't know what was so hard to understand about "Keep your hands off the elf". It were only six little words, and yet Teonvan seemed unable to obey. Yesterday the entire thing had very nearly escalated, something which had filled Reran to equal parts with glee and choking fury. He had been riding at the front of their group and had called Reran to him in order to go over the route they would need to take (he had found out that Teonvan could hardly distinguish between North and South and was therefore exceptionally useless in such matters), something that had taken only a little more than half an hour. After that he had sent his young lieutenant back to the rear, and had needed to stop him from killing one of Teonvan's lieutenants only two minutes later.  
  
Reran gave Teonvan a cold stare which the younger man didn't even seem to notice. It appeared that Teonvan had put the half hour he had had with the prisoner alone to good use, and he and his two useless lieutenants seemed to have done everything but beaten the elf off his horse. It wasn't that he doubted that the elf had deserved it to some degree, but he had given an order, a very _explicit _order that the prisoner was not to be harmed unnecessarily, and most certainly not by his second-in-command.   
  
Be that as it may, when Cendan had returned the elf had been hanging barely conscious on his horse and Teonvan's lieutenant had been busy carving imaginative patterns into the fair haired being's face, much to the joy and amusement of Teonvan and most of the men present. While Cendan did have no great love for the elf, he considered him his responsibility and had therefore done the first thing that had come to his mind when faced with an act of such gross insubordination: He had dragged the man away from the prisoner, had pulled him off his horse and had been in the process of cutting his throat when Reran had got there to prevent it just in time – something the captain secretly lamented. He wouldn't have shed a tear had Cendan killed the other man in the heat of the moment, or if he had continued with Teonvan for that matter.  
  
And if the facts that he was afflicted with an insubordinate, stupid second-in-command and a thoroughly infuriating elven prisoner were not enough, their camp had been attacked by a stray band of orcs some hours ago. At that thought Reran's eyes once again wandered over to the inert body of their prisoner who was sitting in the snow, secured to the sturdy bark of a tree and apparently asleep. It was in fact quite hard to see whether or not he was sleeping since elves apparently didn't close their eyes to visit the realm of dreams, but Reran had the feeling that Lasseg, if that was his real name, was not faking. It was apparent that the little incident yesterday had damaged the elf more than Teonvan or the elf himself wanted to admit, and when one looked at the cuts and bruises that marred the fair being's face and every single inch of exposed skin, it was not hard to see that he was indeed in pain and exhausted.  
  
Reran studied the elf's pale face darkly, noting detachedly how the dark red cuts stood out against the white skin that was only mottled here and there by darkening bruises. Lasseg had of course only coldly informed them that the beasts had been no orcs but goblins, in a condescending, arrogant tone of voice coupled with a glance at them that had spoken of the elf's pity for their thick-wittedness. Sometimes, the man thought, he could indeed understand his second-in-command and his cravings to spill every single drop of the elf's blood, and this had been one of them. Still, he had only allowed Teonvan to hit the elf for his impudence once (well, it might have been twice or thrice) – that was the main difference between the two of them. Reran knew the limits and the meaning of self-restraint, whereas Teonvan did not, curse him.  
  
With an effort, Reran abandoned this train of thought, knowing that he would otherwise spend a considerable part of this day contemplating all of Teonvan's and the elf's faults. The fact remained that they had been attacked by the orcs – or goblins, he did not really care which. Both parties had been taken by surprise, and before he had even known what was happening, one of his men had been dead and another dying. Three more of his men had been injured before they had managed to drive the foul things off, all of which had been assigned to guard the prisoner.   
  
The blonde captain did indeed suspect that the orcs' only reason for attacking a numerically superior force had in fact been the elf and the orcs' infamous hatred for the elven race; that was supported by the fact that the beasts had attacked only the guards once they had caught sight of the fair haired being. They had been able to drive the foul things back before they had been able to come too close to their prisoner, but it had been a near thing. The orcs had finally fled into the darkness, unable to stand up to a group of determined humans who knew that to lose their elven captive to a band of orcs would be their death warrant.   
  
Reran let his eyes wander over the bodies of his two dead men that lay at the far side of the camp, looking like piled up logs even in the bright sunlight. After the excitement had died down a little, Reran had sent his three best scouts after the orcs to make sure that they were in fact only a little band and not part of a larger horde that was simply waiting to ambush them again to get to the elf. That was something he would not allow; he hadn't gone through all this trouble to lose the elf to a bunch of pleasure-seeking goblins.  
  
Reran's thoughts were interrupted when the sound of swiftly moving horses filtered through the leafless trees surrounding their camp on three sides, and he swiftly got up from the fallen tree he had sat on. Walking swiftly to the middle of the camp, he stopped next to one of the fireplaces and didn't even have to open his mouth to order the men sitting around it to leave since they immediately shot to their feet and moved off as quickly as their legs would carry them. A moment later he felt Cendan's quiet presence to his right, and much to his disappointment he saw that Teonvan also stood to his feet and came closer. Reran sighed inwardly. He would have preferred Teonvan to stay where he was, or better yet, to stay where he didn't have to see him, like inside a hungry troll's cave. Or, even better, inside a hungry troll's stomach. In tiny little, ragged, bloody pieces…  
  
Before Reran had time to further dwell on these very attractive images, three horses appeared, passed the guards that stepped aside once they realised that the riders were their companions returning from their scouting mission, and finally came to a stop in front of Reran and his two subordinates. The men dismounted and the leader handed over the reins of his horse to one of his men before stepping closer and giving his three superiors a small bow.  
  
"Sirs."  
  
Reran inclined his head, an impatient expression on his face.   
"You are late."  
  
The other man dropped his eyes, instinctively sensing that his captain was in a very bad mood. This wasn't his first mission under Reran's command, but he somehow had the very bad feeling that it might turn out to be the last.  
"Yes, sir. We encountered some … problems."  
  
"Would you care to specify that?" Reran asked impatiently. All he really wanted to hear was that the orcs would not return and that they could leave. He had told their lord they would arrive in six days, and he did not even need to use his imagination to know what his liege would say if they were late.  
  
The other man did not lift his head to look his superior in the eye; his gaze remained fixed on the snow beneath his feet as he began his report.  
"We followed the orcs as you commanded, sir. They travelled west for a few hours; we found they have their holes in a steep hill there."  
  
"And?" Teonvan asked with an impatient flick of his head, glaring at the man and causing his stringy hair to fly around his head. "Is there a point to this?"  
  
Cendan had to stop his impatiently twitching hands from reaching for his dagger that hung at his side. He had thought it impossible for his anger and contempt to grow anymore, but he had apparently been wrong. How he loathed this man!  
  
"Yes, sir, forgive me," the man ground out between his teeth, apparently filled with much the same feelings. "We decided to check the immediate area, just in case we had missed a bigger horde, when we came upon some curious tracks." He paused for a moment, still not raising his head. "A wolf pack's tracks."  
  
"Wolves?" Reran asked sharply. That would be the very last thing he needed to make this an absolutely perfect day. "Here?"  
  
"No, sir," the other man hurried to clarify. "Several hours away from here, but we decided to follow them just to be certain. We had only tracked them for a few minutes when we came upon them. They were dead, all of seven of them."  
  
Reran frowned, not at all liking the way this was beginning to sound.  
"The orcs slew the whole pack?"  
  
"No, sir," the man repeated softly, for the first time raising his head to meet his captain's eyes. "Orcs had nothing to do with it. We found red blood amongst the other. Whoever slew them was a human – or an elf."  
  
Reran narrowed his eyes, ignoring Teonvan's shocked intake of breath – Cendan had remained as stoic as always, of course. His men knew that he did not tolerate it when they jumped to conclusions easily; the other would have a reason for voicing such a suspicion.   
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"This, sir," the other answered softly and reached for the back of his belt, withdrawing a bundle wrapped in a strip of cloth. He offered it to his captain with a small bow, and added when Reran began to unwrap it, "We found it in the throat of one of the wolves. It appears that whoever killed the beasts was in a hurry and either didn't have the time to remove it or simply forgot about it because of his own injury. He might even have heard us; when we got there the carcasses were still warm."  
  
Reran hardly heard the man's last words, for he had unfolded the cloth and exposed a dagger that had apparently hastily been cleared of blood that still clung here and there to its slightly curved blade. It was a beautiful weapon, well-made, sharp and deadly, but what stunned the man into silence was not the craftsmanship, even though he had rarely seen a more perfect dagger. No, what caused his eyes to nearly bulge out of their sockets was the flowing script that covered the blade, running from hilt to tip in wide, graceful arcs. Reran was anything but a scholar, but even he recognised elven letters when he saw them.  
  
For a moment, the captain did not want to believe what this dagger clearly implicated. How could they have found them? How could the Elves have found them? He had been so careful and there had been absolutely no sign of pursuers until now…  
  
"Sir?" Cendan's voice ripped him out of his frenzied musings. "What are your orders?"  
  
Reran blinked quickly and stared at his lieutenant for several seconds before forcing his shocked brain to start working again.  
"Get him here," he snapped curtly at the dark haired man in front of him. "Now."  
  
Cendan did not need to ask who "he" was and simply nodded and hastened into the direction of their prisoner who had apparently awoken now by the commotion caused by the three riders, for his eyes were completely open now, fixed on his captors with burning, unwavering contempt.   
  
Reran watched the younger man cut Lasseg's bonds, grab the elf's arm and pull him roughly to his feet and turned back to the scout, deciding to ignore the disappointed sparkle in Teonvan's eyes which were fixed on Cendan and the elven prisoner.  
"There was only one and you did not follow him?" he inquired incredulously.   
  
"We did, sir," the man answered, clearly embarrassed for he dropped his eyes yet again. "We … lost his tracks."  
  
"You lost his tracks," Reran repeated blankly. "You are my best scouts and you lose the tracks?"  
  
The other man shifted uncomfortably.  
"He left the road a little east of the point where we found the wolves and we lost his tracks in the forest. Must have been really an elf, sir."  
  
Reran did not answer because in that moment Cendan joined them again, pulling the elven prisoner with him who did not look intimidated at all – which he wasn't. All Legolas was was tired; tired of these people and tired of the situation. There was not a single spot of him that didn't hurt, and yesterday's "incident" was still fresh enough in his mind to remind him of what exactly these people were capable of.  
  
The elf shuddered inwardly at the memory. The cuts on his face still stung, as did his now certainly bruised ribs, but more than the physical discomfort the memory of Teonvan's gleeful face haunted him, even in his uneasy sleep. Still, he thought determinedly, there was no way he would show these people how he felt, or how much he was secretly beginning to fear the moments when Teonvan managed to get his hands on him.  
  
He unconsciously straightened his back and raised a mocking eyebrow, fully aware how much that simple gesture irked his captors.  
"Yes?" he asked sarcastically, giving Reran a small, fake smile.  
  
The human captain might have shown remarkable restraint when dealing with the infuriating elf until now, especially in his own eyes, but his patience and will to put up with him had disintegrated in the past few minutes. With an annoyed growl Reran's hand shot out and grabbed one of the fair haired elf's bound arms, dragging him closer.  
"We might have a visitor, elf," he told him friendly, staring intently into his prisoner's annoyingly calm face. "You don't happen to know anything about it, do you?"  
  
Legolas simply gave the man a cold stare, doing his best to ignore Teonvan's presence of which he was only too aware.   
"No," he said slowly and very deliberately. "No, I do not."  
  
The sudden blow to his face caught him totally by surprise – Reran had been the only person in this camp who had never hit him before. This could not be a good sign. It took him some moments to gain control over the pain, but he raised his head after a few seconds, not even aware of the blood that was beginning to trickle down his face from the reopened cuts in his cheek.  
  
"Do not lie to me, _elf_!" Reran hissed, and suddenly the elven prince understood why these men obeyed their captain without question. They might be loyal to him or even respect him, as he had found out in the past few days, but in the end, they were afraid of him, and he was beginning to realise why. Reran in a fury was not a pretty sight.   
  
The captain dragged him closer until their faces were only inches apart, his eyes wide and filled with anger and … fear?   
"You would better answer me, Lasseg, and truthfully," Reran told the elf, a little bit calmer now. "You will regret it if you do not, believe me."  
  
"I answer only to my king, human; to no other," Legolas told the man coldly, unable to keep the disdain out of his voice. "Certainly not to you."  
  
"Oh?" Reran retorted, eyes darkening as he reached for the wrapped blade he had thrust back into the scout's hands a moment ago. "Is that so?" He grabbed the knife's hilt and held it up into the bright sunlight, turning the glittering blade from side to side in front of the elf's bruised face. "What say you about this, then?"  
  
Legolas stared at the blade in the man's hand, trying very hard not to let any emotions show in his eyes even as his heart started beating twice as fast as it had beforehand. His eyes did not see the knife's beauty, did not see the sparkling metal; all he did see was the small nick in the dagger's hilt and the flowing Sindarin script running over the blade.  
  
_'Gûd dhelu Daedheloth,'_ he read silently, his heart falling straight into his stomach. It was a common enough inscription; especially popular among the Elves of Lórien and Imladris. He had seen this script many times when Aragorn had cleaned the blade that his brothers had brought back for him from one of their visits to their grandparents when the man had still been little more than a child. Elbereth, this was Strider's knife! What had these people done to his friend to get to his dagger?  
  
It was one of the hardest things Legolas had ever done in his life, but he managed to keep his face expressionless and his voice steady when he met Reran's taxing gaze evenly.  
"A beautiful knife. Whom did you steal it, human?"  
  
This time, he wasn't very surprised when Reran's fist hit him just below the eye, causing his head to fly backwards. It hadn't been the politest thing to say, after all.  
  
"I was hoping you could tell me, Lasseg," Reran hissed at the elf who was still shaking his head slightly to get rid of the ringing that seemed to echo through his skull. "Do not play games with me! You know this knife; I know you do! Who is out there? One of your men?"  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes at the man, allowing the fury that filled him to show in the silver-blue orbs.  
"You can hit me all you want," he told the human captain darkly. "That will not change the fact that I cannot answer your questions, even if I wanted to."  
  
"And you do not?" Teonvan's sly voice asked to their left.  
  
"No," Legolas said clearly, with a determined sparkle in his eyes that would have reminded everyone who knew the Elvenking of the golden haired elf. "No, I do not."  
  
For a moment, Reran seemed to be rather tempted to hit him again, but then he appeared to pull himself together with a tremendous effort. By the Gods, he hadn't meant to lose control over himself; somehow this whole situation was beginning to get to him. He knew that the elf was lying, he simply knew it! With Teonvan and this elf grating at his nerves it would only be a matter of time before he snapped and killed one of them. Hopefully it would be Teonvan, he added after a moment.  
  
He turned back to the scout who had done his best to become invisible in the past minutes.  
"Get yourself and your men fresh horses and prepare to leave in ten minutes."  
  
The man bowed low to his commanding officers and turned on the heel, disappearing into the direction of the horses and already calling for his two companions. Reran turned back to his two subordinates and gave the elf whose arm he was still grasping a hard shove in Cendan's direction, almost causing the fair being to stumble. He turned to Teonvan and gave him a curt nod.  
"I will leave the camp in your hands."  
  
A brilliant smile spread on Teonvan's face, and not even Cendan seemed to be able to remain stoic this time, for an expression of quickly disguised disbelief flittered over his features as he took hold of the elf's arm.  
"Yes, sir," Teonvan grinned and gave the captain a small nod. "Of course, sir."  
  
Reran's eyes narrowed in annoyance and he took a step closer to his second-in-command as he locked eyes with the younger man.  
"I said I'd leave the camp in your hands, Teonvan," he stated in a low voice, "But I'll leave the elf in Cendan's. He'd better be in no worse shape than now, or you'll regret it dearly. Understood?"  
  
A rebellious sparkle appeared in the commander's eyes, only to be crushed as quickly as it had come.  
"Yes, sir," Teonvan stated flatly.   
  
"I hope so," Reran said darkly and gave him another nod. "I seriously hope so, for your sake, Teonvan. You are dismissed."  
  
The brown haired man returned the nod and turned on his heel, striding off into the direction of his two lieutenants, anger and resentment rolling off his shoulders in waves. Legolas swallowed reflexively, a sudden, thoroughly unwelcome stab of fear going through his heart. If Reran really believed that Teonvan would heed his orders, he was a fool. Then again, he thought darkly, eyes still fixed on the human's retreating back, it just might be that Reran simply didn't care anymore, not after the things he, Legolas, had just thrown into his face.  
  
Cendan seemed to be filled with the same disbelief, for he turned to his captain imploringly, the captive whose arm he was still gripping completely forgotten.  
"But, sir!" he hissed. "How long will you be gone? You cannot be serious!"  
  
Reran turned back to his lieutenant, something that looked almost like pity shining in his eyes. He didn't envy Cendan's position in the slightest.  
"Because I am the only one who could find our 'visitor's' tracks, you know that, Cendan. These idiots here couldn't find a trail if it were painted in red on the ground."  
  
The younger man ground his teeth, knowing that to be true. Reran was the best tracker here; if there was anyone who could track this elusive elf, it was him. That didn't change his feelings about this in the slightest, of course.  
"This is a mistake, sir! Far be it from my mind to question your orders, but…"  
  
"Then don't," Reran advised his subordinate curtly. "I am not in the mood to discuss anything with you, least of all my orders. Do as you're told. We'll be back this evening either way. Or," he added, "do you have a problem with that?"  
  
"No, sir. No problem," Cendan replied quickly, his eyes fixed on Reran's left shoulder. "We'll be awaiting your return."  
  
"Good," the captain nodded and let his eyes briefly rest on the elf who didn't even pretend he had not been listening to their conversation. "Let's see if we can find that friend of yours, eh, Lasseg? You know, the one you know nothing about? If he's here, I'll find him, and he'll wish the wolves had eaten him after all."  
  
Legolas merely looked at the human captain, his eyes managing to look both burning and cold as a freezing pool in mid-winter. He should have known that he would not be believed when he claimed that he didn't know the dagger, and ... had this man just mentioned wolves? Wolves and Aragorn were a combination he really did not want to think about…   
  
He had known that the ranger would come and find him, and a part of him was still singing with joy, but the incomparably larger part of him was filled with all-defining worry. How had Estel found him? Was he really alone? Had the wolves injured his friend? How badly had he been hurt? What could have caused Aragorn to leave his blade behind?  
  
The elven prince blinked when he realised that Reran was still waiting for an answer, and he narrowed his eyes, the silver-blue orbs darkening even further.  
"You will never track him," he stated coldly, hoping with all his heart that he was speaking the truth. "Take all your scouts with you or none – it will avail nothing. You are just a human. How could _you _find him?"  
  
This time, it was Cendan who hit him, therefore foiling his plan to roll with the blow. He had expected Reran to strike him and had therefore been prepared for a blow from the left, not the right. Well, he thought dazedly, tasting the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, there was always next time.  
  
Reran simply smiled at him once he had managed to raise his head again – something that was becoming increasingly difficult – and it was the sort of smile that did nothing to put the elf's heart at ease.  
"We'll see about that, elf," he said curtly, already turning on his heel and walking over to the three scouts who were waiting with their horses at the far end of the camp, ready to set out. "We found you and your friends, did we not?"  
  
"A singular event, believe me," Legolas said darkly, trying to ignore the pain and fear for his friends that once again awoke in his heart at the man's words. "Do not trust in fortune to aid you a second time, human. It would be the last thing you ever do."  
  
Reran had already passed out of earshot and showed no indication that he had heard him, and so it was Cendan's voice that spoke next while the young man was dragging the elf back to the tree he had been bound to last night.  
"What could a single elf do against us anyway?" he snorted, his thoughts already miles away.   
  
He gave the four horses that were leaving the camp right now a short glance while he was securing the prisoner once again to the dark tree. He had the distinct feeling that Reran was making a mistake, and a grave mistake at that. Teonvan wouldn't heed their captain's orders, and if the other man really set his mind to having some "fun" with the elf, there was little he could do to stop him. True, most of the men didn't like Teonvan more than your average mountain goblin or an especially contagious disease, but they liked the elf even less. No-one who had killed seven of their comrades could expect anything but hatred and spite. They would not help him to keep Teonvan away from the captive, and if the other man gave him a direct order he would not be able to disobey it…  
  
Cendan shook his head and secured the last knot, looking up to meet the flinty, hard eyes of the elf who, if he was frightened by the prospect of spending the next hours in a camp under Teonvan's command, was hiding his emotions most admirably indeed.  
  
"What could a single elf do against you?" Legolas repeated softly, in a tone of voice that appeared like steel despite its calmness. "Wait but a few hours, Cendan, and you will find out, though I fear that you will never get the chance to admit your error of judgement."   
  
For a moment, Cendan's fierce temper flashed to life in his eyes before he regained control of himself. Let Teonvan have his way, the man thought darkly. It would serve this one right. Cendan glared at the elf as he stood to his feet, annoyance plain to see on his face.  
"Sometimes, elf," he hissed before turning on his heel and walking off, "Sometimes I can almost understand Teonvan."  
  
Of course, Legolas thought sourly, very anxious to keep his thoughts off his momentary situation. That was something quite a lot people were saying lately. They all seemed to "almost understand" Teonvan – why, that was beyond the elven prince's ability to understand. He leaned back against the dark bark at his back, his eyes straying unconsciously to the brown haired commander who was standing a few dozen feet away from him, apparently deep in conversation with his two lieutenants.   
  
The fair haired elf felt how his mouth went dry as the man seemed to sense his gaze and turned his head to give him a false, gleeful smile. One didn't need to possess the gift of foresight to know that this was not a good sign. In fact, one only needed half a brain to understand that it was a bad sign, to be more precise, the worst sign imaginable.  
  
He did not doubt that Teonvan was already planning something he didn't even want to know about, even though he would, equally undoubtedly, find out. And what if he had been wrong, what if Reran and his men _did _manage to track Aragorn? Despite of what he had told Cendan he was only too keenly aware that Aragorn was in fact not one of the Firstborn; what if they managed to find the ranger's trail? What if they captured him too, what if Teonvan somehow got his hands on his friend?  
  
What was left of the prince's composure instantly evaporated, and suddenly the pain of every single cut, bruise, welt and other injury he had sustained at the human commander's hands – and there were quite a lot – seemed to multiply, causing him to bite down hard on his lip to stifle the moan of pain that rose inside of him. O Elbereth, he thought frantically, anything but that! There was absolutely no way he would allow Teonvan to lay even a single finger on Aragorn, not while he still breathed!  
  
The elf's thoughts were beginning to go in circles, faster and faster and becoming more worried the more time passed. What had happened to Aragorn? Why had he left his dagger? Why in the name of the One was he not at the palace? Legolas ground his teeth as he forced himself to stop panicking. It was not an easy task, since he knew that the men obviously needed him and wouldn't kill him until they had reached their home, but they didn't need Strider. Reran didn't strike him as the sort of man who carried extra-luggage with him, especially extra-luggage that might pose a threat to his mission. No, Legolas decided with more than a little trepidation, Reran would kill the ranger rather than take him with him. The human captain might even allow Teonvan to kill him, that would solve two of his problems at once…   
  
The slowly spreading panic inside Legolas' chest began to grow, fuelled by his maddening helplessness. There was nothing he could do to change anything, nothing at all, all he could do was sit here, hope that Estel had enough sense to stay away and wait for Teonvan to make the first move. Fear began to circle his heart like a pack of wargs their prey and joined the barely suppressed panic and worry for his friend that filled his entire being. Only a fool would not be afraid of what Teonvan might come up with, and Legolas was anything but. Still, if Reran somehow managed to capture his friend and Teonvan…  
  
His thoughts continued in that direction for quite some time, until in the afternoon, a few hours after Reran and the others had left, the camp began to stir. The men were amassing at the other side of the camp, most of them looking disconcertingly gleeful, even though there were a few who looked reluctant and even angry, including Legolas' guards and Cendan whose expression couldn't even be called angry anymore. The only terms that seemed to fit, Legolas thought detachedly, were "overcome with fury" and "incredibly disgusted".   
  
A moment later, Teonvan stepped out of the men's midst and began to strut over to him, and when Legolas looked into his eyes and saw the sparkle of anticipation in the man's dark orbs, a part of him was almost glad that it was directed so exclusively at him.  
  


  
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**TBC...  
  
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_mellon__ nín - my friend  
Rácatári (Quenya) - 'Wolf-queen'  
Gûd dhelu Daedheloth - Deadly foe of the Great-Fear (i.e. Morgoth's Realm)  
  
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_**Yes, as I promised you, there will be your much-awaited elf torture next chapter, don't worry. *shakes head* You guys are even worse than I am, and that means quite a lot in my opinion. *g* So, we have that, a little bit of the twins and Celylith and of course Aragorn who once again does something incredibly ... stupid. *g* All that and more on Sunday or Mon... oh, whom am I kidding anyway? The next chapter will be here** **on Monday, I'm sorry, but I'm too busy right now to make it any sooner. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, cherished and loved. *g***  
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
Iverson** - Well, it's a Hollywood movie so Tom Cruise had to be the survivor. It would have been too unpredictable otherwise, right? *g* Don't worry about reviewing on time, it's not important. I know how very irritating Real Life can be. *g* And I guess you're right, the twins are NOT happy right now. And I am not giving anyone evil looks, I don't even know how to do that! I am a very kind person! *evil grin* I am of course glad that you liked the evil lord. I love him, but I love all my villains so I might be slightly biased. *g* So the evil dude is like a Marine out of an army commercial? I have to say that I've never seen one and we don't have things like army commercials here, so I'll take your word for it. Thank you for your compliment, and I am very happy to hear that I manage to distract you from your work. It might be highly unproductive, but it makes me happy. *sighs* I know, I'm insane. Don't tell me.  
**Alisha** **B** - LOL, yes, that would be what Legolas would do! *g* And hey! Are you suggesting that Celylith ... and the twins ... evil person, you! It was a matter of speech, nothing else! *g* But I'm glad the little mental picture 'amused' you if nothing else! *blinks* Aragorn's head in a box - alright. I see. You're sure you're still normal, aren't you? And I agree: Sleep is the best thing ever! I love sleeping! Hmm, about the snow... Let's just assume that there's lots on the ground. There might be some wind though since it's a snowstorm (Well, Duh, I'm stupid! *g*), so it might blow the snow all over place, yes. LOL, you're right, only evil people or creatures have yellowish eyes. And you don't read too much into it, but you probably SHOULD wait. Just a little bit longer, of course. *g*  
**Gwyn** - *confused* Who is adorable? They're all adorable - most of them anyway. Not Teonvan, of course, even though in an evil, twisted sort of way he probably IS adorable. *g* I kinda like him. I know, don't say it. I'm sick.  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - *g* Up to his ears and still sinking? You could say that... LOL, sinking like a mûmakil in a sandpit? Did anyone ever tell you that you're evil? Very evil? I guess so... The idea of a bald Glorfindel is quite interesting though. I am already planning a fic where Legolas' hair gets cut or dyed (which would probably give him a heart attack *g*), so I could put him into that. And don't encourage Thranduil, or he might heed your advice and really hang himself from a tall structure. That would be bad. Plus, it would make Legolas unhappy - but then again, the dwarves would be ecstatic. *evil grin* Hmmm....  
**Firnsarnien** - Uhm, yes, I did have to stop there. I wanted to keep writing but I couldn't. There was this big elven warrior who appeared out of nowhere and dragged me away from the computer, honestly! *g* And I don't do deals. Well, yes, I do, but not those ones. People always want more angst or more pain or more whatever and blame me for violating our deal. *shakes head* You and your tender lovin' care. You're obsessed, did you know that? Yup, I guess you did. And I know you're bloodthirsty. I don't say that you're the worst of the lot, but... *trails off* Whatever, you're bad. *g*  
**Elenillor** - Thank you! I hope you're going to enjoy the rest as well - if you're ever going to catch up, of course. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Mouse 5** - Oh yes, I DO love the mysterious evil dude thing. Who doesn't? I love writing them - they're so ... so ... so cool, I don't know what else to say. *g* *blinks quickly* Uhm, the twins, Celylith and Glorfy will do ... no, they wouldn't ... how the heck did you know? Am I that predictable? Are you psychic? *shakes her* Tell me!  
**XsilicaX** - *huggles her* Thank you! So many reviews just for me! *huggles her again* Thanks!! I doubt I have enough space here to reply to all of them, but I'll try nonetheless - I guess I'm just as stubborn and stupid as Estel... *g* You're right of course. It would be pretty funny if nothing happened to them only one time they go somewhere without getting themselves into deadly peril. *g* And you're what? BEGINNING to become FOND of Glorfindel? Hello? Wake up! You are completely obsessed! And I am of course very sorry that you don't like my cliffies. I will try to ... heck, no! I LOVE cliffies! Mhahahahaahah! *evil laugh* Thanks for your help with the typos/grammar and so on. Half of the mistakes are really just typos or stupid things I know better, but the rest are things I will never learn, I fear. I'm too stupid. *sobs* And I agree. A story about a sick Elrond would be rather nice. *sighs* When is your birthday? I could throw in a wounded Glorfindel as well and you'd be happy. I have picked up the habit up giving people birthday stories, I'm already planning one for Marbienl. *sighs again* I don't know what possessed me either. And no, I don't get put to bed when I have a cold. It's different when I have a really bad flu though. I always thought that Aragorn would get put to bed because he's human and they're elven healers. They don't have much experience with human illnesses, so it's "better safe than sorry", I guess. *g* Oh, and I am sorry for killing Galalith, but it was necessary, really. It was why I started writing this whole thing in the first place; you'll understand eventually, don't worry. I nnow I'm not making very much sense right now. *g* LOL, so I'm not allowed to kill Celylith or Erelas, but I'm allowed to kill Celythramir? Now that's not fair! I'm rather sure Celylith won't be so happy to hear you say that... *g* And I know you like Glorfindel owies. You're not the first to demand some, btw, I have already promised Sabercrazy some, so, yes. There will be some. *evil grin* As I said in the A/N: How did you know about the wolves? I know, it's more or less obvious, but... *trails off* I've become predictable. Well, be that as it may, thank you! *huggles* It's great to have you back, and thanks so much for all the reviews! *huggles again*  
**Bailey** - Yes, of course Celylith and the twins will find out what has happened to Legolas and Aragorn. And Aragorn is being what? Goofy? What exactly is that supposed to mean? I mean, yes, he put his fingers into the fire pit, but he was ... well, distracted? Uhm, worried? Not goofy! Aragorn: Exactly! Rangers are not goofy! And you couldn't sic Glamir on me, he's my OC. He does whatever I tell him. *g*_  
_**Mystic Girl1** - Versteh' ich doch vollkommen. Das echte Leben hat diese dumme Angewohnheit Aufmerksamkeit zu verlangen, und je laenger man es ignoriert, desto mehr aergert es einen. Und ich glaube, es hat niemanden ueberrascht, dass Aragorn Legolas verfolgt hat. Er ist nun mal ein dummer, sturkoepfiger Ranger, ne? *g* Es ehrt mich natuerlich, dass du meine Finsterlinge magst. Ich mag sie doch auch. *knuddelt Finsterlinge* LOL, Glofindel tut was? Thranduil mit einem Balrog verwechseln? Ich weiss ja nicht ... ist die Aehnlichkeit wirklich so verblueffend? Ach, und: Ich liebe das Wort Katastrophenkommando. *g* Toll.  
**Bookworm****, .303** - *g* Don't worry, you didn't offend me. I was joking. I am very much un-offended. *g* But I absolutely refuse to admit that it's my fault. It's either yours (= the readers') or the characters' fault. Take your pick. *g* And I remember you! Cara ... yes, I think there were some reviews earlier.... It's insane; I cannot remember names at all, but I can remember almost all my reviewers' names. I need help. *g* And I inspired you? Whoah, that's flattering - and alarming. I didn't mean to encourage anyone to anything! *innocent expression as she looks at characters* Really!   
**Forever Unstoppable** - Yeah, lots of people missed Legolas. But he's back *huggles him* and won't go anywhere in the near future either. Lucky him - or not... And yes, you have to wait for another chapter, sorry about that. You'll manage. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Strider's Girl** - I honestly don't know how anyone could think that they're elves. I mean, elves don't have yellowish eyes, do they? And even if they did, they would have dragged Aragorn off his horse and would have brought him back to Mirkwood so their king could kill him. I don't think they would have followed him. And there aren't many elves East of Mirkwood except Mirkwood elves. So: No elves. Sorry. But it was meant to be confusing, don't worry.  
**Rabbit of Iron** - *looks at her room* Nope, not a cave. Not really, at least. After your little incredulous outburst I looked it up on the internet, and after having read several summaries and reviews (all positive, btw) I see why I've never heard of it. A. It's not the kind of movie I like. I don't even like Mary Poppins. I just don't like musicals. B. It's older than thirty years. I know very few movies older than that. Except things like Casablanca and Hellzapoppin. Do you know Hellzapoppin? Now THAT'S a great movie! *g* C. It's not something you would see on TV here just like that. You probably know that it was forbidden in Germany in the sixties and seventies because of some of the Nazi scenes? *leans closer and whispers* That's where I live. They show it now, but I doubt it has such a large fanbase here. 

**Narina**** Nightfall** - *blinks* Congrats - I guess? You're the keeper of Galadriel's mirror? Well, I guess it's a very ... responsible post... *g* And I'm glad the mirror doesn't show where this is going - not even I know, so why should that bloody mirror know? I promise that I'll try and read your fanfic, but right now I really don't have the time. Technically speaking I don't have the time to write this story, but as soon as everything calms down I promise I will read and reviw, of course. Deal? *g* Writing on peoples' heads isn't nice? Why did no-one tell me?! It's so much fun! Uhm, yes, we met Erelas in chapter ... 9, I think, he's the one who brought the fur, and no, the advisor doesn't have a name. I was afraid of giving him one since the poor elf woulf probably be getting hate mail by now. Uhm, and yes. There are ill-tempered dragons. Just remember that one chapter in The Hobbit , what's its name, "Inside Information"? But I think there was no smoke coming out of his ears, he merely ate the party's ponies. Sorry, but I haven't read that book, or heard of it either. It's good then? I probably do need help since Teonvan IS twisted and slimy, but Lasseg is Sindarin, I'm afraid. Add "-eg" to (almost) any noun and you have the diminutive form. Hmm, there are other foul creatures in Mirkwood, for example evil bats. *g* Don't look at me like that, it's in The Hobbit. Not to mention several other things Morgoth created. And I really think you're deceiveing yourself. Elrohir is just as bad as Elladan. You have a little obsession with him, did you know that? Yeah, I guess you did, but I thought I'd say it nonetheless. Oh, and Elrohir would never torture me, he's too smart for that. Besides, I wouldn't tell him anything about the plot anyway. *g* Yay! You're right! Good guess! *shakes her hand* Well done! Thank you very much for the three huge reviews! *huggles*

**Red Tigress** - LOL, great you liked the horse. It is kinda cute, true. And don't worry, I'm rather sure that Celylith will eventually come up with a way to avenge his poor, defenceless bow. The twins better look out. *evil grin*  
**Dha****-Gal** - Well, I guess you could say that. They're not overly nice at least. *g* *reads review with wide eyes* Well ... I would be lying if I said that I completely understood what you and all these people were talking about, so I won't say anything. It's ... very interesting, that's what it is. You have a Reviewing Office? Well, that's professional if nothing else... *g*  
**Elvendancer** - *g* Well, then I'll try to update AND make sense at the same time, what about that? Hmm, I like HP as well, but, well, Ms. Rowlings just isn't a professor of linguistics, is she? It just doesn't sound as well, and Tolkien was a genius anyway. *g* But I still like the books.  
**Iavala** - *bows* Thank you! It's great to hear that you like all my weird stories, and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest of this one as well! Thanks a lot for taking the time to review, I really LOVE reviews!  
**Ellyrianna** - *rubs it in* Yup, it's been a while. I missed you. I spent whole days crying in my room because I thought you didn't like me anymore... *g* J/k. I know that you are busy. And your birthday is on the 30th? I won't say Happy Birthday now since it's going to bring you bad luck (that's what people here believe, anyway), but I hope that you have a great day and get lots of wonderful presents! And I hope it's enough elf/ranger angst in here to make you happy. I doubt it though... *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Uhm, yes. It would be a bit early for Gollum. *g* And I agree: Celylith does need a holiday. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to go to Mordor for a while - can't be worse than Mirkwood right now, eh? *g* I hope both your exams went well, and thanks a lot for taking the time to review nonetheless! *huggles*  
**Liin**** Sivi** - LOL, yes, it would have been rather strange for Thranduil to threaten some poor messenger with torture, even if he were having an especially bad day. *g* Well, perhaps if it were one of Elrond's messengers. *blushes* Well, it's very flattering that you like my writing so much, even though there are lots of fics out there that are better than mine by far. *g* Thanks nonetheless!  
**Amelie** - Well, I'm very happy to hear that your mom didn't make you eat rocks. That would have been disconcerting. *g* It would be quite interesting if Celylith got a heart attack though - he'd be the first elf to get one, that's for sure. And yes, your reviews are slightly weird, and so are your conversations if you really talk about things like that. *g* Proving once again that we're all insane here. *grins insanely* See?  
**Critternut** - Nope, we can't have it all. Not all the time, anyway. *g* *sighs tiredly* No, no leg injuries, at least not in the near future. Okay? Okay. So you heard the music when Glamir's name was mentioned, huh? Well done! *g* And yes, Estel finally found something, we're all very proud of him. *pats his head*  
**Nikara** - Oh, I know. January is always incredibly busy, I don't know why either. Another one of these evil laws of nature, I guess. And yes, there will be some Aragorn injuries as well, I would never neglect him. That would be very unfair. *evil grin*   
**Calenore** - LOL, it would really scare me if your boss were anything like our dear evil lord at the beginning. In that case you really ought to get another job. *g* And now that you mention it, that could create a little problem. I mean, if Celylith wanted to put the twins into a snow drift without clothes and Legolas wanted to glue their clothes to their bodies - what would they do then? It would be a tough choice for them, I'm sure... *g*  
**Snow-Glory** - Uhm, yes, Aragorn will make it to Legolas, but before the shadowy things make an appearance - hmm, read on and you'll find out. But hey: What do you think? What would be more fun? *g* I know, I'm evil.   
**Orlandofan13** - Well, it's alright to write about a girl character, as long as Legolas doesn't fall in love with her. I guess I haven't read a story yet in which that happens and which wasn't a Mary-Sue. There is a very good Mary-Sue checklist though, and it's wonderful. Let me I hope this link doesn't disappear, they sometimes do. It's really great though. *g*  
**Just Jordy** - Thank you! I am very glad of course that you liked the last chapter, it's always nice to know that I'm not disappointing people. The twins won't be in every chapter from now on though, I simply don't have the time. *grins sheepishly* Sorry.  
**Alilacia** - I hope your computer is alright now - stupid, of course it's alright, otherwise you wouldn't have written that last review. Sorry, I'm not really thinking today, I mean, today I am thinking even less than usual. I know, it's scary. *g* You're using the Dragonflame dictionary, huh? It's good, but not perfect. They don't have many pre- or suffixes, but then again I guess that's more grammar. *g* And yes, something is going to happen to Glorfindel, eventually. Not for a very long time though, sorry to disappoint you. I hope you don't have to work too many night shifts anymore, they can really begin to annoy you.   
**Emerilian** - *waves back* Great that you like it! The grey shadowy figures most certainly make an appearance in this chapter - would be boring otherwise, right? Thanks a lot for the review - I really, really love them. *grins insanely*  
**Firniswin** - LOL, yeah, I wouldn't be able to see a thing either. If you aren't Númenórean or an elf, you're really at a disadvantage. *shakes head* Life is unfair. *sighs tiredly* Yes, there will be some Aragorn angst/pain. You people are really bloodthirsty. And rather insane. *g*  
**Karone**** Evertree** - Uhm, fangirls. The grey shadowy things are fangirls - we all know how vicious they can be... *g* And why do you think that? I think Celythramir would be delighted if Celylith wanted to go looking for Legolas and get himself into almost certain deadly peril - what? Don't you think so? *innocent smile*  
**Sirithiliel** - Don't worry, the review wasn't late. It was on time and wonderful, thanks! Great you liked it, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well!  
**Zam** - LOL, it is indeed unbelievable! You don't have much to say? *worriedly* Are you alright? You're not ill or anything? *g* They're doing what? Playing Twister? First the orc horde with Trivial Pursuit and now they with Twister - you really own strange people, did you know that? You know what? They're right! Maybe Glamir needs an assistant! He could do the real torture and then you could come in and annoy them to death! *pats KotD on the back* Well done! It's of course always nice to see that Celythramir likes you so much - even though I have to agree with Celylith: It is slightly scary. LOL, Tilion is what? A stalker? Well, that is an interesting way to see it... *looks at Zam who is currently shaking the poor author* Uhm, okay. Rashwe is alright. I promise. Really! *smiles innocently*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Oh, I know what you mean. Every time we move - and we're moving quite a lot - they don't manage to provide internet access on time. Why is that, I ask you? Why?? *calms down* Sorry, it's just very annoying. And yeah, I thought about the fangirls, but decided that it'd be too cruel. *g*  
**Cestari** - Uhm, don't worry. *pats her back carefully* It's alright. We all have busy lives - have you ever thought about getting yourself another email address? That would be easiest, wouldn't it? Just an idea. *shrugs* I like your equation btw. Very true. *shakes head sadly* The two of them are a walking disaster. Or, more often than not, a non-walking disaster. *g* And don't worry, I don't let myself be pressured, it's just a handy excuse. It's my story, MINE! My own! My precious! *g*  
**Marbienl** - I honestly don't know yet. The who-is-going-to-kill-whom-question is usually decided in the last few chapters, so, it's still a long time. And I'm afraid that I won't let anyone kill anyone because it would given them a boost of self-confidence. *shakes head* Really... Wait a moment, you've never heard of Kathy Reichs? She's not German, she's an American author, and writes about the best thrillers I know. Her first book was either "Dejà Dead" or "Death du Jour", I think. Go and read her books. She's great and WAY better than Patricia Cornwell. *blinks* The ideas you get - how in the name of God should someone who is not a Maia or something like that manage to put his mind into someone else's body? It's far easier, and I really don't do things like that. I like to keep everything 'realistic', which sounds rather strange in this universe... *g* *blinks again* You and your nightmares. I really think that Estel is a little too busy at the moment (and in future chapters) to have nightmares, sorry. Congrats, you guessed what the shadows were, and my plot bunnies aren't even bunnies. They're - I don't know. No bunnies though.  
**Crytal-Rose15** - *blinks* Those scenes were sad? Really? Uhm, as long as you liked them.... *evil grin* Well, if you like dark humour, you're just right here - but you know that already, I guess. Great you liked this chapter! *huggles* Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!  
**Suzi** - You do realise that, every time I read that you're going back home, I become intensely jealous. You have no idea how lucky you are to be able to go back up North so often... *dreamy expression* I would love to do that... I don't understand though why you had to go looking for the map - hte link should have worked! *glares at Netscape* It hates me, I swear it does. The surrounding text wasn't so interesting either, just about who made camp where during which campaign, things like that, you know, Drusus, Tiberius, Germanicus and all the other nice people. *g* And the pic is great! I mean it, really great! I have never managed to figure out Adobe - I'm simply too stupid to figure out anything having to do with photos. I'm hopeless, I know. *whines* Make another one! Please!!  
**Carrie** - *is very much impressed* History Masters, huh? That's what I hope to get myself one day - or something that comes close to it. Perhaps it's even the same, I think we have different systems, but then again, it's called M.A. (Magister Artium) here is well. We don't do Bachelors though, you do five years and get the MA in the end - or not. *g* So, I'm very much impressed. *g* Adruran, however, won't turn up, sorry. They will find out where Reran and his friends come from though. You're having eye surgery? EEk! Good luck!   
**Starlight** - Ja, Aragorn ist wieder da. *knuddelt ihn* Ich koennte ihn doch nicht einfach so links liegen lassen! *g* LOL, das mit dem Schild ist gar nicht mal so weit hergeholt. 'Kostenloses Frischfleisch' wuerde eine Menge erklaeren, wenn man mal darueber nachdenkt... Du bist auch so einer von diesen blutruenstigen Typen, huh? Keine Angst, elf angst/torture was auch immer ist auf dem Weg. *g* Hast du auch 'ne Voodoo-Puppe? Wirkt klasse, 'ne? *g*  
**Leggylover03** - Hmmm, let me see. Will Thranduil find them? That would be a No. Will Estel find Legolas soon? Yes. Will they suffer? Depends on your definition. Knowing your definition, Aragorn probably won't. Are the twins going to join the hunt? What do you think? *g* That were quite a few answers! *g*  
**Sabercrazy** - LOL, your lightsaber is PURPLE? You know, I still think that the colour ruined the whole 'I'm a threatening Jedi give yourself up Tyranus'-routine for Mace Windu. I mean, purple? What was he THINKING? *g* Great you two have worked out your differences though. *g* LOL, the twins take danger out for drinks and a movie? I don't know why, but I simply fell out of my chair when I read that. Soo funny... *g* And you're right: The two of them are remarkably predictable. It's almost sad, isn't it?  
**Salara** - Was, du magst keine Riesenspinnen? Kann ich ueberhaupt nicht verstehen - sie sind doch so richtig knuddelig... *schaudert* Ich gebe zu, ich versteh' den lieben Celylith da auch nicht. Und okay, du hat recht. Celylith hat 'nen kleinen Tick mit seinem Bogen - aber er ist nun mal ein dummer Walbelb. Die spinnen alle. *g* Und ich muss aufs Schaerfste protestieren! Es sind nicht die Regeln "meiner" Kunst, es sind, uhm, nun ja, _Teonvans_. Er ist nun mal ein Fiesling, das ist nicht meine Schuld. *unschuldiges Laecheln* Und auf meiner Reihenfolge rangiert der Gute auch ziemlich weit vorne! Eigentlich ganz vorne, gefolgt von den Zwillingen, Elrond, Fëanor und Legolas. In dieser Reihenfolge. *g* Ist toll, dass du dich "baerig" freust - fuer dieses Wort muss ich dich einfach knuddeln! *knuddelt sie* So, schon fertig, keine Angst. *g* Danke sehr fuer die riesenlange, tolle Review!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Oh, the THING! Now I know what you mean, we have one like that too. It's amazing, isn't it, give it a few socks a week and it's quite nice! I think I'll take that hiding place in your basement, but only if the thing _stays_ in your sister's room. Deal? I'll tell Legolas that you liked his new name, though. *g*  
  
***dons winter clothes* Bye! I'm off to get myself into trouble! If I don't update on time, I'm in the hospital undergoing emergency surgery! *****g* Wish me luck!**  
  



	15. A Darkness Felt

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
**  
  
A/N:  
  
*limps in, in full-body cast, sporting several gruesome injuries* Yeah, thanks for the concern. Sledding was great, that was, great until that evil, sneaky, vicious tree decided to jump right in front of my sled. In a way, I am relieved** **it did though, because it once again proves what I've known for a long time: The Valar hate me. *g* No, wait a second, they hate _Legolas_ - ah, whatever. *grins broadly* J/k, I'm fine. Since it was already dark and very late there were no annoying little children we had to look out for, so we had indeed lots of fun, and no-one got hurt - badly. *g*  
  
There is one common misunderstanding floating around here, so I thought I'd use the opportunity to cause some more confusion. *evil grin* Most of the people here seem to think that the twins and Celylith will come to our intrepid duo's rescue - why is that? I mean, there are many other possibilities to consider here, and most of them are _way_ more fun than allowing two Noldor, a (presumably) Vanya and a Silvan elf to come to our heroes' aid in the last minute. Just think about it. *g* Confused yet? Yes? Good. *evil grin*  
  
I have also noted with some concern that I got a disturbing amount of reviews saying essentially "Yes! Hurt Aragorn, hurt Legolas, hurt them, hurt them, hurt them!!!". This has gone on long enough now. I have to state that I do _not_ enjoy writing torture, that I _am_ a nice kind of person who enjoys fluffy H/C scenes and that all people who say otherwise must confuse me with my _alter ego_, which is, admittedly, a comprehensible mistake. *smiles innocently* Okay, now that that's clear, I also have to announce that this is the first chapter with a PG-13 rating, at least that's what I think. So, twelve year olds and younger: Off to bed, you should be sleeping anyway. Shoo! *g***  
  
**I can almost see how most of you are twitching impatiently already, so I'll shut up. *readers cheer* Now, that wasn't very nice. *pouts* Whatever, yes, here is the elf torture you so desperately wanted, we see that Teonvan is indeed able to reason with others if it gets him what he wants, we see a little more of the twins and Celylith, and, as advertised, Aragorn does something incredibly ... stupid. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please! **  
  


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Chapter 15  
  
A few moments later, Teonvan stopped in front of his captive, the biggest and most self-satisfied smirk on his shallow, yellowish face that Legolas had ever seen. Not even an orc who was about to kill an elf looked that smug, the prince decided with the detachment that only impending doom could bring, and orcs weren't exactly known for their restraint.  
  
Indeed, Legolas decided while he was smiling at Teonvan whose face was beginning to fall at his prisoner's outward dispassionateness. Now that he thought about it, Teonvan shared quite a few character traits with orcs – no, make that a lot. He even looked a bit like an orc; if one took away most of the hair and added a pair of pointed ears, the resemblance was indeed astounding…  
  
Teonvan's grin that had faltered a little grew again as he stared at the elf, a warm, gleeful feeling spreading through his entire body. Finally, after all these days of waiting he had the chance to teach this one a lesson…  
  
"So," he said pleasantly. "We're finally alone, elf."  
  
Legolas gritted his teeth and pushed the fear that beginning to envelop him to the back of his mind. If this was going to happen, he could at least tell this man a few things he had been waiting to say for a long time.  
  
"It is as I thought," he stated slowly, as if voicing something he had been thinking about for some time. "You cannot even count. To stand in a clearing with fifteen other people is not exactly what a normal person would consider 'alone'."  
  
It came as no surprise to Legolas when one of Teonvan's lieutenants stepped closer and dealt a blow to his face that slammed his head backwards against the tree at his back, almost causing him to black out. It took the elven prince quite some time until he had shaken off the grey fog that threatened to pull him under and had gathered enough strength to lift his head, and when he did he instantly wished he hadn't. The gleam in Teonvan's eyes was enough to make him feel sick – even thought that might also have been because his head had just made contact with an incomparably harder tree trunk. Yes, he decided fuzzily, it was probably because of that. His head might be hard, but a tree was even harder.  
  
Teonvan simply grinned at the elf in front of him, appearing like the happiest man this side of the Misty Mountains, which he probably was.  
"You don't learn, elf, do you? I have to say that I'm not overly disappointed about that, since it makes everything so much more enjoyable! Please, do you have anything else to say? I am sure my companions," he nodded at his two grinning lieutenants and the just as broadly grinning men at his back, "are most eager to hear your opinions."  
  
Before Legolas could reply anything which would undoubtedly have not been conducive to his health, a man had pushed through the throng of humans surrounding the tree their prisoner was bound to and placed himself between the elf and Teonvan, an expression on his face that bordered on murderous.  
  
"I protest once again, sir," Cendan said, his voice flat and barely controlled. "Captain Reran assigned the duty of guarding him to me, not to you. He is not to be harmed; that were the orders."  
  
"Captain Reran, Lieutenant," Teonvan said languidly, turning around and smiling at the younger man, "is not here. I am, however, and, as we all know, he entrusted the safety of the camp to me, not to you. Is that not correct?"  
  
Cendan's eyes darkened to an inky blue colour as he stared at his superior. The need to kill him for disobeying their captain's orders burned brightly in his veins, and yet he felt that Teonvan was up to something, something that would allow him to have his way.  
"Yes, sir, it is."  
  
"Then, _Lieutenant_," Teonvan stressed the other's rank, looking around him with eyes that were challenging any of those present to protest, "You will admit that he," he nodded into Legolas' direction who was rather busy trying to breathe at the moment, "is a security risk."  
  
That caught even the unflappable Cendan by surprise.  
"Commander?"  
  
Teonvan smiled again, now addressing all the men.  
"I have been thinking, Cendan," he said confidently, causing the younger man to struggle not to lift a mocking eyebrow. "And I have come to the conclusion that our beloved captain might have … misjudged the situation slightly."  
  
"Are you questioning Captain Reran's decisions, sir?" the dark haired man asked icily, his hand unconsciously straying to the hilt of his knife.  
  
"Oh, no!" Teonvan exclaimed as if greatly scandalised by the mere suggestion. He was apparently not willing to fall into such an obvious trap. "I would never do such a thing! Still, I believe he made a small mistake. See," he began confidentially, talking as much to the elven prisoner as to Reran's lieutenant, "I think that our guest's friend won't stay where he is, waiting for Reran to come looking for him. I don't think he has come so far to let himself be hunted down by our captain and our comrades. I think he's somewhere close by, waiting for an opportunity to kill us, or will be shortly."  
  
Teonvan's smile broadened as he took another step closer to the elf whose eyes had narrowed to mere slits, contempt blazing brightly in their silver-blue depths.  
"But you know what? I know the perfect way to make him come to us."  
  
It took Cendan only a moment to understand what Teonvan was talking about.  
"That is against our orders. Captain Reran…"  
  
"Captain Reran is not in charge at the moment!" Teonvan exclaimed, for a moment breaking free of his anticipatory, pleasurable haze. "I am! And _I_ decide what to do to protect the camp, as I was ordered! Step aside, Lieutenant! I am giving you a direct order!"  
  
The younger man gritted his teeth, his eyes darting from the emotionless elf to the grinning men in front of him, and then to the only man he had ever hated with all his heart. Teonvan had planned this well, he thought darkly. The men might be loyal to their captain, but they would be neither stupid nor brave enough to defy a superior who held their lord's favour. There was nothing he could do, and even if there were, none of the men here would support him. It appeared, he decided grudgingly, that this slimy, twisted creature was more intelligent than he had given him credit for.   
  
Cendan took a deep breath and took a step to the side.  
"I am obeying only under protest."  
  
"Your objections are duly noted," Teonvan nodded with an eerie smile. He nodded at his two lieutenants, his eyes flickering over Legolas' motionless form. "Get him up."  
  
The fair haired elf forced himself not to let any sign of pain show on his face as the two men cut the ropes securing him to the tree and pulled him to his feet. His head seemed to experience the urge to burst into tiny little pieces, something that the elven prince could even understand. He had the sneaking suspicion that spontaneous combustion might be a lot less painful than what Teonvan's dark eyes promised him.  
  
Teonvan waited impatiently for his lieutenants to prop the elf up who seemed to have a problem to gain his feet before he smiled again and rubbed his hands together in childlike glee.  
"Wonderful. Let's get started, shall we?"  
  
Before Legolas could think of something adequately sarcastic to say, he was pushed forward, past the smugly grinning figure of Teonvan and through the mass of the men who were stepping to the side to let him pass. For a moment, he thought about trying to break through the line of humans, of somehow escaping into the scarce cover of the trees surrounding the camp, but a second later a rough hand grasped one of his arms and that fleeting hope died. He might be able to escape his guards' grasp, but before he would have reached the first tree there would be an arrow in his back, or half a dozen. Perhaps even a few knives, he mused thoughtfully, Cendan appeared to be quite a skilled knife fighter…  
  
After a few dozen steps his guards pulled him to a stop, nearly pulling his arms out of their sockets in the process. Legolas forced his thoughts back to the present, however reluctantly, and saw that they were standing in front of the main camp fire that was lit even despite the afternoon light that filtered through the trees around them. It appeared that right next to it there had been a tent which had been removed however, removed except for the main tent pole that still remained, looking like a lonely reminder of things past.  
  
Legolas felt how his heart sped up, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach even intensified. One of his more laudable character traits was the ability to understand the implications of certain things, and the implications which this lone tent pole conveyed were anything but comforting. He had seen many such poles or ones that had been very similar to them, and he had yet to come across a situation where such a pole was not a bad sign, or in fact the herald of doom, pain, torment and other enjoyable things such as these.  
  
The men crowded around the fire, expectant eyes fixed on the outwardly emotionless elf, and Legolas' guards once again began to move, shoving the elf roughly into the direction of the wooden pole. For the first few steps the elven prince was too distracted by the pain that had re-awoken in his old wounds at the brutal treatment, but then the full meaning of what was happening washed over him like an overwhelming wave. Eru, he swore inwardly, this could not be happening! Why were these kinds of things always happening to him? What had Aragorn and he done to the Valar or Ilúvatar to deserve them?  
  
Legolas began to struggle against the men who pushed him forward, fully aware of the futility of his actions and yet unwilling to let these people do as they pleased without the slightest resistance. If they wanted to tie him to that pole, they would have to try a little harder than this!   
  
In the end, it took four men to push him to the tent pole and hold him there until a fifth could tie his bound hands to the top of the pole, nearly forcing the elf to stand on his toes. When the man had finally managed to secure the elven prisoner's wrist to the wood, earning himself many murderous glances from him, he and the others stepped back, some of them holding various bruises and even bleeding wounds whose sight caused Legolas to feel a little bit better. Not much, of course, but enough to raise a mocking eyebrow when Teonvan stepped closer, the sparkle in his eyes burning even brighter now.  
  
Teonvan simply stared at his captive, the promise to make him suffer plain to see in his eyes, and that was the moment when Legolas decided that he would try to make the man angry. If he was lucky, the other might lose his temper and hit him hard enough for him to lose consciousness. Then again, a sarcastic voice inside his head spoke up, it might simply serve to make him really mad.  
  
"So, _human_," Legolas said contemptuously while he inconspicuously tested his bonds which did of course not yield an inch, "What now? What do you hope to achieve with this?"  
  
"And I thought that to be obvious," Teonvan grinned, a grin that was beginning to scare Legolas. He had never known a human could grin so broadly; was this still normal? The man took another step closer to his prisoner, apparently barely able to stop his hands from twitching with impatience. "I believe all your friend needs is a little incentive to show himself. And, trust me, I am more than willing to provide him with one. You will pay for killing our companions, elf."  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes at the man who was standing far too close for his liking, trying to ignore the dark, angry mumbling of approval the watching men emitted.  
"We both know that is only a pretence, human. You are disobeying your orders for nothing, all of you. Do what you will; he will not come. He is not even here."  
  
"There we disagree, Master Elf," the man shook his head in a friendly gesture. "Your friend _is _here, and I fully intend to do what I will. I fully intend to."  
  
The elf didn't answer, in truth not really knowing what to say except calling Teonvan names, a possibility that, as appealing as it appeared at the moment, would most likely not improve his current situation. Then again, how could his situation be improved by anything? Whatever happened, he lost. If Teonvan was right and Aragorn was here somewhere, he would be captured as well since he would surely give himself up, and if the man was wrong and Aragorn was not here, his friend would possibly _still _be captured and Teonvan would _still _have his "fun" with him. Yes, Legolas mused detachedly, the Valar _did _hate him.  
  
That particular assessment was once again confirmed when the men around the fire shifted yet a little closer, and Legolas reluctantly took his eyes off the roughly hewn wooden pole and looked at the spot Teonvan had occupied a moment ago, only to find it empty. He blinked slowly, wondering for a moment where the man had gone, but came to the conclusion that he really didn't want to know.  
  
His wish went unheeded since Teonvan reappeared a moment later, looking more self-satisfied than he had ever seen him – and that meant quite a lot. The thing that shocked Legolas more than the human commander's facial expression was what was visible behind the man, sticking neatly and orderly in the hot ashes of the fire. There was little more to see than several dark, unadorned hilts that shimmered in the light of the flickering fire, even more noticeable against the whiteness of the snow around the fireplace.  
  
Legolas would almost have closed his eyes. The sudden urge not to witness what was going on around here was almost overwhelming, but his pride and the unwillingness to let anyone and especially Teonvan see what he was feeling prevented such an obvious confession of fear. If this was going to happen – and it very much seemed as if it would, he was realistic enough to admit that – the very least he could do was make sure that this twisted excuse for a human being wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing how afraid he really was.  
  
Teonvan was saying something, at least the elf thought so since the man's lips were moving, but he wasn't paying any attention to him What if Aragorn was somewhere close by, what if he was watching this right now? What if that reckless human did indeed what these people wanted, what if he gave himself up? That would be just like Strider, to walk into a potentially lethal situation with open eyes and that stupid grin on his face…  
  
The prince was rudely ripped out of his thoughts when what felt like a metal club connected with the small of his back, slamming his body forward and causing his head to impact with the pole. The sudden pain in his back and head took his breath away, not even allowing the smallest moan to escape his lips, something for which he was rather thankful. He hadn't seen a metal club among the humans' weapons, he reasoned as he tried to force the pain to recede to more bearable levels. It must have been the bigger one of Teonvan's lieutenants, he finally decided, his mind still clouded by the pain that was beginning to fade to a dull ache now. That man had fists made of iron, that was something Legolas had found out some time ago…  
  
A split second before Legolas could raise his head, a hand tangled in his unbraided hair and forced his head up and to the side, and a moment later the fair haired elf looked into the dark eyes of Teonvan who looked even more pleased now than he had before, if such a thing was even possible.  
  
The human shook his head slightly and pursed his lips, looking at his elven prisoner with an expression that was similar to that of a disappointed parent.  
"You weren't listening to me, Master Elf," Teonvan grinned evilly. "That wounds me."  
  
"I am so sorry to hear that," Legolas retorted in a tone of voice that was positively dripping with sarcasm as he worked hard to keep his voice steady and pain-free. "Somehow I had thought you would have got used to it by now."  
  
If Teonvan was angry about the other's reply, he did not show it but merely released the elf's head, apparently rather reluctant to loosen his hold on the pale golden tresses, something that caused the dread filling Legolas' heart to even increase. Before Legolas had enough time to further dwell on the perturbing implications of that reluctance, the man had stepped to the side, closer to the fire.   
  
While Teonvan was bending down to grab one of the dark hilts he gave his smaller lieutenant a sign, and Legolas felt himself be grabbed and twisted around. The ropes binding his hands bit deeper into the skin of his wrists, and he had to struggle to keep the pain that the sudden movement caused off his face as the man grabbed one of his upper arms and roughly turned him around until he was facing the men, the wooden pole now at his back.  
  
'That is something,' a small voice inside his head muttered sarcastically. 'At least this time they leave your back alone.'  
  
Somehow, however, that thought failed to reassure him at all, and all sarcasm seemed to drain from him and to evaporate into nothing when Teonvan turned back to him, a red-hot knife clenched tightly in his fist. He forced himself to look at the man rather than at the dagger while the human commander stepped closer until they were mere inches apart, so close in fact that Legolas could feel the heat that emanated from the scalding blade.  
  
"I love the colour," the man confided in the elf who was doing his best to remain emotionless. "The way it changes from red to gold to white – beautiful, isn't it? Almost as beautiful as … let's say, blood?"  
  
"You are sick," Legolas said coldly. "You are not doing this because you have to, because you are following orders or because you wish to avenge your comrades, you are doing this because you _want_ to. You _enjoy _such things, because this is the only way you can ever feel superior to others. More than anything else, you are pitiable."  
  
"And you, elf, are boring. There's nothing more pathetic and tiresome than empty bravado," Teonvan grinned, outwardly not at all vexed. An impatient murmur could be heard from the onlooking men, and he quickly returned his attention to his prisoner. "I, however, have come up with a way of curing these things."  
  
With a lazy flick of his wrist the man brought the knife up and sliced through the front of Legolas' shirt, leaving the cut fabric singed and smoking slightly. The tip of the hot blade left a long red cut in its wake, but worse than the sting of the knife was the heat that touched the skin, heat that seemed to burn right through skin and flesh into the elf's blood.  
  
Legolas had to struggle hard for composure, and the choice whether to jerk away from the blade or not was taken from him when Teonvan's lieutenant tightened his hold on one of his upper arms, keeping him as firmly in place as if he had been nailed to the post. Elbereth, the cut hurt so much more than a normal one would have!  
  
Teonvan was looking at the cut and the stony-faced elf with shining eyes, satisfaction radiating off him in powerful waves. There was only one term that seemed to fit: Perfection. That cut was perfect. Unable to contain himself any longer, he raised the knife again and, after a quick glance to ensure that it was still hot enough, plunged the weapon into the elf's shoulder – not too deep of course, one wouldn't want the fun to end too soon, would one?  
  
Even though he was held fast, the fair haired being's body convulsed with the pain and he tried to jerk away, but to no avail: The guard's hands held him just as immobile as Teonvan's knife that was beginning to cut into the flesh of his shoulder, following the collarbone to finally meet with the first cut in the middle of the chest. Taking a small step to the side the man moved the red-hot blade over to the other shoulder and repeated the movement.  
  
After what felt like an eternity to the blonde elf, the human commander slowly and reluctantly withdrew the dagger, noting with fascinated interest how little blood there was. That was the trouble with hot knives, he thought sadly. They were a great deal of fun, but due to the heat the wounds were cauterised quickly – a rather unpleasant side-effect. Well, Teonvan thought, you couldn't have everything, could you?  
  
With some regret Teonvan tore his eyes away from the – perfect – cuts on the elf's chest and redirected his gaze to his captive's face. Finally the fair being's stoic façade was showing some cracks, he thought satisfied. The elf's eyes were still open, but several shades darker than usual and slightly glazed. His face was pale, and the muscles of his jaw were clenched tightly in an obvious attempt not to betray the pain he was in. All in all, it was _much _better than before.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked no-one in particular, earning himself a multitude of positive, jeering remarks from the rest of the men who had gleefully been watching the proceedings. "I may not be an artist like Lybran over here, but it's still not bad, is it?"  
  
Teonvan's smaller lieutenant who had been so busy cutting patterns into the elf's cheek a day ago did even blush a little at his superior's words, something the commander didn't even notice since his full attention was fixed on his captive's face.  
  
Legolas stared blankly at the man, battling the pain in his chest and the rest of his body. A few little cuts shouldn't hurt like this, and yet the pain was nearly unbearable. Still, the absolute joy on Teonvan's face was even harder to bear, and so he opened his mouth to answer, knowing full well that he would regret it very soon.  
  
He turned tired, pain-glazed eyes onto the wounds on his chest and the thin trail of blood that trickled down from the deeper ones before returning his gaze to the brown haired man in front of him.  
"You … slipped there at the end. The last one is slightly … crooked."  
  
Had Legolas not already known that opening his mouth was a bad idea, the next events would have proven it to him beyond doubt. For a moment, it appeared as if the men crowding around them were holding their breath while Teonvan was once again going through his going-red-in-the-face-and-glaring-angrily-routine. A second later the man took a deep breath and forced his face into what was supposedly meant to be a smile, before drawing back a little and smashing his fist with practised ease into the exact wounds he had inflicted a moment earlier.  
  
For a split second Legolas' felt nothing, an occurrence that, as astonishing as it was, was most welcome indeed. He felt another blow hit him and another, but his body still registered no pain, a condition that was too good to last, naturally. When he had just finished that thought, the pain hit him like a physical wave, washing over him and causing his knees to buckle. A small, barely articulated cry escaped his lips before he could stop it, and the world fell into a dark chasm of pain and shock. A normal knife wound shouldn't hurt like this, wouldn't hurt like this, but the burnt skin around the cuts multiplied the pain tenfold.  
  
Another blow to his wounded shoulder sent the dark chasm into a sickening spin – something he hadn't even thought possible until now – and another cry wanted to escape him, something Legolas prevented just in time by biting down hard on his lip. His mind might be slightly fuzzy and overcome by pain at the moment, but he was still aware enough of his surroundings to try and stop himself from making any sound of distress. He would not give Teonvan any additional pleasure, Eru help him!  
  
The elven prince tried to lift his head and open his eyes he hadn't even realised he had clamped shut at the sudden agony, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not. The roaring in his head grew louder and louder, and it took him quite some time to realise that the sound was in fact the men's cheering that seemed to drift in and out of focus.   
  
Even when the fists stopped pounding him he did not manage to find the strength to lift his head to look at Teonvan, but that problem was quickly solved when the man once again grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head up. For a moment, Legolas' eyes refused to co-operate, but then Teonvan's face seemed to solidify, separating itself from the formless mass that the elf knew to be the camp.  
  
For the longest time Teonvan simply stared into his captive's pain-glazed eyes, as if looking for something not even he really knew. Whether or not he was satisfied with what he saw, none of the men standing around the pole could tell, but in the end he released the elf's head, causing the fair haired being to let it sink forward again in pain.   
  
The human commander very deliberately let go of the knife's hilt whose blade had cooled considerably, letting it drop onto the ground, before turning back to the roaring flames and taking up the next one of the daggers which were still sticking in the hot ashes of the fire. Teonvan looked at the reddish blade of the knife for a moment and turned his eyes onto the elf just in time to see the quickly hidden flicker of fear in the other's eyes. The old, self-satisfied smile once again spread over his face, and he took a step closer to the bound elf who did not move in his bonds, having either lost the will or the strength to struggle.  
  
"So, Master Elf, where were we?"  
  
An excited murmur ran through the onlooking humans, and as he watched Teonvan close the small distance between them, Legolas sent a fervent prayer to the Valar that Aragorn was truly not here, because he honestly did not know for how much longer he could remain silent.  
  
Then Teonvan was standing next to him again, and all thoughts faded from his mind as if they had never existed.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Grey light filtered through the curtains, the shade reflecting the exact mood that dominated the large, spacious room.  
  
How very fitting, the elf standing at the window thought darkly. The clouds that were covering the sky were just as dark as the mood that seemed to fill the palace – no, that wasn't exactly true. In comparison to the atmosphere that lay over Thranduil's halls, the day looked downright cheerful and bright.  
  
He sighed and pushed a strand of dark hair behind a pointed ear, looking at the gardens beneath his feet. They had ridden out today with the king's scouts to follow a trail the Silvan elves had found yesterday evening, a trail that all of them knew would most probably not lead them anywhere.   
  
Well, he thought wryly, it _had _led them somewhere, but only to a group of human travellers who had been surprised by the fierce weather, had taken refuge in the forest and had promptly got lost in the process. After they had made sure that the men were indeed what they said to be, he and his brother had convinced the young lieutenant leading the small troupe of elven warriors to send two elves with the humans to help them find their way back out of Mirkwood, something to which the younger elf had only consented most grudgingly. It had been obvious that he had only agreed to their proposal due to his unwillingness to offend his king's guests, and he was rather sure that the humans would never again set foot in King Thranduil's woods, not after spending a few hours in the company of two ill-tempered wood-elves.  
  
If he was perfectly fair, he wouldn't have been better company at the moment, he admitted after a second. None of them would have, and who could blame them after all…  
  
"Is there anything interesting to see, my friend? Or are you trying to burn a hole into the drapes with your eyes?"  
  
Even despite the turmoil of emotions that raged inside his chest, he smiled thinly. The owner of this voice was the single most positive elf he had ever met, and that included Erestor when he was having his mischievous and adventurous time of the _yén_.  
  
"No, Celylith, there is not. Apart from your wonderful Mirkwood weather, of course."  
  
The silver haired elf shook his head slightly, carefully eyeing the younger twin son of Elrond. Somehow this calm, controlled behaviour was even harder to bear than the brother's behaviour yesterday. Celylith shuddered inwardly. Only one or two times had he seen the twins truly furious before, and it was a sight he did not look forward to seeing again.   
  
"There is nothing wrong with the weather, my Lord Elrohir," he protested. "It is winter, what do you expect?"  
  
The younger twin turned slowly, grey eyes still darker than was their wont. Since they had arrived here yesterday evening and the twins had, well, reacted rather … indignantly to the news that their human brother and Legolas had disappeared, both Elrohir and Elladan hadn't said much, and if they had, it had only been to request that they be allowed to go looking for Aragorn at once. And neither had Lord Glorfindel, Celylith added mentally, but for all he knew that could be the golden haired elf lord's usual behaviour – even though he doubted it somehow. Lord Glorfindel did not seem like a solemn and introvert type, somehow.  
  
"The sun, what about that?" Elrohir asked, slowly walking back towards the armchair he had dragged in front of the fireplace and which he had vacated a little earlier. "That wouldn't be too much to ask for, would it?"  
  
Celylith shrugged, deciding to ignore that comment, and rather chose to close the distance between Elrohir and himself, crouching down in front of the fireplace and leaning back against the warm stone next to the dancing flames.  
  
Elrohir looked at him, sincerity and sympathy in his gaze.  
"I am sorry about the warrior you lost – Galalith? I heard you knew him."  
  
Celylith swallowed reflexively and lowered his eyes. He still couldn't believe that Galalith was dead and Anardir was wounded badly and might very well join him in Mandos' Halls. He had just seen the two of them a few days ago, and now…  
"Aye," he answered softly. "Aye, I knew him. He was a good warrior – and a good person. He will be greatly missed by all of us."  
  
The younger twin merely nodded and stared into the fire that was flickering in the hearth, unable to think of anything to say. Celylith kept staring at the finely woven rug he was sitting on, dark blue eyes vacant and sad.  
  
"Why are you not with your brother?" he finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. He had found out that he didn't like silence at all; silence allowed dark thoughts and the never dying worry for the safety of his prince and Aragorn to surface. No, he thought darkly, talking was much better, no matter how pointless the topic.  
  
"There is no need," Elrohir answered flatly. "Why are _you_ not at the meeting?"  
  
"I am but a captain of the guard, my friend," the other elf reminded his companion gently. "Lord Celythramir may be my father, but that doesn't give me the right to sit in council with the king and his advisors."  
  
"And why would one want to anyway?" Elrohir exclaimed, his patience finally spent. "It will avail nothing!" Noticing Celylith's questioning stare, he added, a little bit more calmly, "Elladan is there, as is Glorfindel. They are my father's heir and his seneschal; there is no need for me to be there as well."  
  
There was no bitterness in Elrohir's voice, only a deep weariness mixed with an underlying fury that had nothing to do with his brother or tutor.  
  
"I don't really know what you mean, my lor…"  
  
"Yes, you do, my friend," the dark haired elf said tiredly. "You are feeling just as I do, just as we do. You rode with Glorfindel today and were just as successful as we were, namely not at all! All we have achieved is having scared a group of lost humans! What good will it do to sit at a table and discuss things that will not be changed by words? What good will it do to sit there and see my own fears reflected in my brother's eyes? What good will it do to see the pain on Lord Thranduil's face?" Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, Celylith, I am far better off here. I wouldn't help anyone."  
  
Celylith gave his friend a resigned smile.  
"You are right, of course. Right now there's nothing I would rather do than go and pick a fight with something or someone rather big and ill-tempered. And then…"  
  
"…beat it up," Elrohir nodded. "With a large, burly branch."  
  
The other grinned, his troubles forgotten for a moment.  
"That might make me feel a little bit better. Just a little bit of course, but…"  
  
"Yes, I know," the twin nodded again. "Anything would be welcome. I am almost glad that we arrived only yesterday. I would surely have gone insane if I had ridden out day after day, for six days, only to return home empty-handed every time." Elrohir shook his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I ask once again: How do they do it?"  
  
"I don't know," Celylith ground out, torn between worry and anger. "All I know is that I will kill them once I find them. I am not joking," he emphasised, blue eyes darkening even further, "I mean it. This is the last time that they disappear and leave me here to pick up the pieces and go out of my mind with worry. I won't tolerate it any longer."  
  
"You would kill your prince?" Elrohir asked, apparently greatly shocked.  
  
"Oh yes," Celylith nodded with a small, strained smile. "I just hope I will get the chance. You may have the human though."  
  
"As is our right," a new voice to the right of them spoke up. "It is our duty to relieve _ada_ of some of his burdens. Strangling people is always such a great strain on him."  
  
The two young elves turned around, already knowing whom they would see. Leaning casually against a door post stood Elladan, grinning at both of them. For someone who didn't know him well he was looking just as always, but for those who did he did not appear normal in the slightest. The older twin's posture was a little too relaxed, his grin too careless and his eyes too merry. Behind that façade one could see the worry, anger and guilt that filled the dark haired elf's heart, and when the mask slipped for a mere second and Celylith saw the raw fury in Elladan's eyes, he decided that he wouldn't want to be in the shoes of Legolas' captors. Or in Aragorn's, for that matter.  
  
There were many things one could call Celylith, but unobservant was not one of them. With a small nod at Elrohir he rose to his feet, knowing full well that the twins needed some time to themselves. They were still shocked by the fact that their little brother had disappeared just like that, and the last thing Celylith wanted was to intrude now. Besides, the twins had this habit of blaming themselves for things that had been beyond their control, and the _very _last thing Celylith wanted was to hear anyone talk about how they should have been here sooner. He had already more than enough guilt of his own, thank you very much.   
  
He quickly walked over to the door and stopped for a second next to the dark haired elf, not really knowing what to say. He was unable to come up with anything that wouldn't sound stupid or even mentally retarded, and so he simply put a hand on the older twin's shoulder before disappearing out of the door.  
  
For a moment, Elladan remained where he was and just looked at his younger brother, the grin fading quickly from his face. Finally Elrohir raised his head wearily and returned his twin's intense stare.  
  
"So, how was the meeting?"  
  
A dark, sarcastic smile spread over Elladan's face and he came closer with a snort of disgust, plopping down next to the fire where Celylith had sat only a moment ago.  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Well," the younger twin began carefully, "I…"  
  
"Exactly!" Elladan exclaimed, throwing up his hands in angry exasperation. "How is talking going to solve anything? The king and his advisors know that perfectly well, too! They just hold these council meetings so they don't have to admit to themselves that they don't have any idea what to do! Estel and Legolas are out there, and what do they do? Pass resolutions!"  
  
"It is better than to do nothing, brother," Elrohir reminded him. "Do you expect King Thranduil to sit down and admit that he lost his heir? Or our brother, for that matter?"  
  
The other elf took a deep breath and nodded after a moment.  
"Yes, you're right of course. It is simply so…"  
  
"…infuriating? Frustrating? Maddening?" his brother offered. "Yes, I know."  
  
"Celylith is right," Elladan said darkly. "I will kill Estel. I truly will. What was he thinking?"  
  
"He wasn't thinking," Elrohir shook his head. "He is never thinking. You are rubbing off on him, it appears."  
  
"This is what I look like when I'm not smiling, Elrohir," Elladan shot back annoyed, pointing at his own scowling face. "Estel should have waited for us! How far does he think he'll get? And even if he finds Legolas, what is he going to do then? Fight a group of at least twenty humans? Or try and reason with them until they're so annoyed that they agree to let Legolas go just to get rid of him??"  
  
His younger brother closed his eyes shortly and shook his head.  
"You read his letter, you know why he did it."  
  
"What, this one?" Elladan questioned angrily, brandishing the letter Lord Celythramir had given them yesterday evening. He unfolded the parchment for the umpteenth time, his long fingers trembling slightly with rage and fear.  
  
_'"I cannot stay here, and I cannot wait for you either, my brothers. I am sorry, and I hope you'll understand and forgive me with time. All I do know is that I have to leave, now, or Legolas will die.   
  
Please tell our father that I did what I had to, and that I did not mean to dishonour him or our house with my actions. I return home once I have found Legolas, I promise, but I cannot abandon him like this. I do what I must, as would you were you in my place."'_  
  
Elladan looked up again, a mixture of fear and indignation on his face.  
"If he wants to disobey orders and sneak out of the palace, he should wait for us! He is doing what he has to, indeed! Worrying us all the way to Valinor and back, is that what he must do?"  
  
"Do be fair, Elladan," Elrohir shook his head again. "He also said that he loved us and was sorry for worrying us. Several times, and you know it is the truth."  
  
"Aye," Elladan relented reluctantly. "And we love him, of course, no matter what folly he is planning this time, but…"  
  
"…he will get himself into one of his 'situations' again. You're right. We should…"  
  
"…make sure someone's there to get him out of it again. Indeed," Elladan finished his twin's thought. A calculating expression stole over his eyes, and he added, "Would tonight be convenient for you?"  
  
Elrohir grinned, the first genuine grin since they had arrived here yesterday and had found out that their friend and little brother had disappeared without a trace.  
"Yes, I do believe I am free tonight."  
  
"Very well," his brother inclined his head and rose to his feet. "I will see you then. I'll go and … prepare. We'll use the usual way?"  
  
"Yes, I think that would be prudent," Elrohir nodded and got to his feet as well, walking over to his bags that were still waiting to be unpacked, sitting forgotten in a corner. "I will see you tonight after dinner. Around midnight, I think, when most people have already retired."  
  
The two of them exchanged a last glance and Elladan left his brother's room, leaving Elrohir to stare blindly at his quiver and bow that leaned against the packs. With an effort, he tore his eyes away from the weapon his grandparents had given him and his brother many years ago – a weapon Legolas had often studied with envious eyes, much to their amusement.  
  
Celylith was right, he decided. Anything was better than sitting here and worrying, even it was a folly that would cause their father to strangle them once they got back home.  
  
Elrohir shook his head and grabbed the bag containing his spare clothes. As long as they returned with Estel, he would't care in the slightest.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Aragorn was slowly moving through the undergrowth, wondering how and at what point everything had gone so terribly wrong. After giving the matter considerable thought, the young ranger decided that that would have been the moment he had started to climb down the tree in front of his room in Mirkwood.   
  
On the other hand, he reasoned, it might also have been the point when he had allowed a wimpy, flea-bitten wolf to nearly rip off his right arm. After it and its pack had begun to nibble at his horse's legs, of course – that was something that had truly made him furious.  
  
He looked behind himself to make sure that his horse had remained where he had left it, namely in the small clearing a few yards behind him. He hadn't truly expected it to, since Ráca was turning out to be just as headstrong as Legolas' Rashwe – thankfully also a lot less evil and dangerous, even though at least as annoying. All Rashwe did after all was glare at you in a manner that left little doubt about the fact that he hated you; Ráca however looked at you disapprovingly and disappointedly, in a manner that was beginning to remind him disconcertingly of his elven father.  
  
Aragorn shook his head and, after having ascertained that the horse had indeed stayed where he had bid it, closed the distance between himself and the large tree in front of him, the tree had chosen as a lookout point. A moment later he had reached the tree, and was now faced with the question of how he should climb it. The young man gave his bandaged forearm a nasty look, trying to ignore the pain that was beginning to envelop his arm now that his attention was focused on it. Well, this was going to be interesting.  
  
Deciding that he would freeze in this position if he didn't start moving soon, he reached out with his left hand and grabbed the nearest branch. For a few seconds, everything went rather well, but after ascending five feet, Aragorn grabbed the tree trunk in an attempt to stop himself from falling down again. His arm felt as if a hundred tiny, starved wolves were busy tearing it into even tinier pieces, and for a moment he felt very tempted to check the wound for them. One could never know…  
  
With an effort, he forced himself to concentrate and continue. He needed a place from which he could watch the humans' camp, and, if possible, before the four scouts he had so narrowly avoided earlier returned. Aragorn frowned as he tried to ignore his injured arm and climbed higher.  
  
This day had been highly interesting until now, even though he had very nearly died/got caught/got himself eaten several times. He had been right this morning when he had had the feeling that he was not safe on the road. Only minutes after he had guided his horse off the road and into the undergrowth three men had appeared, men who had followed him after discovering the dead wolves. That had, of course, been the point when Aragorn had realised that he had left his dagger behind, a fact that would have nearly caused him to draw his other knife and cut his own throat to spare the men the trouble of having to do it themselves.  
  
Even now, Aragorn gritted his teeth when he thought of his own stupidity. How could he have been so thoughtless?! What had he been _thinking_? You never – ever – left your weapons behind in unknown territory, not even when they were broken or otherwise useless; that was something his brothers and Glorfindel had taught him a long time ago. And you _certainly _did not leave your dagger behind, your _elvish _dagger, so that humans who had captured an elf and were possibly just waiting for an elf to appear on the scene could find it!  
  
The ranger gripped a branch with his right hand, almost welcoming the pain as punishment for his idiocy. What had happened could not be changed now, and the three humans hadn't been too skilled at what they had been doing – at least not skilled enough to find a ranger and an elven horse when they didn't want to be found. They hadn't even come close to their position, and on any other day Aragorn would have felt compelled to laugh about them, even if only inwardly, but not today. Today he had been too busy staunching the blood flowing in small rivulets down his arm to have sufficient time to laugh about the men's incompetence, and when he had just managed to decently bandage the wound the humans had given up and left.  
  
For a moment, he had been tempted to follow them right away, but had decided against it, knowing full well that he had to look after his horse's and his own wounds first. Wolves might be no wargs, but their claws were still dirty and he didn't even want to think about what the one who had been trying to rip off his arm had eaten last. If he didn't clean them properly, the wounds would fester and make everything much harder; something he had quickly but reluctantly admitted to himself.  
  
It might even have been a good thing that he hadn't followed the men, because when he had just finished cleaning the scratches and bite wounds – and had nearly got his head bitten off by his horse in the process – and he had just got back to his feet to follow the men, his horse had started to become agitated again. Aragorn might be many things, but he was not willing to make the same mistake twice.  
  
He had just managed to hide his horse when the three men had reappeared, this time accompanied by a forth who had unfortunately a lot more experience in tracking people. Aragorn had only had to take one look at the middle-sized man to know that he would be in trouble if he didn't disappear, _now_. For a moment he had contemplated hiding his horse in a small, nearly undetectable cave a few hundred yards away and concealing himself high up in one of the pine trees that would offer him sufficient cover, but had decided against it when he had realised that these were most probably scouts that had been sent by the main group. The other humans would most likely not leave until the four of them had returned, and in that case it was important that they returned as late as possible. The last thing he wanted was to let these people get away again now that they were so close.   
  
Even though he was sure that his arm was not broken he knew that he was in no condition to fight four uninjured men, and so he had led them on a merry little chase that took them into the direct opposite direction of the camp. To his substantial satisfaction he could say that the humans had never been close to actually catching up with him, and for a minute or two he had even been able to enjoy this little "game" of hide and seek, until it had come back to him with whom he was actually playing it. In the end he had managed to lay a few false tracks, had watched the men follow them and disappear into the distance and had doubled back.  
  
He had followed the path he had left when the men had first arrived, and now here he was, hoping that his horse did as he had bid it and trying to climb the most uncooperative tree he had seen since he had been about twelve years old. Aragorn shook his head and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. If his body had it its way and he fell out of this tree, no-one would help Legolas; besides, if the fall didn't kill him, the humiliation of falling off a tree twice in less than a year certainly would. His brothers would find out, somehow, and that would be it.  
  
A few minutes later he decided that, considering the way his arm felt at the moment, namely as if it would fall off any second now, this was as good a place to stop as any, and wrapped his good arm around the trunk. Now that he was a few dozen feet above the ground, he could just barely see the camp through the snow that had started falling again, if he strained his eyes. He couldn't hear much except shreds of jeering laughter and applause, but that could still change if the wind turned just a little more. The men had stopped for the night in a rather large clearing, and from what he could see there were only two or three guards.   
  
There was a large group standing at the far end of the glade, and Aragorn leaned forward a little to be able to see more. Why were the men behaving like this, why weren't there more guards? Even the guards that were standing at the edges of the clearing appeared somewhat absent-minded and distracted and kept looking back to the main fire, that wasn't a behaviour he would expect from people such as them. What was going on here? What...  
  
His inward questions trailed off abruptly as he leaned forwards even more and a man standing at the edge of the group shifted slightly to the side at the same time, enabling him to get a clear view on the fireplace. The young man felt how his heart and mind froze, leaving him trembling and cold as ice. After some moments, he felt a sharp pain in his left hand, and realised that he had grabbed the rough bark of the tree so hard that the stub of a broken branch had dug into his palm, drawing blood. Aragorn loosened his hold on the tree slightly, but did not avert his eyes or paid the small wound any attention.  
  
The young ranger stared at the sight several hundred yards in front of him, unable to tear his eyes away from it, no matter how much he wished to do just that. Next to the large, flickering fire was a tall, rather thin pole, surrounded by about fifteen men. And bound to that pole was – of course – Legolas. Aragorn very consciously took a deep breath, idly wondering how it was possible that his blood was boiling with rage when the rest of him was as cold as the snow that covered everything in sight.   
  
Legolas was still standing upright – something that was probably owed to the fact that he was tied to the wooden post. What had probably once been his shirt hung in tattered shreds from his body, and countless bruises, shallow cuts and large, red, cut-like marks could be seen on his torso and face. From what the man could see, his friend's eyes were closed, and try as he might, he couldn't determine if the elf was still conscious – or alive, for that matter. He had never thought it possible, but this was just like the dreams he'd had – and yet a thousand times worse.  
  
Hot rage coursing through his body, Aragorn tried to strain his eyes even more, but before he could find out anything else, a brown haired man who had been kneeling in front of the fire straightened up again and took a step closer to the bound elf. His back was to the tree Aragorn was clinging to at the moment, and so the man couldn't see what he was holding in his hands or what he was doing, but a moment later his question as to whether his elven friend was still alive was answered, though not in the way he had wished.  
  
Just a few seconds after the man had stepped in front of his captive a low, but still more than audible scream cut through the freezing air, closely followed by cheers and jeering laughter of the onlooking men. Aragorn might have been angry before, but that scream, uttered by a voice he knew as well as his own, caused him to nearly fall off the fir tree he was sitting in. For a moment, the man's vision was clouded with a blood red colour. How dare they, how dare these humans hurt his friend like this! He knew how notoriously hard it was to make Legolas admit that he was in pain let alone cause him to express it; what had they done to him to make him cry out like this?  
  
Before he even knew what he was doing, he was climbing down the tree, and never before had he descended from such heights in such short time when he had not been falling down, that was. When his feet touched the ground he began moving closer to the part of the clearing where the men and his friend were, still having retained enough presence of mind to move from cover to cover instead of rushing over to them as he so desperately wanted. He was alone, and even though the men were distracted and not paying attention to their surroundings there was no way he could take on all of them. He would be dead before he had reached Legolas' side, or would be forced to surrender when one of them held a knife to his friend's throat.   
  
While he was slowly moving closer to the men, a part of the anger, fury and contempt that filled his heart faded a little and made way to confusion and puzzlement. These people had gone to great lengths to capture Legolas and had kept him alive until now, why would they start torturing him now? There always was the possibility that the victim died, so why risk losing what they had worked so hard for? It did not make sense!  
  
It seemed, however, that today was a day when his questions were answered almost immediately, as the young ranger found out only moments later when he had just taken cover behind a large, leafless tree, only a few dozen feet away from the fire. The guards were far too busy watching the proceedings in the camp to be on the lookout for intruders, Aragorn thought darkly. Now that he was close to the fire, he could see the men and his friend much clearer, and he felt how the anger in his heart grew even more.   
  
Even though he knew that the blonde elf was still alive, he wouldn't have believed it at first glace. Up close Legolas looked even worse than he had before; his skin pale and beaded with sweat and the numerous red cuts appearing in even starker contrast than before. There was a rather small, black spot on the side of the elf's chest that Aragorn couldn't identify though; a very roughly cylindrical shape that rose and fell with every gasping, heaving breath the bound elf took. The man narrowed his eyes. What in the name of the One was tha…  
  
The thought died in his mind when the brown haired man stepped forward again and reached for the black object, and when he grasped it and pulled it out slowly with a sickening smile, Aragorn realised that it was a black, roughly cylindrical knife hilt. Legolas did not raise his head which was hanging forward in pain and exhaustion and merely moaned softly as the man slowly removed the knife from his flesh, and that was the moment the ranger noticed the small wisps of smoke that surrounded the blood-covered blade.  
  
The man held up the knife for all the men to see and said something that caused them to burst out laughing, but Aragorn did not hear a single sound over the thundering beats of his own heart. He blinked slowly and he had to take several deep breaths before he had composed himself sufficiently to even formulate a coherent thought. Great Manwë, that knife was hot and this man had…  
  
His furious train of thought that was very nearly causing him lose what was left of his self-restraint and composure was interrupted when the unnamed human turned back to his elven prisoner, his shallow, sunken face practically aglow with pleasure.  
  
"Well, well, well," he said friendly, "It appears that we have finally found your limits. It took long enough, after all." Apparently displeased by the fact that the elf didn't seem to acknowledge his words, he grasped his chin roughly and forced his head up, looking into glazed, pain-filled eyes with a large grin on his face. "And there exactly, Master Elf, lies the problem. We have been at this for hours, and yet your elusive friend has not shown himself. I might have miscalculated after all. Perhaps he isn't even interested in what happens to you."  
  
If Legolas had heard the man's words, he didn't show it but simply stared at the brown haired human's face, a blank, disinterested, distracted look on his face as he desperately tried to get the pain under control that pulsed through him. Even the slight wind touching his body hurt, not to mention the bonds that secured him to the post and Teonvan's hand that was grasping his chin.  
  
The human commander released the elf's head and took a step back, a mixture of sated contentment and anxiety warring in his chest. The past two hours had been much more satisfactory than he could have imagined, but there _was _the small problem that the other elf had still not appeared. If Reran got back and he hadn't captured the other elf, he would be dead, he did not harbour any illusions about that.  
  
Trying to ignore Cendan's more than a little smug expression, he turned around, looking at the trees that surrounded their little camp on three sides.  
"Listen up!" he called. "I am losing my patience! You can stop all this! If you come out now you will spare your friend a lot of unnecessary pain!" He looked at the quiet woods for a few seconds, and added impatiently, "I am, however, more than willing to continue! How much more do you think he's able to take? I would love to find out, but I have the feeling that you and he would not!"  
  
Behind his tree, Aragorn opened his eyes he had closed for a few moments. All this had happened just because of him? Just because they wanted him to show himself?  
Nothing here gone according to plan, absolutely nothing. This hadn't been supposed to be more than a scouting mission; his plan had been to check things out, follow the men if they decided to travel on today and come back to free Legolas in the night. That was what he should do, a small, reasonable voice told him. He should disappear now and come back to free his friend later. These men would not kill their prisoner, and if they captured him too, their chances of escape would drop dramatically.  
  
Yes, he thought darkly, listening only with one ear to what the man was saying now. That was what he should do. But he knew that he couldn't, he knew that he couldn't leave his friend behind like this if all they wanted was that he showed himself. Besides, he never did what he should do, so why ruin an otherwise perfect record?  
  
Still, he thought as he soundlessly drew his smallest knife, he might be reckless as his brothers had claimed countless times, but he wasn't stupid. He quickly but carefully carved a small Elvish rune into the bark of the tree, a long bar that was met by two smaller, tilted bars. It was not beautiful and done in haste, but every elf coming this way would know what this was, namely the rune standing for the tengwa whose Quenya name was Rómen, meaning East. Rhûn meant nothing else; it was the Sindarin equivalent of that word. Aragorn shrugged lightly and put the dagger back into its sheath. It wasn't as good as a drawn map with a red arrow pointing into the direction of Rhûn, but it would have to do.   
  
He took another deep breath to compose himself, sent a quick prayer to Elbereth to watch over Legolas and him, and stepped around the tree and out into the open.  
  
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**TBC...**

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_yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years  
ada - father (daddy)_

  
  
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***shakes head sadly* He'll never learn, will he? Then again, I'm not complaining. Our world would be a very boring place if our favourite ranger or elf did indeed manage to learn from their mistakes... *evil grin* Then again, he didn't have much choice. *shrugs* Whatever. Alright, I have an evil college paper due on Saturday afternoon, so I hope I'll be able to post on Sunday. No promises, but I'll try. A review, or rather more than one review, would cheer me up and might prompt me to post on time. *g* So: Review? Please?**  
  


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**Additional A/N:  
  
TrinityTheSheDevil** - *g* Who isn't? We're all sweet and perfectly normal... LOL, Aragorn is heading into 'undeniable and unescapable doom'? Well, essentially ... yes. You could say that; it's even a rather accurate description now that I think about it... *evil grin* And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the Glorfindel pain I promised you. In fact, I also promised Sabercrazy and Cathy, so I'd better keep my word. The three of you are dangerous. Very, very dangerous. And rabid too.  
**Deana** - That's what a lot of people said, believe me. But I am sure you - and the rest of the readers - managed to wait patiently for this chapter! *g* Thanks for the review, and here's chapter 15! Wohooo!  
**Aratfeniel** - I know, I know. FF.net was going through phase again - others would call it normalcy, but I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. *g* Well, no, I am nort acrually, but... Oh, and yes, I think you had to enable cookies in your browser. I assume you did that because you have logged in for this and ... I'm blabbering again, huh? Okay, I'll shut up now... *g* You have a 'I-love-Aragorn-and-Legolas-torture-dance'? That's scary...  
**Gwyn** - Well, yes, the twins are indeed adorable. I don't really think Celylith is, but he's my OC, so that's like ... like with siblings, I guess. I would never be able to see something adorable my sister or brother, I think. *g* And yes, they'll be in this chapter, don't worry. Go and read. *pushes her into direction of chapter*  
**XsilicaX** - *evil grin* Yup, we had snow. It's gone now, but we had lots and lots of it. And I am in a city! I put some in the freezer though, just for you! So, the next time I visit England, I'll bring it with me and send it to you! Deal?! *g* LOL, I DID notice the sarcasm. Don't worry. And you're probably righht. Thranduil wouldn't kill Aragorn, that would be downright disrespectful. He's a polite man, uhm, elf, he'd let Elrond kill him. *g* Oh, and wolves can look smug, just like sharks look evil. My cat can also look smug, very much so. *shudders* She's insane, too. ROTFL, I am a what? A cliffy-loving torture freak? Why, thank you! *huggles Cathy* Thanks for the compliment! And I couldn't write a paragraph in French either. Hmm, I could do Greek though... *wanders off to have a look at her Ilias* It's a beautiful language. Slightly useless, but beautiful nonetheless. November 7th, huh? Okay, that shoudl be doable! And I don't think I will kill Celythramir. Believe it or not, _I_ like him, and it wouldn't help the plot in the slightest to kill him, at least not now. Perhaps later. *evil grin*  
**Zam** - Uhm, well, I hope you got electricity back? To be honest, I've never been without it for longer than two hours or something, but I'm sure it's horrible. *pats her back* Poor you. At least you had no school... LOL, so it was Lina who was stalking Aragorn? I should have known - are her eyes really that yellowish? I like horses too, but I would never say I love them. Most horses are simply stupid, and quite a lot of them are stupid, too. And yes, of course Aragorn is that stupid, but he didn't breatk his arm. I don't think why everyone though it's broken, but it's not. Only slightly ... maimed. *evil grin* About the orcs: Tolkien stated somewhere (if you really want to know where I'd have to look it up) that orcs and goblins aren't the same thing. It's that the goblins are wilder and 'uncivilised', they don't serve Sauron but are simply evil and living in the mountains while the orcs are eviller and in the service of the Dark Lord. *grimaces* Oh, I'd better look it up. And your guess isn't THAT bad. Not quite right yet, but not bad. *g*  
**Shannonday** - Uhm, okay, THAT is interesting. Let's just assume you love the stories, not me, shall we? *g* In that case, thank you very much. I'm glad you like it!**  
Forever Unstoppable** **-** Yes, Reran WILL have a hard time finding our dear ranger. *pats Reran's back* Poor Reran. His is not an easy life, no... You are obsessed with this story? Really? Well, that is rather flattering - disconcerting and worrying, but flattering.... *g* Sorry about updating not-so-soon, but life's really horrible and busy at the moment. *sobs*   
**Calenore** - LOL, yes, that's it. They're gleeful because they've decided being nice to him for the rest of the trip. That'd show him.... *g* Well, I think for them it's not really important who Legolas really is. Their lord might think differently, but I think to them it's irrelevant whether he is an elven warrior, the King of Mirkwood or Lady Galadriel. Elf is elf - for them, that is. I don't think Thranduil will show up though. Apart from the fact that he has not the slightest clue where the men went, I don't think that he would leave Mirkwood at such a time, when the heir to the throne has already disappeared. *smiles sheepishly* Sorry. **   
Firnsarnien - ***sighs* It wasn't a cliffy. This one might be, of course. I simply don't know anymore. And I absolutely agree: You are the worst obsessed insane evil hopeless person around here. *g* No, that didn't sound good at all, it did in fact sound bad obsessed insane evil and hopeless. *g* And no, the big elven warrior wasn't one of the twins. I think it was a random Imladris elf, like Isál or Elvynd from AEFAE. I still have to give them characters for the next story. *sighs again*   
**Karone Evertree** - Yeah, I guess you have to find something positive about every situation. At least Legolas won't be alone. *evil grin* No, indeed not. *even eviller grin* Oh, I love being evil and cryptic. *very evil grin*  
**Iverson** - Hmm, I've always tried to hide from all things that looked even remotely like Math and wait till they went away. Almost never worked, but it was always worth the try. *g* And you're not the only one who needs to giggle every time you read Lasseg. Most people think it quite funny, and every time I have to write that particular I am snickering evilly. I don't think Legolas was thinking at all when he chose that name, as always. That's their problem, you know, they don't THINK, these idiots. It's a miracle they're still alive. *shakes head* Males. I don't know yet when the "rescue party" (*snickers*) will arrive, not for a while yet, sorry. Carefully I'd say chapter 22-24, something like that, close to the end. I hope. It's also good to hear that you like Reran; he's supposed to be an honourable villain, if something like that exists. Oh, and I wrote this chapter here about 1 1/2-2 weeks ago. I'm always at least 2 chapters ahead. It's a good policy, trust me. *g* I liked Ken Watanabe (I think that's his name) very much, he played Katsumoto, the rebel leader. He _was_ great, too. *g* Yes, Nili does have an email adress ... uhm, no, she doesn't. None at all. Honest. *g*  
**Leggylover03** - Huh? Their 'life altering reunion'? *reads next few chapters, including every scene that could remotely be termed reunion* Uhm, sorry, but there's nothing life altering about it. Sorry to disappoint you. *confused look*  
**Alilacia** - LOL, snakes, that's it! Winter snakes, vicious little demons that love snow - which would be rather unique for reptiles... *g* It might be that big one from Harry Potter... Ack! No! Stay away! *beats plot bunny with a stick* No! Help! Please! *is attacked by vicious plot bunny* See what you've done - again!! But don't worry, he won't meet Pallando or Alatar (I think that's his name), I am not yet confident enough to write an Istar. And Aragorn's arm wasn't broken, mainly because it would have destroyed the plot. It's just slightly ... maimed. *g* Don't let those night shifts get you down, always remember: Who needs sleep anyway? *g*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Really? Good! I had feared wolves were too obvious... I guess my mind is comign up with weird things. Hmm, you want more angst? Well, there is quite a lot coming up in the next few chapters, so I hope it's enough for you. Then again, it's never enough, is it? *g*  
**Firniswin** - Uhm, yeah, most of those nice capitalised sentenced were correct, except the last one. No real Aragorn torture for a while, sorry. He got most of the "attention" in THOM, so it wouldn't be fair. *g* And don't worry, my sanity is long gone too. I don't think it even made it to kindergarten. *g* Nope, it didn't.  
**Carla** - LOL, ja, die 'Lage spitzt sich zu'. Kann man wohl sagen. *g* Mich wundert es gar nicht, dass du elf torture oder allgemeine torture nicht magst. Ich mag sie - glaub es oder nicht - auch nicht besonders. Ich brauche fuer eine winzige torture Szene immer Ewigkeiten, und kann meist selbst nicht lesen, was ich da gerade geschrieben habe. Ich liebe allerding H/C, und dafuer braucht man leider torture oder Verletzungen oder so, also ist es bei eher ein Mittel zum Zweck. Na ja, mit 16 studiert man halt auch in den seltensten Faellen. *g* 'Tschuldigung fuer das Missverstaendnis. Dann hast du jetzt Ferien? Mein Neid ist dir gewiss... *g*  
**Shadow Warrior** - Ah, don't worry, as long as you tell me once in a while whether you like it or not I shall be happy. *g* Another Aragorn girl, huh? Join the club! *hands her a shiny badge and shakes her hand* Welcome to "Aragorn obsessed fans anonymous" or something like that, that doens't really sound good, does it... *walks off mumbling under her breath* The twins will be in this chapter and in the next, don't worry. I love the twins, they're simply so adorable... *huggles them*  
**Sirithiliel** - Uhm, yes, Aragorn will come. Oh, that would be a No and another No ... sorry, not quite like that. *g* It's close enough though! *blinks* Well, it's great I inspired you! Go, write your story and be merry! *shoves her into the direction of her computer/laptop/whatever* Have fun!  
**Cicci** - I think you're right! 'In comparison to other things that could happen, have happened and surely will happen', as you so eloquently put it, Aragorn is perfectly alright! For how long is another question though... *evil grin* I guess you could call Teonvan creepy, even though I would, personally, rather call him sick and stupid. But creepy is just as acurate I guess... *g* Thanks for all your great reviews, btw! I've probably said it before, but I thought I should say it again. Never hurts. *g*  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Wow, that must have taken some time, to read all my weird stories, I mean. All in all they're probably about 790 pages long, not counting this one. *pats your back* Congrats! Thank you very much for your compliments and for taking the time to review. I love reviews, as you probably already know. *g*  
**Halfling** - Model UN? What exactly is that? Is that one of these college game-thingies, where you pretned to be the UN and all that - I think they've done something like that at my university as well... *shrugs* I can't really remember though. *g* Hmm, why couldn't Aragorn just wait? A. It would have been too easy, b. It would have been the intelligent thing to do, and c. It's more fun this way. For us, that is. *evil grin* And don't worry, I managed to avoid all fallen trees on my way down the hill. Most of the time, that is... *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Well, right now it'd be 'Guten Abend' here. *g* Don't worry, you got that right, but why in the name of Ilúvatar and all the Valar did you take _German_? It's ugly, it's hard to learn (or so they say, I wouldn't know) and it's ... useless? Go and take Spanish instead. It's more beautiful, you can speak it in the largest part of South and Middle America, not to mention in Spain of course, and it's rather easy to learn. *shakes head* Really... Still, if you have any questions, feel free to send me an email. I'd be happy to help. *g* Be that as it may, you're right of course. Thranduil IS to be pitied, and you'll see a part of their reaction in this chapter, don't worry. They're not all too happy... *winces* No, not at all... Believe it or not, I have to interrupt my little 'reply-to-the-reviews-session' as well for the wonderful task of walking the dog. Luckily the snow's melted and it's rather warm here, otherwise I'd freeze to the door again... Bloody winter.  
**TrustingFriendship** - It would have been rather humiliating to be eaten by a scrawny wolf, _especially_ when you ARE Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Rangers and Isildur's heir, wouldn't it? Oh, it definitely would have... *shakes head* Poor Aragorn. Uhm, the stupid ranger living up to Legolas' claims ... uhm, technically speaking, Legolas was talking about an ELF, right? *shrugs* As I said, Aragorn does something incredibly stupid. I'll remember your preference for villain torture; I'll see what I can do!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Trust me, it IS lots of fun! Far more fun than during the day! And you're right, I would most certainly not have gone sledding if there had been even the slightest chance that I might end up in Hithrawyn's healing wing. No, everything is better than that... *shudders* If you are really adapting those people's characters traits, I would RUN and get an appointment. With a psychiatrist, or a brain surgeon, or both. *g* Your twins are in here, don't worry. Go and read. *g*  
**Estelreader** - *blushes* Well, thank you! It's of course very nice to hear that you like my other stories as well as Celylith, something I can't really understand, btw. He's like a younger brother to me, always pestering me and annoying like hell... Celylith: *growls* Uhm, j/k, I LOVE you, of course! *huggles angry elf* See what I mean? LOL, you missed Estel terribly in chapter 12? Well, don't worry, he's in this one. Thanks a lot for reviewing; I love reviews!  
**Rabbit of Iron** - No, no, no, _don't_ be sorry! You don't have to be sorry, really. I am sure it is a harmless, fluffy, happy family movie, it's just that people in the sixties and seventies were still a little bit sensitive about such issues. Well, they still are, of course, that's something that will never change, but hey, I mean, "Saving Private Ryan", "Schindler's List", "La Vita è Bella" and things like that all have a large fan base here. They are great movies, and things change, it just takes some time. And you've never hear of Hellzapoppin? What? Go and rent it! No, better yet, go and BUY it! It's hilarious, trust me! *shakes head* Doesn't know Hellzapoppin, preciousss.... Hmm, about Wilwarin - not really? She's not exactly a main character, and I don't think I will put her into this story. It would complicate things. *g*  
**Grumpy** - Then go sledding! It's so much fun, trust me! Then again, it's not funny anymore when you have too much snow, that's true. I agree with Ráca as well, Aragorn IS insane but funny. Well, I hope you didn't get even more snow! Ours has already melted... *sad look*  
**Elenora1** - Hmm, do you want an honest answer? No! I don't get tired of hearing that; besides, you usually write better reviews than simply 'it was great update soon please'. I always love getting reviews from you. *g* You're right, btw, it's a miracle Arwen even wanted him! I mean, he must be covered with the most horrendous scars from head to toe! *evil grin* Yes, what does the evil lord want from Legolas - we'll find out. Eventually, that is. In a few chapters. Quite a few chapters. You do what? You _print_ the chapters? Really? Wow, your printer is WAY more resilient than mine!   
**Starlight** - Na ja, wenigstens bist du ehrlich. Das ist doch schon mal was. *g* Zuzugeben, dass man einer der Blutruenstigen ist, ist der erste Schritt zur Besserung. Hmm, meistens gibt es gar keine Besserung, aber na ja. *g* So, du wuerdest unsere Lieblingselbenzwillinge also einfangen und ... knuddeln, aha. Na, wenn das so ist... *zwinkert* Ich hoffe, dass deine Franzoesischklausur nicht so schlimm war; meistens denkt man ja, es ist schlimmer, als es ist. War doch sicher ganz okay. *g*  
**Ellyrianna** - It's not MY fault that Aragorn does all these STUPID things! Well, yes, maybe it is, but ... uhm, it's my alter ego? She is the one who likes to pour angst over several innocent characters... *smiles innocently* Really. *catches bundled up ranger* Uhm, thanks! On to the next chapter then! *evil grin*  
**Elvendancer** - I know the book you're talking about, well, I don't KNOW it, but I know of it. It's rather interesting, but I think lots of the myths and legends are rather obvious to recognise - if you know the Norse mythology, that is. It's rather interesting, just take the names of most of the dwarves in The Hobbit and LOTR, they're straight out of the Edda. It's rather interesting, really. *g* You do have a happy lost though? And you put Teonvan on it? Wow, that list I've got to see...   
**Critternut** - LOL, yes, it was close to his leg. But as I said earlier (in fact, about two dozen times), it would ruin everything if they weren't able to walk. It would make everything much, much more complicated than it already is, and we don't want that, do we? Don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question. *g* Ouch! How did you break your arm? Oh, you said it, soccer, wasn't it? I know why I don't like that game... *shudders* Dangerous. LOL again, Reran does indeed hate Teonvan. Quite a lot of people do, actually. And yes, thrice is a word, it means three times. Rhymes with twice, though. *g* And I used Quenya instead of Sindarin because, well, the Sindarin word for wolf is 'draug'. So Wolf-queen would mean something like, let me think, Draugrîn or Draugrîs or something like that. And that looks stupid, right? *nods* Right.  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - *whacks Aragorn upside the head* Here you go. Do you feel better now? *huffs* Of course I recognise the spoon! I don't think that Legolas or Celylith meant to supply an enemy with their newest torture methods - too bad for them, huh? *evil grin* Legolas blushed a lot, nearly as much as Seobryn, and he did of course not try to chase me around. He knows I am the omnipotent master of his universe; it would be pretty suicidal. *g* *watches enraged elf and ranger come closer* Massachusetts, here I come! Squeeee! *dives into basement*  
**Amelie** - Hmm, your computer does indeed sound rather evil. Have you tried threatening it with dismemberment? That tends to work rather nicely... *evil grin at her own computer* I like your idea of what happens to Aragorn. It's rather original, but unfortunately far too easy. I doubt that Reran would have been so naïve not to notice that Aragorn is the mysterious elf (how are the chances of running into someone by chance out there?), and you too assume that the twins & Co. will show up in the near future to save the day. *shakes head* WAY too easy. I am studying History, among other things. Mostly History though. *g*  
**Sabercrazy** - Yeah, I've seen the interview as well. Believe me, I LOVE Samuel L. Jackson, hell, I WORSHIP that man, but for once I have to say that he's crazy. I mean, purple? A Bad@$$ colour? Please! *shakes head* He's really three fries short of a Happy Meal... And I'm sorry to disagree, but a purple lightsaber NEVER looks impressive. Trust me, I tried it in Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy. It looks rather un-impressive. And no, Legolas isn't smart, but we knew that.  
**JustJordy** - Uhm, yes, you have? I mean, you have seen me leave them alone for this long if you have read AEFAE. Legolas got to Aragorn there after 19 chapters, and here they've been seperated only for 8. Thanks for the compliment, but several people have come up with wolves, including - of course - C&S. And I think Siri had some too, and Thundera Tiger, and several other people. *g* Thanks nonetheless.   
**Salara** - *g* Die Schlittenfahrt war toll, danke der Nachfrage. Wir hatten jede Menge Spass. Es gab auch keine gebrochenen Arme, Beine, Haelse usw. Elrond waere stolz auf uns gewesen! LOL, Aragorn 'kuschelt mit seinem Gaul'? Na ja, ich meine, der Gaul hat ihm doch das Leben gerettet und so weiter ... okay, du hast Recht. Er ist ein wenig seltsam, unser lieber Ranger. *g* Und Ja: Aragorn koennte in Zukunft wirklich Probleme haben, sein 'Schwert zu ziehen'.*anzuegliches Grinsen* Ich schwoere, ich waere da nie auf falsche Gedanken gekommen! Haettest du nichts gesagt... Ach, und: Ich habe die Faeden nicht in der Hand. Das ist alles die Scchuld von meinem Alter Ego. Ich bin, wie immer, unschuldig. *g*  
**Kikyo** - *waves back* Hi yourself! Well, what can I say ... thank you? It's great to hear that you've enjoyed my other stories; it's always nice to hear what people think about the weird things I come up with. Like the Leafie thing. I didn't think it overly funny, but most of you guys seem to enjoy it. *shrugs* Humour is a wondrous thing. So, thank you very much for the review! *huggles*  
**Snow-Glory** - Ah well, that depends on what you call 'nice'. I mean, there are LOTS of different definitions out there, and I'm sure one of them would fit the situation perfectly. *g* But no, he isn't going to be very nice to him to be honest. Don't worry, I won't hurt Aragorn much, at least not now. All these people screaming for ranger pain and angst and whatever forget about the little fact that someone needs to look after Legolas right now. *shakes head* Do they really want that stubborn elf to die? I hope not!  
**Lina** - Lina! *huggles* Great to have you back! I missed you! I do hope your friend is better!? I've never been involved in a car accident before and have no desire to either, so I hope she's okay! *g* You're right of course! Aragorn goes out alone for some reason, and comes back IN PIECES!! *snickers* Stupid ranger. He never learns. LOL, that crocodile hunter scene was most convincing! I could almost hear the Australian accent! I'll admit though that it wasn't very nice was Estel did. I mean, it's understandable, but rather rude. Plus, it scared the poor evil dudes. *huggles crying guard* Don't worry, you won't die - now. *evil cackle*  
**Bailey** - Uhm, no, Reran won't find him. And trust me, Legolas will have other problems than wrapping up Aragorn's arm. No, it's not as bad as Legolas' arm in the last story, it's not even broken. It's just a little bit mauled and maimed, but otherwise perfectly alright. *evil grin* Hmm, 'Mirkwood' isn't going to go anywhere, mainly because they're sensible, intelligent elves that don't run off into random directions. *g*  
**Tapetum Lucidum - **Oh, it was the Superbowl yesterday? I completely forgot - then again, I never really knew. I was never very interested in football of any kind, be it the American version or not. Oh, see? Your SON, as in male! They're all like that! He's just seven and already as bad as our favourie duo! I on the other hand managed to get to the bottom of a _huge_ hill (*g*) without a scratch! Several times! Yay Nili! Hmm, you might be right. If a cave troll ate Teonvan, it wouldn't be hungry anymore. Then again, it might get sick. I would if I had eaten something as disgusting as Teonvan. *shudders* And I agree. Legolas' concern for his friend is quite adorable. Other people would call it stupid, but... *evil grin*  
**Marbienl** - No, I didn't know that charming lady. I mean, I think I've heard of her, but I am usually not very interested in such ... psychos. *g* Unless they're my OCs, of course. LOL, really? You like a vulnerable Estel? Well, now that you mention it - it explains quite a lot, really... *g* The only thing is that you're obsessed with nightmares and stuff; there are actually very few times when it actually is possible to insert such scenes - without complerely ruining the plot, that is. But I have to defend him for once. He didn't attack the wolves; they attacked him. It's their own fault. I also have to say that there will be no Aragorn torture for quite a few chapters yet. Sorry about that. And I didn't say that they'd meet in Ch.14. I said they'd both be in chapters 14/15 and that Aragorn would find Legolas, find him, not meet with him or his captors. That's a difference. *g*  
  
**Alright, and I'm off to the Dutch-Spanish wars during the Seventeenth Century now. There are a bloody awful lot of them! A wonderful topic, don't tell me. *g***  
  



	16. Friends And Enemies

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**  
A/N:  
  
*shoots FF.net suspicious looks* I have the very bad feeling it will screw up my formatting once more. I'll try to keep some space between everything, but does anybody have an idea why it does that? I have tried using both the Netscape Composer and Dreamweaver, and FF.net still screws it up. *sighs sadly* It hatessss me, yessss it doessss, precioussss... If anyone has the slightest idea why FF.net does what it does, I would be eternally grateful if you'd tell me - several moments at least anyway, which is already quite long for me. *g*  
  
I am also sorry for posting a day later than I wanted, but there was simply no way I could have posted yesterday. Do you have these days as well, these days when you can hardly open your eyes and spend most of the day half-asleep? Well, that was yesterday; I couldn't even have found my way to the computer I think. I didn't sleep too much last week and simply had to catch up, sorry.  
**  
**And concerning Aragorn's intelligence or rather the lack thereof: Well, he was ... uhm, well, I mean... *hangs head* As I said: It was incredibly stupid. But it was understandable (that's at least what I think), and you really must stop telling Aragorn what an idiot/reckless person/crazy ranger he is. I had to force him to come out of my closet and be in this chapter. Well, actually I have to force him and the others every time, but... *evil grin*  
  
Very well, here's chapter ... what ... 16? Yeah, it's 16 already. *shakes head* Weird. Time flies when you're having fun - well, WE are having fun, I guess. Legolas, Aragorn and several other men/elves/horses/squirrels/trees wouldn't agree, I think... *g* They have no sense of humour. None at all.  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
**

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Chapter 16  
  
Later Teonvan would not be able to tell from where the figure had appeared. It was simply there all of a sudden; a dark-clad shadow with its hands raised at its sides in a gesture of surrender.  
  
A self-satisfied smirk began to spread on the human commander's face, but it faded quickly when he took a closer look at the stranger's face. Even though the hood of his cloak was pulled over his head, there was more than enough of his face visible to see that he was not an elf. It was a man, hardly more than twenty years of age, with dark hair and the coldest, angriest grey eyes Teonvan had ever seen.  
  
For a few moments, the young man and Teonvan and his men merely stared at each other, neither side saying a word, before the human commander grinned and stated the obvious.  
"You are not an elf, boy."  
  
Aragorn blinked, still trying to get a hold of his anger and hatred that were beginning to burn a hole into his chest – hopefully not literally.  
"Neither are you."  
  
Cendan had spent the last few hours torn between overwhelming anger, mounting contempt for his much beloved superior and grudging respect for the elf since he had so adamantly refused to give Teonvan any satisfaction at all. All in all, he was in an exceptionally bad mood, and yet he found that his lips wanted to twist into a smile. It had been the obvious thing to say, but he had the distinct feeling that Teonvan wouldn't appreciate the other man's answer.  
  
Teonvan's smile faded entirely and he took a step forward, his dark eyes boring into Aragorn's.  
"You don't want to try and convince us that you dropped in here by accident?"  
  
Aragorn looked at him evenly.  
"Would you believe anything I said?"  
  
"No," Teonvan grinned. "Not a word." He nodded at the sword at the other man's belt. "You heard me earlier. Put down your weapons and surrender or your friend here will pay the price. As will you."  
  
For a second, the ranger simply looked at the brown haired man, contempt and hate radiating off him. Teonvan, however, was not willing to wait any longer, and when he turned back to the barely conscious elf, who was oblivious to what was happening around him, with the knife still in hand, Aragorn relented. He slowly reached for his quiver and removed it from his back, letting it fall into the snow a moment later. His sword and remaining daggers followed quickly, but the ranger spared the small mountain of weapons at his feet only a glance before he once again locked eyes with Teonvan, outwardly extremely unimpressed by his lack of means to defend himself.  
  
The human commander began to grin again and nodded at two of his men to seize the weapons and their owner. He sauntered back to his listless elven prisoner and stopped at his side, playing with the swiftly cooling knife in his hands.  
"So _you _are the mysterious elven warrior who came to rescue his dear friend here and slew a wolf pack on his way? I must admit I expected someone a little bit … older. Not to mention an elf, of course."  
  
Aragorn divided his attention between Legolas' motionless form and the brown haired man for whom his feelings of hatred were even growing, something he had thought impossible.  
"I am, apparently, old enough to avoid your scouts and sentinels." He raised a mocking eyebrow, ignoring the two men who had taken up his weapons and were now stepping forward to grab his arms. "You need better guards if nothing else. I would recommend men that aren't deaf or blind, and if they were more intelligent than a bunch of cave trolls, it would also be helpful, I believe."  
  
The commander's grin seemed to freeze, and the knuckles of the hand that was holding the knife began to show white through the skin.  
"You are just as cocky as he is, that much is sure," he said slowly, nodding at the two men to bring him closer who had taken hold of the young ranger's arms by now. "It is unfortunate that your little elven friend here is not really … inclined to greet you, but I am sure we could find something to rouse him. It will be much more interesting with a larger audience, don't you think? The more the merrier I always say!"  
  
Aragorn fought against the hands of the two men restraining him and looked at the man in front of him with a glare so fierce that it would have made his father proud.  
"Leave him alone! You are a coward, nothing more, nothing less! I am here; what more do you want?"  
  
"Answers, boy," Teonvan replied, taking a step closer to the younger man. "Who are you? Are you alone? How did you find us?"  
  
Aragorn clenched his jaw and merely stared at the other man, projecting an air that very clearly said that he did not intend to answer even one of the man's questions. Teonvan avoided his eyes after a moment, sighed sadly and turned back around to the bound elf. With a mocking, fake smile he reached out, took up the blonde elf's head by the hair and peered into the pale, nearly unconscious face of his prisoner, whose eyes stayed closed once again, to his substantial dissatisfaction.  
  
"It would really be a shame to permanently mar such a pretty face," Teonvan stated lazily. "If someone were to deepen these cuts a little, they might scar. Or if someone were to get the idea to cut out one of his eyes – that would seriously damage the symmetry of things, wouldn't it? I mean, such a nice face with only one eye would be…"  
  
"Strider, a Ranger of the North. I am alone, and I was lucky," Aragorn ground out and glared at the man, tensing his muscles and very tempted to break free of the hold his guards had on him. He knew that these men wanted Legolas alive, but that didn't mean that they had to keep him unscarred or unspoilt. This man would do what he had just threatened to Legolas; even a blind or dumb person could see that. The gleam that had been kindled in the human's dark eyes was clearly visible and unambiguous. He would love to cut out one of Legolas' eyes, about that Aragorn was certain.  
  
"And if you lay one more finger on him, _I _will cut out _your _eye. No," the ranger added as an afterthought, deadly serious, "make that both eyes."  
  
He saw the blow coming but had no way of avoiding it held fast between the two guards as he was, and so he merely gritted his teeth and did his best not to show any signs of discomfort as the brown haired man's fist connected with the side of his face and snapped his head to the side. So this man wasn't only a sick psychopath, he concluded darkly, he was an uncontrolled sick psychopath. Not a very good combination now that he thought about it.  
  
Before he could dwell on all the implications of that combination though, the man grasped his chin and pulled his head up, a benign smile on his face that Aragorn did not like one bit.  
  
"Yes," Teonvan smiled, "I see that you do indeed know our elven friend here. Yet you should learn what he has finally come to understand: No-one talks to me in this manner. Not our little elf here, and not you, ranger. Why have you followed us? What does our guest mean to you? You are a man. He is an elf. Why would you want to help him?"  
  
"I would try to explain it had I any hope whatsoever that you would understand even a single word I say," Aragorn smiled back, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't helping his situation at all. As little as he liked the idea of deliberately antagonising a so obviously unstable man as this one, it was a lot better to keep his attention fixed on him than on Legolas. "Alas, I fear it would be a vain endeavour and those are the ones I never…"  
  
This time he was just as helpless to dodge the blow as the last, and as he had anticipated it took the roaring in his head that promised to become a wonderful headache in the near future significantly longer to die down to bearable levels. That was what happened when people mistook your face for a flour sack, a wry voice in his head whispered mockingly.  
  
"I am most tempted to tie you right next to your friend and demonstrate a few things to you," Teonvan said softly as he watched the dark haired ranger shake his head from side to side. This was indeed becoming more and more interesting by the second. Yet there was no reason to enjoy everything you had on one day, was there? "Unfortunately," he added quickly, "we don't have time for that right now."   
  
He nodded at the two guards behind the younger man. "Get him over there and tie him up. We'll have to wait for the captain to return until we can decide what to do with him." He gestured at two more men. "You two: Search the area. Make sure that he really is alone and bring his horse here. He didn't walk here, that's for sure." He once again began to grin broadly as he turned back around and added, "Now, however, I have something to finish."  
  
For a moment, Aragorn allowed himself to be dragged away by his guards, still a little bit stunned from the second blow, but then the meaning of the human commander's words sank in. His eyes grew wide, and he desperately tried to twist around in the men's grip. Legolas was hurt badly already, and if this man continued with what he had been doing earlier he might very well die after all, elf or not. Bodies had their limits, be they elven, human, dwarven, hobbit or otherwise.  
  
Before Teonvan could close the distance between himself and the pole though, a dark haired, even-faced, menacing figure moved to intercept him, stepping forward out of the tight circle of the men with the menacing calmness that would have given even a Nazgûl cause for envy.  
"No, sir. You haven't."  
  
Teonvan raised his eyebrows, his dark eyes darkening even further.  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I said, no, sir," Cendan repeated with a calmness and self-assuredness that never failed to enrage the brown haired commander. "It is enough."  
  
Teonvan took a deep breath, obviously reining in his temper.  
"You will step aside, Lieutenant. We've had this discussion before."  
  
"Yes, sir," the dark haired man replied, not at all intimidated by his superior's murderous look. "And no, I will not step aside." Teonvan obviously wanted to say something, but Cendan cut him off almost immediately. "You were right, and your … methods were successful. I'll admit that. But this is enough. I am not prepared to face Captain Reran or our lord bearing the news that the elf is dead because you did not know when to stop, and neither are the men."  
  
"He won't die," the commander shook his head. "Elves are tough, or so they say."  
  
"Sir," Teonvan repeated, torn between annoyance and burning anger that seemed to fill his heart every time he had to talk to this insufferable excuse for a soldier. "Can't you see it? He is already seriously injured! If you don't stop it now, we will have a dead prisoner on our hands and will all join him on his journey to the next world once we get back home!"  
  
Aragorn barely registered what the men were saying, for all his attention was fixed on his elven friend who appeared to have lost consciousness for good now. A part of him was glad that Legolas did not have to be aware of what was happening around him, but another, much larger part was worried out of his mind. Considering the way he looked, it could only mean that the elf's body was beginning to shut down in order to conserve strength and energy…  
  
He blinked when his sight on his friend was suddenly obscured by the figure of one of the men, who had stepped closer to the pole the elf was bound to and lifted a hand to his face.  
"Uhm, sir?" he said after a few moments. "I think he's not breathing properly." He frowned and leaned closer to the fair haired being. "In fact, I don't think he's breathing at all."  
  
"What?!"  
  
It was probably the only time anyone had seen Cendan lose his composure, but since everyone else in the clearing lost theirs too, they were too busy to properly savour the moment. In a matter of seconds most of the camp was gathered round the unconscious form of the elf, except for Aragorn who was desperately trying to shake off the hold the two men had on him. All the humans were talking at once, and had Legolas been conscious, he would most probably have been greatly amused by the panic and fear that was visible on most of the men's faces at the prospect of his death.  
  
It was quickly established that the man had been incorrect and that the prisoner was still breathing, but labouredly and increasingly shallowly. Still, when Teonvan reached out and tipped the elf's head up, a barely suppressed gasp went through the men when they saw his blue lips and the chalky white colour on his face. Cendan grasped his knife hilt more tightly and swore by all the Gods he or even his mother's people worshipped that he would kill Teonvan should the elf really die. They would all be dead as well in that case, so he might as well die in the knowledge that he had rid the world of such a despicable creature.  
  
"Your orders, sir?" he asked evenly, enjoying the barely controlled terror on Teonvan's face enormously.   
  
The commander blinked and took a deep breath, obviously not knowing what to do. He had had some fun, yes, but that was hardly an excuse for the elf to die on him now!  
"Where is that small lad, the one wearing the eternally frightened expression? He is rather skilled in herb lore, isn't he? I want him here, now!"  
  
Cendan suppressed a rather evil grin.  
"Lybran's cousin." He waited for a hopeful expression to spread on Teonvan's face before he added, "He died in the orc attack."  
  
Teonvan's face fell and the men once again began to gesticulate and talk at volumes that would have impressed a cave troll, when suddenly an alarmed cry could be heard from somewhere to the left of the pole. The dark haired ranger had managed to wrench his left arm out of one of the men's grasp and was in the process of dragging his remaining guard into the direction of the unconscious elf and the rest of the men, intent on reaching his friend. He was remarkably successful for a moment until two more men rushed forward and helped the other two restrain him.  
  
Aragorn, however, was not prepared to give up so easily.  
"Listen to me!" He tried to escape the four men that were surrounding him, without much success however. "Look at him! He is _dying_! Let me attend to him! I am a healer, let me help him!"  
  
Teonvan turned around, an eyebrow raised mockingly.  
"You? A healer? You are a child!"  
  
"My age is not important!" the younger man hissed, obviously hard-pressed not to lose his temper. "What _is _important is that he will die if nothing is done! How would your commander like that? How would your _lord _like that? What will he do to you when you return with a body instead of a prisoner? If you don't let me help him, you will definitely find out, that I promise you by Elbereth's stars!"  
  
Teonvan merely continued staring at him, and that was the moment Cendan decided that he had allowed this … moron to have control over the situation long enough. If he wanted to discipline him afterwards, fine, but he wouldn't allow the prisoner to die if there was any way at all to save him. Besides, he was rather sure that Captain Reran would rather cut off one of his own arms than allow his second-in-command to discipline one of his men.   
  
With a quick move of his hand Cendan ordered the guards to release the ranger who, once the men had let go of him, rushed over to the pole so quickly that all he was able to see was a dark-clad blur moving past him. Teonvan's eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets as the young man shot past him, and he whirled around to look at Cendan, red-faced and looking as if he was about to suffer a stroke, a possibility the dark haired lieutenant was more than willing to accept.  
  
"Lieutenant Cendan! You are forgetting your place! I am in command of this camp, not you!"  
  
"And I, Commander Teonvan," the younger man replied icily, knowing full well that, this time, he had the men's support, "am in charge of the prisoner. I will not return home in shame and failure because you couldn't control yourself! You heard the ranger: If nothing is done, the elf will die! Everybody can see that!"  
  
Teonvan answered something, in a tone that sounded not quite as assured as it had only moment ago, but Aragorn was far too busy to notice anything except his elven friend. The humans surrounding the post had parted to let him pass and were now standing all around him, watching his every move. He heard a sudden, shrill neighing through the haze that seemed to envelop his mind, but he didn't turn around and only noticed that some men left and headed into the direction of the sounds.  
  
For a second, Aragorn simply looked at the unconscious elf still bound to the pole, his heart overcome with guilt, fear and about a dozen other emotions. Ilúvatar, he should have been here sooner, and if he hadn't forgotten his stupid dagger, these people wouldn't have started anything like this in the first place…   
  
The slowly sinking sun broke through the heavy clouds, her light touching the side of Legolas' face and emphasising his unnatural paleness, and Aragorn forced himself to snap out of his trance. As he had told the men, he was a healer, and if he kept behaving like a scared boy, his patient would die, that was as certain as the daily sunrise. Alright, he thought shakily, trying not to think of what he would do if Legolas truly died. He could do this.  
  
Aragorn quickly took another step closer and pushed what was left of Legolas' shirt to the side, feeling how his heart grew cold and the icy hand of panic wrapped itself around his throat, threatening to suffocate him. Now that he was standing in front of his friend, he could see the wounds in all their glory, shining red against the elf's pale skin. The cuts were deep, the man found quickly, but had actually bled little since the blade had been hot. Hatred once again welled up inside of him, but Aragorn pushed it aside. Hatred would distract him, hatred would make him weak, hatred would not help Legolas, he repeated like a mantra as he continued to examine the rest of his friend's body. There were bruises all over Legolas' torso and face as well, but that hardly explained the state he was in at the moment…  
  
The young ranger took a deep breath and pushed the fabric further to the side, already knowing what he would see. There, on the left side of the elf's torso was the wound he had watched the brown haired man inflict on his friend, the wound he had caused when he had driven the knife into his elven prisoner's chest. The man had been careful not to come too close to the fair haired being's heart, of course, Aragorn thought contemptuously as his hands hovered over the deep wounds, he wouldn't have wanted to risk killing his prisoner right away but rather inflict as much pain as…  
  
The thought died in his mind when Legolas took another far too shallow breath which was closely followed by a painful-sounding cough, and Aragorn felt how the panic that had wrapped itself around his chest tightened its hold on him. For a moment he simply stared at the wound, shivering slightly when he thought he felt a faint, almost undetectable breath of air against his hand, before he abruptly allowed the slashed shirt to fall back into place and whirled to the side to look at the man closest to him.  
  
"Cut him loose. Now!"  
  
The human hastily avoided the young man's burning gaze and looked at his superiors for confirmation, but moved to obey when Cendan gave him a curt nod. While two of the men were busy cutting through the bonds that kept Legolas tied to the post, Aragorn took a second to survey the situation.   
  
There were still enough men surrounding him to make any attempt to escape impossible – not that that would have been necessary, Aragorn thought darkly. He had no intention of going anywhere right now, not with Legolas in such a state. Several men however had returned to other activities, and on the far side of the camp five men were very busy avoiding being smashed to bits by the hooves of a very large, very black and very angry elven horse. Aragorn found himself wishing that Ráca would simply shatter a few of the men's heads. No, he amended as he watched the men cut through the rough ropes binding his friend to the pole, make that all the men's heads.  
  
A second later the last rope was cut, and the elf's body started to collapse immediately, folding like a puppet whose strings had been severed. Before the two men could even reach out to grasp their prisoner, Aragorn had sprung forward and caught his friend, lowering him gently to the ground as close to the fire as possible. He quickly checked Legolas' wounds again and merely swallowed hard when he placed a hand against his friend's neck, finding the pulse far too rapid and fluttery. The bluish colour that had crept over his face and lips had even intensified, and that was the one thing that was nearly enough to send him into a state of mindless panic. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew exactly what these symptoms meant.  
  
Aragorn carefully brushed a strand of blonde hair away from the elf's bruised forehead and looked up, fixing one of the humans standing around him with a stare so dark and penetrating that the man would later swear that the ranger had tried to burn a third eye socket into his forehead.  
  
"I need blankets and water, and when I'm finished here I'll need a tent." The man hesitated for a moment, looking at his superiors again, and Aragorn glared at him, silver eye glittering dangerously in a way that could only be described as deadly. "Go!"  
  
Without even waiting to see if the man was complying (which he did with a speed that would have impressed even the most subservient servant) he turned to the left, fixing the same penetrating stare on the two men who appeared to be the ones in charge here. He didn't want to spend time and energy figuring out who was in charge of whom and what here, and so he simply addressed both of the men.  
  
"I need one of my bags. It's with my horse."  
  
"Why?" Teonvan asked slyly, inwardly still fuming at Cendan. He knew that the men were on the young lieutenant's side and that he could do nothing now, but he would make sure he paid. As would the elf for having the nerve of trying to die on him now and the ranger for not coming out sooner.   
  
Aragorn took a deep breath and reminded himself that he mustn't antagonise these people, for Legolas' sake.   
"Because my herbs are in there. I need a herb the Elves call _harucholor_. I…"  
  
If the young ranger had thought the younger, black haired man to be more reasonable than the other, his impression was quickly dispelled when Cendan's eyes darkened and he glowered at the man kneeling next to the motionless body of the elf.  
"Do you take us for fools?" he asked sharply. "I know the herb you speak of! It is deadly!"  
  
Aragorn blinked in confusion before understanding was slowly creeping into his eyes, yet the impatience in the grey depths did not diminish. Every second he spent talking was one second more Legolas went without help; did these people want him to survive or not?  
"It can be deadly for humans because it causes the heart to slow down if you don't know how to dose it properly. For elves it works quite differently though. Their bodies are stronger, and you would need several plants to overdose one of their kind."  
  
"Why should we believe you?" Teonvan asked scornfully. "It could be a pretence, and you could be planning to get to your bags for an entirely different reason. Why should we trust you when you say that you need it to treat him?"   
  
"Why?" Aragorn repeated incredulously, looking at the human commander with wide eyes. He shot to his feet, ignoring the crossbows the two guards had still trained on him and Legolas and took a step into Teonvan's direction who flinched back, contrary to Cendan who stood his ground and returned his glare dispassionately.  
  
"Why? Well, let me you why! I need the herb because you, after you got bored of beating him and cutting patterns into his skin, stabbed my friend into the side! Because he is suffocating right now, because you injured his lung! Because it will seal the wound, close it and hopefully save his life! That is why!"  
  
He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes.  
"I might have phrased it ambiguously earlier. Let me make it perfectly clear: You either give me my bags with all the herbs I need or he dies. It is as simple as that."  
  
Teonvan traded a short look with Cendan, and for once the same realisation could be read on both their faces: This one would be trouble. Finally the brown haired commander gave the men that had more or less managed to restrain the black horse a sharp nod and they began to try and remove the bags from the still rather uncooperative animal's back. A moment later he turned back to Aragorn who was still staring at him, something that made the man feel highly self-conscious.  
  
"Alright," he said, nodding at the young ranger, "You get your bags. But let _me _make one thing perfectly clear: If he dies, you die."  
  
To his surprise, the younger man began to smile, but it was a dark, threatening smile that caused inexplicable shudders to race down Teonvan's back.  
  
"No," Aragorn said very softly, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the other man's, "If he dies, I will make sure you die before I do. You can count on it."  
  
The disconcerting smile was still on the ranger's face when one of the men who had been busy restraining the horse stepped closer, holding the young man's bags with one hand and his obviously broken nose with the other. The sight of the man's bleeding face caused the smile on Aragorn's face to widen for a moment before he hurriedly snatched one of the bags with his left hand and whirled around, back to the unconscious elf. A small voice in his head whispered insistently that he wasn't helping his situation by talking back to the men like this, but he couldn't bring himself to care right now. As long as they provided him with the means of helping his friend, he didn't care in the slightest what they might do to him later.  
  
He let the bag with bandages, herbs and healing utensils drop to the ground and knelt down next to the still elf, quickly looking for the water and blankets one of the men had deposited next to Legolas. He hastily began to unfold the heavy woollen covers and carefully wrapped his elven friend into them, trying not to move him too much in the process which was impossible of course. Even the most inexperienced healer would see that the elf's body was well on its way into shock, and if there was one thing a person whose body was going into shock did not need, it was to lie bare-chested in the snow.   
  
After he had made sure there were several layers of blankets between the elf and the ground, Aragorn forced himself not to upend the bag in his haste to get to the utensils he needed. He shifted through the bag and spread all the things he could possibly need out on the blanket next to him, cursing softly under his breath when his right arm protested against the movements. For a fleeting, horrible moment he thought he had forgotten the herb, but then he discovered it at the bottom of the linen sack, hidden under a large pile of bandages. Vowing by all the Valar he could think of that he would thank his father for insisting that he always kept a well-stocked healing bag close to him (something Elrond had taken to when his foster son had become old enough to join his brothers' hunting expeditions), he grabbed the delicate, light green, brittle herbs and placed them next to the other items.  
  
A moment long he could only stare at the small mountain of bandages and other healing utensils, paralysing fear wrapping itself around his heart. Nobody knew much about such an injury; all that was known was that this condition could be caused by an injury to the patient's chest, either by a blow to the ribs or a stab, arrow or crossbow bolt wound. Not even his elven father knew with absolute certainty what exactly happened when the chest was pierced either by a bone fragment or a sharp object; all he had been able to determine during his many ages as a healer was that it somehow disturbed the body's precarious balance and allowed air to enter the chest cavity, preventing the lungs from working properly.  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath, desperately wishing his father to be here. Legolas had been lucky from what he could see, if one could call such a thing lucky at all. The knife had apparently not pierced the lung itself but only caused it to cease working properly, and if he was able to close the wound and seal it, therefore restoring the former condition, it might be enough to give the lung the opportunity to heal and start functioning again. Then again, another part of him reminded him darkly, it might not, and then he would be helpless to do anything but sit back and watch his best friend die. He had neither the equipment nor the experience to drain the air from the chest cavity as he had watched his father do once, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it anyway with an injured right arm.  
  
The young ranger shook his head forcefully and reached for the water bottle one of the men had brought, beginning to clear the stab wound. He could almost watch Legolas grow paler, prompting him to work faster and push all his emotions into a dark, secluded part of his mind. As if in a trance he cleared the wound and reached for the small bunch of _harucholor_, taking up two sprigs after a moment's hesitation and wetting them with a little water. He would have liked to use three or even four sprigs, but apart from helping any wound to seal and heal quickly the herb also lowered the blood pressure and slowed the heart rate, and that was the one thing Legolas would not be able to survive now. All this had already put a great strain on the elf's system, and if his blood pressure were to be lowered even more, he would very likely die.  
  
Putting the herb aside for a few moments to give it time to react to the water, he took up the small case containing the slender mithril needles his father had given him when he had turned sixteen with the words that he was "old enough to patch himself up now". He didn't look forward to stitching up anyone's wound with a barely functioning right hand, least of all Legolas', but there was nothing he could do about that.   
  
Aragorn quickly found himself cursing the humans in all the tongues he knew as he started sewing the edges of the wound together. The hot blade had caused the skin to redden and blister, therefore causing the elf considerable pain every time the needle in the young ranger's hand pierced the burnt skin. There was nothing worse than stabbing a needle repeatedly into burnt skin, a small voice inside the man's skull reminded him teasingly as he tried to ignore the soft sounds of pain that Legolas couldn't hold back in his unconscious state. Aragorn shook his head again, flicking a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. He _knew _that, he thought irritated, but he had no choice! He had to sew this wound, otherwise air would continue to enter the chest and Legolas would suffocate!  
  
Finally, after an eternity, Aragorn tied off the last stitch and eyed his handiwork. Well, he thought darkly as he quickly placed the herbs on top of the stitches and began to wrap the wound, his father would not be very impressed. His stitches couldn't compete with the Lord of Rivendell's even on one of his better days, and today was certainly anything but. Besides, he couldn't even use both his hands to their full extent, so the result was as he had expected: Irregular and far from perfect.  
  
He took a deep breath and fastened the edge of the bandage, peering into Legolas' pale face and sending a fervent prayer to Elbereth Gilthoniel that the _harucholor _would work as it should. If it didn't and the wound wasn't properly sealed, air would continue to stream into the blonde elf's chest cavity and he would die a slow, agonising death. Aragorn searched his friend's unconscious face for any sign that he might be breathing easier or that he blue colour might be diminishing, but found none, of course. It was far too early anyway, he reminded himself as filled the small kettle he had taken out of the bag several hours earlier, or so it felt. He quickly filled it with water and placed the athelas next to it to have it at hand when the water started to boil. The herb would need time to start working, he told himself firmly. He would have to wait.  
  
He turned back from the fire and looked at his friend's face, gingerly reaching out to touch a cold cheek just below the blood-crusted cut that covered most of this side of Legolas' face.  
"Listen to me, stubborn elf," he whispered softly, "Listen to me carefully, for this is very important! If you awake later and cannot remember my words, I shall be very upset."   
  
Aragorn stared at the pale face of his elven friend, leaning a little closer as he switched to Elvish, both so that the men wouldn't be able to understand what he was saying and because he was somehow hoping that Legolas would respond to words spoken in the Grey Tongue.  
_"Si ú-firithach, heniach nin? Ae cerich, degithon le a-chaim nín."_  
  
He tried to give Legolas the _look _to emphasise his words, but failed miserably when his eyes took in his friend's still far too pale, bruised and cut face. There was no indication that the elf had heard what he had been telling him, for which he was mostly thankful. He would need to treat the rest of the elf's injuries, and it was better by far if Legolas was unconscious. He still remembered the burns he had suffered when they had visited Lake-town a few months ago, and the faint echo of the incredible pain almost caused him to wince openly. No, it was _much _better if Legolas was sleeping while he was stitching up these cuts. With a sigh, he took up the athelas and threw it into the small pot of now boiling water. He might as well get started.  
  
Almost an hour later, Aragorn sat back on his haunches, barely suppressing a shiver that raced through him due to cold, worry and exhaustion. He had just cleaned the last of Legolas' wounds, namely the cuts on his face, after cleaning and bandaging almost every single square inch on the elf's chest. He had stitched half a dozen of the deepest cuts and had consented himself to leaving the rest to heal on their own, both because they were not as deep and because he knew that Legolas would be in a lot of pain anyway when he awoke. There was no need to add to it by stitching burnt skin if it wasn't absolutely necessary. He had opted for not using any more of the _harucholor _on these cuts, even though he had been more than tempted. The danger of lowering Legolas' blood pressure was too high to merit even the herb's sealing properties.   
  
The man took a deep breath and covered his friend's upper body with the last blanket. He reached out with his left hand – his right one was beginning to give him serious trouble due to all the delicate movements he had forced on it during the past few hours – and placed stiff fingers on the fair haired elf's throat. After a few seconds he closed his eyes and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Legolas' pulse was still too fast for one of the Firstborn, but it was slower than it had been an hour ago, thank the Valar.   
  
Aragorn opened his eyes again and moved his hand upwards, letting it rest against the side of the elf's face. It might be his imagination of course, and he would need to wait for several more hours until he could be sure whether or not his treatment had been successful, but he was almost sure that Legolas' colour had improved as well. His lips didn't look as blue anymore, and his breathing seemed a little bit easier.  
  
He smiled, pressing his hand against the other's cheek.  
"Thank you," he whispered softly, not really knowing himself if he was addressing Legolas or the Vala who had shown them mercy.  
  
A deep voice ripped him out of his musings, almost causing him to jump in surprise. He had completely forgotten about his surroundings during these past few hours.  
"Will he live?"  
  
Aragorn looked up, having to blink twice before he identified the man standing above him. It was the younger of the two commanders who somehow managed to almost blend into the growing twilight all around them. The young ranger blinked again. When exactly had the sun begun to sink below the horizon? He must have missed that particular event.  
  
"I don't know," he answered tiredly. "If he survives the next few hours, he will live, yes."  
  
The other man looked at him emotionlessly and finally stepped to the side, revealing two men who were standing behind him, crossbows raised and ready to fire.  
"You wanted a tent, ranger."  
  
Aragorn nodded, feeling numbed and a little incredulous. Here he was, surrounded by men who had tortured his friend and were most likely planning to kill him, and yet he was having quite a normal conversation. What a life he was leading…  
"Yes. If he isn't kept warm, he will die before the moon has risen."  
  
Cendan nodded as well.  
"Come."  
  
Aragorn gave the dark haired man a long look and finally inclined his head, gathering his scattered healing utensils and stuffing them back into his bag. A few moments later he stood to his feet, swaying slightly under the unconscious elf's weight he held in his arms. Legolas, he decided wryly, had not weighted as much when he had last carried him. That was what he would tell him once that stubborn elf awoke, along with a few other things that urgently needed to be addressed…  
  
The lieutenant gave him an unreadable look and turned on his heel, walking off into the direction of the tent that had been made ready for them. Aragorn gave Legolas a quick look to make sure that he was still asleep and that moving didn't hurt him too much and began to follow the other man, trailed by the two guards who didn't take their eyes off him for a second.  
  
Walking in front of the ranger, Cendan found that he was almost disappointed that the elf would apparently survive. He wouldn't really have enjoyed it if he had died, both because he had refused to give Teonvan what he had wanted from him and because they would all die as well in that case. If the elf died, their liege would kill them all in a most unpleasant manner, that much was sure.   
  
No, Cendan thought a little bit amused, that was not the reason why he was disappointed. He would merely have _really _enjoyed it to kill Teonvan.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Night had fallen some hours ago, and the corridors of King Thranduil's palace were empty and deserted.  
  
Usually, many elves would still be about, walking to or from the Great Hall where most feasts were held, but not today. Not one elf in Mirkwood felt like celebrating anything, and the hall had remained empty and dark every evening for the past six days.  
  
Two elves, however, were not a bit unhappy about this fact as they moved stealthily down the corridors, trying to keep to the stone walls and stay away from any light source to the best of their – admittedly remarkable – abilities. It was a good thing too that virtually no elf was still wandering around the palace, because everyone who would have laid eyes on the two dark haired elves would have at least demanded to know where they were going if not have called for the palace guards.  
  
Both were packed not only with their weapons but also with numerous apparently rather heavy bags and satchels they had slung over their shoulders, and were looking more like packed mules than anything else. That appearance notwithstanding, the two elves moved quickly and soundlessly, and had soon reached the door leading to the part of the kitchens which was located in one of the wings of the palace.  
  
One of the two stepped forward and carefully opened the large double door, motioning his companion that he could follow a moment later. Both elves hurried into the dark room that became even darker when the door closed behind them. It was pitch-black, so dark that not even elven eyes could penetrate the gloom effortlessly, and that was the reason for what happened only a second later.  
  
The two elves had just taken a few steps into the room and had narrowly avoided a long wooden table when one of them crashed into something rather soft and went down with a small, shocked cry.  
  
"Elbereth!"  
  
"Ouch! That hurt, you big oaf!"  
  
"Eru, what … are you alright, Elladan?"  
  
"I don't know, brother – would you get _off_ me!!"  
  
"I would love to, stupid Noldo, but there is the small matter of your knee that is pressing into my chest!"  
  
"Who in the name of the One are you … Elrohir!"  
  
"Yes," the younger twin mumbled under his breath while he was working to ignite a small candle he had found on the table's edge. "Just a second … there we are."  
  
The wick finally caught fire and a small cone of light appeared in the darkness, revealing a rather curious picture indeed. Elrohir who was holding the candle did his best not to grin and finally gave up, deciding that this sight was amusing enough to warrant such an obvious display of amusement.  
  
Sprawled on the ground were his older brother and a silver haired elf they knew only to well, glaring daggers at each other or at least trying to since Celylith's hair had fallen over his face and obscured his eyes. The two of them had managed to entangle their limbs to an extent where it was hard to say who was pinning whom to the ground, although Elladan's knee was indeed pressing into the other elf's breastbone, that much was true.  
  
Elrohir cocked his head to the side and raised an amused eyebrow suggestively.  
"I am not interrupting anything, am I?"  
  
"Elrohir!" Celylith gasped, trying to regain his breath which had been so rudely knocked out of him. "Just what are you implyin…"  
  
"I don't care what he wants to imply," Elladan grumbled angrily as he tried to untangle himself, "All I know is that I will _kill _him if he doesn't help us up, Elbereth help me!"  
  
"Once you two manage to untwist yourselves, of course," the younger twin grinned evilly, but reached down and grabbed his brother's hand, trying to pull him to his feet. "I am rather tempted to leave you here and get some people to have a look at the two of you. Preferably your father, my Lord Celylith, and I am rather sure King Thranduil would be most interested as well in this ... unique display of I-don't-really-know-what."  
  
"If you do that," Celylith ground out, taking an easier breath as Elladan's weight was removed from his chest, "I will kill you, Elrohir. I swear by all the Valar that I will kill you, slowly."  
  
Elrohir merely continued to grin evilly, but a few seconds later the two other elves were standing on their feet, brushing off their clothes and rubbing bruised ribs. After making sure that all his limbs were still attached and that his chest hadn't caved in, Elladan turned and glared at Celylith.  
"What are you doing here, Celylith? It's the middle of the night! And these are the kitchens!"  
  
"Is that so?" the silver haired elf asked sarcastically. "Yes, now that you mention it: These _are _the kitchens, and if it's night it does explain why it's so dark."  
  
"Celylith!" Elrohir hissed, picking up the last bag Elladan had dropped during his little collision. "You know what we mean!"  
  
"I could ask the same question," the slightly younger elf retorted testily. "With the one very important difference that this is my home and you are guests of my king who are sneaking through the palace like a pair of thieves."  
  
"And it is your habit to carry provisions and your weapons with you at all times, I take it?" Elladan asked silkily.  
  
"Of course," Celylith nodded ironically and took up his bags as well. "Doesn't everyone?"  
  
The three young elves grinned at each other like elflings who had just been caught trying to play the same prank.  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Elrohir asked reproachfully. "We would have agreed to take you with us if you had only told us that you were planning the exact same thing as we! We're not that heartless, you know."  
  
"Because you would have denied everything, as I would have had you asked me," the other elf explained cheekily. "Besides, who says that I want you to 'take me with you'? I know these woods a lot better than you do, and if, and I cannot stress that word enough, _if _we should travel together, I refuse to be led by a pair of Noldor who couldn't distinguish between a fir and a pine tree!"  
  
"Trees?" Elladan asked thoughtfully. "Those are the tall, brown and green things, aren't they?"  
  
"I think so," Elrohir nodded, grinning at Celylith. "Or are they the grey, hard things that lie on the ground?"  
  
Celylith managed to hide a grin and put on a haughty expression, turning around to walk over to the doors leading to the courtyard.  
"You should contemplate applying for the position of court jesters. I will talk with my father; he might be able to convince the king to employ you."  
  
"Alright," Elrohir agreed as he and his brother followed the silver haired elf. "But let's find your troublesome prince and our equally troublesome brother first, shall we? After that we can plan our future career."  
  
Celylith grinned openly as he opened the door and stepped out of the room into the biting chill of the wind, motioning the twins to follow him which they did, their feet leaving no trace on the white, gleaming snow.  
"And what a career it would be!"  
  
Elladan closed the door behind him and was just about to retort something when a tall, slender figure stepped out of the building's shadows, moving as soundlessly as a wraith in the night.  
"An unrivalled one I am sure. I know no-one as perfectly suited for that position as you two, which your latest actions have once again proven beyond doubt."  
  
The three young elves whirled around, only to freeze on the spot when they saw who had just caught them red-handedly.  
"Lord Glorfindel," Celylith breathed horror-stricken. "A … good evening to you, my lord."  
  
Elrohir took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Glorfindel did enjoy scaring people – and especially them – far too much in his opinion.  
"That was unnecessary," he said lightly. "How did you know where to find us?"  
  
Glorfindel gave him a pitiful look, setting down several bags and a large quiver.  
"The kitchens are the easiest way to leave the palace. The doors aren't locked from the inside, it's a remote part of the building and not far from the stables. It was obvious."   
  
He arched a golden brow as he let his eyes wander over the guilty faces of the twins to finally come to rest on the young silver haired elf who seemed to be close to dying of shame, judging by the scarlet colour that was beginning to spread on his face.  
"I must say that I have been expecting you two," he nodded at the shamefaced twins, "to do something like this, but I had thought you to have more sense than them, son of Celythramir."  
  
Celylith's face flushed even more, something all elves present including he himself had thought unlikely. Why did it have to be Lord Glorfindel?  
"My lord, I…"  
  
"It was our idea, Glorfindel," Elrohir hurried to interrupt his friend. "He is not to blame."  
  
"And don't even think of trying to dissuade us from this course of action," his older brother added. "This is the only way; talking will solve nothing. Please do not come between us and finding our brother. We do not want to offend you by disobeying you directly."  
  
"But we will if we have to," Elrohir said softly and stepped next to his brother. "We will not return home without Estel."  
  
Two pairs of serious grey eyes locked with bright blue ones, and Glorfindel felt the anger in his heart fade. The twins reminded him so much of Elrond, and yet there was also much of their mother in them. Celebrían, the golden haired elf thought mournfully, had always been incredibly stubborn as well, just like her husband, and many times he had looked at the Lady of Rivendell and had seen the determined sparkle in her eyes that could now be seen in the twins'. He sighed inwardly. If the two of them were in that kind of mood, it was pointless to argue with them, that was something he had found out long ago.  
  
"You would leave Lord Thranduil's halls like this?" he asked softly. "And dishonour your father's name and your own house?"  
  
"What do you wish us to do, my lord?" Elrohir asked equally softly, but with a dark, sarcastic undertone in his voice. "To stay here and do nothing while our brother is in danger? To return home and tell our father that we have lost the Prince of Mirkwood and Isildur's heir? That we did not search for them, did not ride out to track them, did not try to help them because it would have been impolite or politically inconvenient?" He shook his head darkly and made a move to walk past the other elf towards the stables. "You insult us, my friend."  
  
Before he could take more than half a dozen steps, Glorfindel's hand shot out and halted him in mid-motion. Elrohir looked up and met the elf lord's serious, slightly amused eyes.  
"I meant to imply no such thing, young one, and I certainly did not mean to insult any of you. To be honest, I had expected nothing less of you, and would probably even have been disappointed if you had acted any other way. It would have been highly out of character." He sighed and gave a small, somewhat weary smile. "The stables are that way, I believe?"  
  
Celylith blinked quickly, having the distinct feeling that he had missed something important.  
"My lord?"  
  
Elladan merely grinned evilly.  
"_Ada _is going to kill you, you know that."  
  
Glorfindel shook his head wryly.  
"He's going to kill me anyway, and be it only because Aragorn got into trouble in the first place. I might just as well try and find him and therefore earn myself a quick death."  
  
"Spoken like a true warrior," Elrohir grinned as well now, more than relieved that they wouldn't have to go against their old tutor's wishes. "Let's go then, shall we?"  
  
Celylith forcefully shook off the surprise that had shocked him into near silence and nodded.  
"Be a little quieter then," he told Elrohir, still a little bit shocked by the events. "There are guards about, and if we truly want to escape the fate of having to face the king and my father tomorrow morning, we should try not to encounter them."  
  
"That sounds like a good plan," Glorfindel nodded darkly. "Lead the way, young one."  
  
The silver haired elf gave the other a small bow and began to lead the three Imladris elves into the direction of the stables, doing his best to keep them out of sight and away from the paths he knew the guards woudl take. If he had needed any more proof that he was walking into certain doom, it had just presented itself. To try and find Legolas and Aragorn had seemed like a very good idea some time in the very distant past. It hadn't seemed quite as good anymore after Elladan had nearly broken every single rib he called his own, and had ceased to have any appeal at all after Lord Glorfindel had appeared on the scene.  
  
Celylith shook his head hopelessly as he pressed his body against the wall of a building. He would kill Legolas and Aragorn for getting him into such a position. This was all their fault.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Cendan was very sure that his captain would become the first man to die from anger he had ever seen.   
  
Well, if he was perfectly honest, Reran wasn't truly angry; he was more furious than any other being the young lieutenant had ever laid eyes on in his whole life. And that, he thought quietly, included his lord, which meant quite a lot in his opinion.  
  
Reran looked at his lieutenant, the red colour that had marked his face only moments ago dissipating and being replaced by deathly pallor. Once in a while a shudder raced through the blonde man's body, a sign of his struggle to remain in control of his temper and not to do what he wanted to do with all his heart, namely to draw his sword and kill Teonvan in a most gruesome manner.  
  
"Please," Reran ground out, his hands balling to fists at his sides. "Please do repeat yourself, Lieutenant."  
  
Cendan's face remained an emotionless mask, but on the inside he was squirming like a worm on a fishhook. He carefully avoided looking at his superior or the tent at their backs.  
"I said, sir, that the elf will most likely survive. There is nothing to worry about."  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, Cendan knew that they had been the wrong thing to say. Reran's face paled even more and his mouth was little more than a thin line as he whirled back around and threw back the canvas that obscured the tent's entrance, his movements jerky and speaking of barely suppressed fury.  
  
"Nothing to worry about? Do not tell me what and what not to worry about, Cendan!"  
  
Cendan took a deep breath and looked past his captain into the tiny space, not even averting his eyes when a look of annoyance and contempt seemed to burn a hole into his forehead. The ranger was not happy that he and his "patient", namely the unconscious elf, were disturbed all the time, and he could even understand it. Teonvan had been here several times, and now Reran was throwing back the tent flap for the second time this evening. The dark haired man said nothing though but merely returned his attention to the elf who was lying in his arms, swathed in blankets and still looking about as lively as your average corpse.  
  
"He will live, sir," Cendan began again, asking himself where in the name of the Gods Teonvan had hidden himself. It should be the commander who had to explain this catastrophe to their superior, not him! "The elf…"  
  
"The elf, Cendan," Reran interrupted him, allowing the fabric to fall back into place, "belongs to our lord. Not to you, not to me, and certainly not to Teonvan! To return home empty-handed means certain death, all of you know that!" The captain's voice had risen to a shout, and the rest of the men who had been pretending to be part of the scenery winced. "You disobeyed a direct order, _my_ direct order! Why?!"  
  
Cendan swallowed hard. It hadn't been more than ten minutes since Reran and the three other scouts had arrived in the camp, obviously in a very bad mood for having been fooled by a single elf (or rather a ranger), but things had already gone from bad to worse. Teonvan could actually count himself lucky that darkness had fallen, offering him some cover, otherwise Reran would most likely have already killed him.  
  
The young lieutenant sighed as he realised that the blonde captain was still waiting for an answer. It went against his nature to denunciate others, even if they were Teonvan and his men, but this time he had no choice.  
"Commander Teonvan ordered it, sir," he explained softly. "He wanted to … persuade the ranger to show himself. And it worked."  
  
Reran closed his eyes and released a shaking breath, trying to keep himself from strangling someone, _anyone_. Cendan was right. He and his men had been misled by a boy while Teonvan had succeeded where they had not. That fact did nothing to ease the anger in his heart, however; in fact, it only served to fuel it.  
  
"I can see that, Cendan," he said a little bit calmer and opened his eyes again, letting them wander over his men. "I also see that you acted under orders. Be assured that I will personally inform our liege about Commander Teonvan's behaviour and demand that he is punished for his actions, as severely as possible. His actions were unprofessional, disloyal and traitorous."  
  
He turned back to his lieutenant whose face seemed to have frozen in shock, just as the faces of all the other men around them.  
"Follow me to the commander's tent, Lieutenant. We need to ... discuss this situation."  
  
Cendan nodded and waited for the other to precede him, his mind still reeling. What Reran had just said meant a slow, agonising death for Teonvan, something that didn't disturb him all that much now that he thought about it. Every captain had the right to go to their lord and demand one of his men's public punishment. Even though Teonvan was one of their liege's favourites, he would most probably grant Reran's request – their lord had always made a point of supporting his captains' decisions concerning their men.  
  
Still, this wouldn't be a normal public lashing or something like that. Reran had used the two words that were most feared by any of their soldiers, namely "disloyal" and "traitorous". Ever since Cendan could remember it had been the way of things: Men who were said to be disloyal died in agony in the dungeons of the castle; for that even the slightest suspicion or rumour was enough. If Reran stated in front of their lord that his second-in-command was a traitor to their lord and their mission, Teonvan would share that fate without doubt.  
  
Had it been any other man's life that was in question, the young man might even have felt some pity for him, but he couldn't and didn't wish to in this case. Teonvan would not be happy to hear about this new development, a small voice in his head whispered, he would not be happy at all… Cendan silenced it with a shake of his head. What would the man be able to do? There was nothing he could do but try to dissuade Reran from carrying out his threat, something he would never be able to achieve.  
  
Inwardly, Cendan began to grin as he led his captain over to Teonvan's tent. This was turning out to be a good day after all.  
  
++++++++++  
  
**TBC...**  
  
++++++++++  
  
_harucholor - 'wound-closer', a healing herb  
Si ú-firithach, heniach nin? - You will not die now, do you understand me?   
Ae cerich, degithon le a-chaim nín- If you do, I will kill you with my (own) hands  
ada - father (daddy)  
  
++++++++++  
  
_**Yes, Teonvan IS in trouble now - or is he? *evil laugh* Oh, I love being cryptic - and evil, of course, let's not forget evil - but I guess you already knew that. The next chapter will be here on Sunday at the latest, which is good too since, because of that evil paper, I am only a chapter ahead at the moment. *shakes head* Bad Nili. Bad Nili might be encouraged by a review to write faster though. *g* Very much, actually.  
  
**

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_**Additional A/N:  
  
TrinityTheSheDevil** - Uhm, yes, they do. Very much so, actually. Frighteningly much, to be perfectly honest. *g* LOL, they're evil reincarnated - meant in a loving way? Believe it or not - I know exactly what you mean... *blushes* Thank you. I like being mean, no, I LOVE it. *huggles* Thanks! Great to hear you liked the cliffy. I thought it was nice, too. *evil grin*  
**Aratfeniel** - Well, I think I am _learning_ to write torture, which is beginning to scare me, really. It says loads about my state of mind. *g* Uhm, yes, I guess Aragorn is very reckless. *shrugs* He's stupid, too, let's not forget that.  
**Elenillor** - *sobs* I know! It's horrible! I don't WANT them to be so long! I try to keep them around 15 pages, but I fail almost every single time. I really must learn to control these horrible, mean, refusing-to-shut-up characters. Thanks a lot, it's very nice to hear that you liked the story so far. If you can't read a chapter you know should already be there, try to add an "a" or "a/" to the end of the link. It almost always works. Almost. *g* Oh, and I totally agree: You can overdo the torture. Some stories are just one long torture scene, and that's just plain annoying.  
**Snow-Glory** - That is a very interesting idea. I think it would be very funny to out that into the next story, or the story after that, if I manage to hold onto some measure of sanity for so long. Celylith should definitely be the one to get them into trouble - at least once... *g* LOL, you want Aragorn to kill some of them, for "stress relief"? Now that's evil! They're men; evil men, yes, but men nonetheless! *shakes head* Really... *blushes* Thank you! I am not nearly as good as C&S though, and I never will be, I fear. For that my English is really not good enough. *shrugs*   
**Gwyn** - Well - maybe a little bit. But not all that much, he's rather annoying most of the time. And, to be honest, I don't think that I could kill _him_. I could kill a lot of other OCs though. NO problem at all. *evil grin*   
**Deana** - Yes, I guess that would be a rather ditting description. "Ow" sounds about right. *g* Oh, I love being evil...  
**Firnsarnien** - *watches her wiggle her eyebrows* Well, if you say so... And I'll admit that, yes, that last one was a cliffy. I liked it a lot. I love cliffies, you know that, right? *ducks hail of arrows* Yes, I guess you did... *g* And don't even think about trying to harm my alter ego! She's a part of me, a much beloved part, so leave her alone! Don't forget: I have my balrog Stan to protect me, and somewhere there have to be a few wargs as well... And of course you love the torture - what else is new? And yes again, there just ight be a little H/C in the next few chapters. Only a little of course... *evil grin*   
**Iverson** - FF.net is going through a ... phase right now, let's call it that, shall we? It has screwed up the ormatting of every single one of my chapters, and I just don't know what's wrong! I think I'll go insane! *shakes fist at FF.net* Die, evil website from hell, die!!! And we all knew Aragorn was doing something stupid, including Aragorn I guess. He's just like that - stupid. *shrugs* Typical male, if you ask me. Oh, and one last thing: I like you 'real' name. Very nice. *g*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - *g* So you found them, huh? Well done - they can hide themselves rather well, can't they? You really must stop calling them the "Gruesome Twosome". It's not very nice - very fitting though... *evil grin* And you're right: Estel might lose his mind, at least a little bit. That would mean that he had one in the first place though - and there's no proof for that... *g*   
**Mouse5** - But ... but ... I like my keyboard! I don't want to put it down! Its nice and black and has lots of lovely extra keys - we needssss it, preciousss! We wantsss it, my sweet! *shakes head* See what you've done! *g* I've gone to evil heights? I'll ... take that as a compliment, I think... And you seem to know Celylith rather well - I'm impressed! Then again, he's just as foolish as the rest of them... *shakes head and wanders off*  
**Jenny** - I know, I know, but, well, my _computer_ is Mordor. We have a network at home, and when I put it up, I called it "Mordor". My computer's name is Barad-dûr, my sister's is Orthanc, and my laptop is Minas Morgul. Yes, I know that Orthanc isn't in Mordor, but she didn't like "Morannon". *shakes head* Silly girl. **Rabbit of Iron** - *blinks* He's cute in pain, huh? Yup, you need professional help. I know I do. LOL, don't mention the war - I love Fawlty Towers! John Cleese is wonderful... *g* "To Walk in Night 2 - Revenge of the Spiders"? Sounds a little bit like George Lucas on a bad day, but... *g* And Hellzapoppin ... well ... it's a movie. About - well, it's hard to describe. It takes place in .. what, '41? I don't know, it's about ... ah, hell, just go and see it. I really can't describe it.   
**Bailey** - Uhm, yes, he is supposed to do that. I told him to do that, actually, so he is supposed to do that. Why I told him to do that? Because I'm evil, that's why. *evil grin* See? Evil. And you misunderstand poor Reran. He's not really bad, he wouldn't have hurt dear Aragorn just for spite. He may not be as reasonable as Adruran, but he's not evil either. Not as evil as I am, anyway. *g*  
**Narina Nightfall** - *shakes her hand* Join the club. I'm a bad person too. If it happens again that you know there should be a chapter but that you can't access it yet, try to add an "a" or "a/" to the link you want to see. Most of the time that works, not always though. But most of the time. *smiles* Yes, I know you love elven horses, or all horses for that matter. And about Rashwe - let's just say I chose that name _before_ I started to look into Sindarin or Quenya, so it's supposed to mean Trouble, but it doesn't. If you've read that translation in the Grey Company Dictionary: Throw it away. Burn it. Bury it. Just get rid of it, it's simply not correct. You are actually thinking about my plot? Really? Wow, that's flattering, thanks! And let me tell you, you not too wrong about the female OC - apart from the not-dying bit. I think. I'm not sure yet though. And you did what? Borrowed a book which fell into the river? Nope, I won't help you! Books are sacred objects in my universe, and whoever harms them in any way deserves death. Sorry. *g* LOL, you love elf torture, except for Elrohir? Well, then you might be wrong here - I am fair if nothing else. Everyone involved will get his fair share of injuries. Yes, I read Curse of Angmar, parts of it, that is. I didn't have time to read the whole thing, and now I don't have time to read it again. *sighs* It's sad, I know. *winces* Bikini Wax is evil. More than evil, downright vicious. Hmm, about the scarring: Yes I do guess both elves and rangers scar if not treated properly. I'd imagine that Estel has a few scars by now, but I think that you would need a lot more to make Legolas actually scar. I guess it would have to be a really bad wound and it would have to go untreated for long. *raises eyebrow* Yes, you DO love Elrohir. I know. Oh, and yes again, there were two letters. One to Thranduil and one to the twins/Elrond. You plot is good, but the men aren't that naïve. Sorry. *g*   
**Kikyo** - Glad you liked it. I really hate writing torture; no-one's going to believe me, I know, but it's true. There will be some Aragorn torture though (I've got to be fair, haven't I? *g*), but later. Not right now, sorry.  
**Alilacia** - Yes! A tree _jumped_ in front of my _sled_! Are they evil or what?! They hate humans, I swear they do! Tree: No, we only hate you. Oh, do be quiet. I'm not an elf, I refuse to talk to an overgrown flower. *narrows eyes* Which one of C&S' stories are you referring to? To be honest, I haven't really had the time to read their last one - which is a shame, I know, but I can't remember any hot knives - that's why I did it. *wide-eyed* Did they do something with hot knives? *shakes Alilacia* Tell me! *sighs sadly* Yeah, our snow's gone too. But it snowed yesterday, a lot, but it was too warm to last. Too bad. *g*  
**Starlight** - LOL, ja, Recht hast du. Sie brauchen nur einen grossen Eimer oder Sack oder so um die Ueberreste der beiden 'reinzupacken, und dann ab nach Rivendell zu Elrond! *g* Hmm, das mit der Ranger torture muss leider noch ein wenig warten. Ich finde immer, man sollte es so machen, dass der eine sich noch mehr oder weniger um den anderen kuemmern kann. Im Prinzip jedenfalls, als Idealtypus quasi... *schuettelt sich* Sorry, zu viel Max Weber gelesen... *g* Ja, das Zitat war ja auch aus PotC uebernommen, ich weiss leider nicht, wie es auch Deutsch hiess. Ich habe ihn nur auf Englisch gesehen, und das war auch gut so! *g*  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Yes, I think he should be excused too. I think I would have done the exact same thing - well, maybe not for a prissy wood-elf, but... *evil grin* It's very nice to hear that you agree with me though - that Aragorn is stupid - and thanks a lot for the review!  
**Forever Unstoppable** - Ugh, that doesn't sound too good. Freezong rain is definitely NOT funny. No, not at all. It's warmer here now, though. About 3 °C, sorry, I don't know what's that in Fahrenheit. That's one of the things I'll never learn, I fear. I can cope with inches and yards and stuff, but not Fahrenheit. *shrugs* I'm weird. Don't worry though, they won't kill Aragorn. Wouldn't be fun, now would it? And I think that Legolas doesn't need a hug right now. He needs a healer! *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - *blinks* Yes, he is slightly stupid. Must be the genes. *g* Don't shout at him though, or he might refuse to leave my closet ever again. Oh, and your cutlery drawer does that too? Have you ever tried to find the butter knife? It's bloody impossible! Uhm ... yes ... interesting ... I think I like number 6 best. Sounds rather painful and funny. I might remember that. *g* And I understand you hate him. I hate him too.   
**Sirithiliel** - Uhm, I'm sorry? I'm rather confused now. You were talking about you doing which story? The one where Aragorn gets captured? Well, go and write it? I won't, I already have done one like that! *blinks* I'm _really_ confused now. **  
Zam** - *blinks* Al-right. I won't ask. I really won't. *grins sheepishly and looks to the floor* Well, actually, Zam ... Teonvan _would_ love to be alone with him to do something like that. I have been dropping small hints ever since chapter 6. *g* Don't tell me, he's sick. But don't worry, this is PG-13 and will stay that way. LOL, the "Mighty Authoress Remote Control of Doom"? Well, that does sound interesting - can I have one? Please? *puppy-dog eyes* How in the name of Manwë did you get Aragorn's shoes? No, don't tell me - I don't want to know. I really don't want to know... *puts fingers into ears and wanders off*  
**Firniswin** - Uhm, yes. I am evil and a madwoman. Thank you. *g* And your prayer didn't really work, I'm afraid. But then again, being impatient isn't necessarily a bad thing. I am impatient myself. *g* It's nice to hear that you liked the cliffy though! Personally, I loved it. I love all cliffies though, so that probably doesn't really count. Once again, sorry for keeping you waiting, and sorry for offending you, if I have. And you're sad for what, that people have another opinion? I for my part are very happy that there are people with different opinions. The worlds would be a dull and quite horrible place if everyone was of the same opinion. *g*  
**Tychen** - Uhm, you're right, they only break their bones, that's all. *shrugs* It's a start, isn't it? *evil grin* You're right about the angst-ridden though - somehow I wasn't in a very good mood when I wrote chapter 17. Don't ask me why, it's simply not very cheerful. *g*   
**Calenore** - Hmm, well, they're not exactly _taking_ him with them. Not as in invite him or anything, but... *trails off* Ah, just go and read it. And believe it or not, I don't like the torture per se. I like the H/C, but for that you need torture and/or injuries. *grimaces* You can't have everything, huh?  
**Alisha B** - LOL, the Laws that Govern Fanfiction? I for my part think that the first one is Murphy's: Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. *g* Well, now that you write it like that, it sounds like a very stupid thing to do for Aragorn, but, essentially, it is exactly what our favourtie reckless ranger is going to do. *shakes head sadly* He's really not too bright, is he? No, of course not. Don't worry, Ráca will be fine. I am not going to kill her just like that, even though I think she'd find her way back to Mirkwood. LOL, I do know what you're talking about, I think Lassie is indeed an international show. The worst thing is that Lassie was in fact a male! I'd never have thought it! And, you know, YOUR Monday isn't exactly Monday here. See, you can't really compare it, since it has a whole different name and all - does Montag sound like Monday to you? Noooo... *trails off* Okay, you're right. I am late. But all I said was that I'd try to update on Sunday, I never promised I would. And yes, you have to add 6 to 9 hours, depending on where you are. Thanks for the nagging, for some unfathomable reason I thought it very nice! *g*  
**C. Hobbes** - First: I love your screen name! I LOVE Calvin and Hobbes - if that's why you chose it. I LOVE Calvin. He's perfectly evil and mean. *g* And you're _so_ right! My seminar is about the Thirty Years' War, and, trust me, I have given up on it a long time ago. Apart from the fact that the reasons to start this war were simply _stupid_, I hate the religious part of it! It is so silly to fight about something like that! *sighs* People don't learn, do they... Stadholder - ha, I know what that is! I mean, I didn't know a week ago, but now I know! There were loads of them, Maurits van Oraanje, and Frederick Hendrik van Oraanje, and... *trails off* You don't really want to know, huh? Well, I don't want to know either. I guess I'll forget it again then. Anyway, thanks for the review!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - No Spanish? Poor you - well, they didn't offer that either at my school. I had to choose between French and Greek - I took Greek and lived happily ever after... *g* Your teacher is from Switzerland? *grins widely* Well, then let's just say that it's not German you're learning, you're learning Swiss German, or at least with a Swiss accent, unless your teacher is really good. I can't understand it either, when I was there for three months it took me almost two to even understand what people were trying to tell me. *g* Hmm, you might be close. I'm not saying anything. I am evil, I know. *evil grin* Yup, our snow's gone and it's quite warm here. Lucky us. About the body cast - well, you ... well, you ... sort of ... Look, behind you! Morgoth! *turns and runs*  
**Nikara** - No, it is indeed no surprise. It's no wonder Estel is as reckless as he is with Elladan and Elrohir as his examples... And I don't know about the Valar, lately I have come to the conclusion that they just might have a really weird sense of humour. Like me. *g*   
**Merryelf** - *blushes* Thanks! I'm glad you liked Celylith and the twins. I'm sorry I couldn't make their scene any longer, but right now I am having trouble to get any of them to shut up in the first place, especially Legolas and Aragorn. They want the chapters for themselves, reckless creatures. *g* And don't we all love Estel? *huggles him* Well, I do.  
**Orlandofan13** - What, you mean that FF.net is not the real world? That's an interesting idea... *g* I don't like romances, at least not those on FF.net. Most are so bad that they make me laugh. Or cry. Or both. Well, I could never save these two from anything, because I would a. refuse to save someone as stupid and reckless as those two, and because b. I would never get myself into such a situation. And if I did, I wouldn't be pf much help. *g*   
**Strider's Girl** - Oh, don't apologise for not reviewing! Life is very hectic, you don't have to tell me... Hmm, to be perfectly honest, I think that he got off lightly. It might have been elves, after all, and THEN he would have had to face King Thranduil. *shudders* That'd have been bad. And I think Legolas is not only stubborn, he is also proud. All elves are proud, and I think that's the one thing that will get them killed one day. Well, technically I know that it didn't, but still. *g* LOL, Aragorn keeps losing things, "daggers, friends, blood"? That's a rather ... interesting way of putting it... Hmm, about the reviewing thing: I promise you I'll try, but I honestly don't know when I'll have the time to do so. College is rather chaotic at the moment, I barely have time to write my own story and reply to the reviews which takes ages, believe me. I'll try, but I don't even have time to read anything on FF.net at the moment, not to mention to review. I admire you guys you manage to do all at once, I really do.  
**Halfling** - *innocently* What, you didn't like the cliffy? Whyever not? I LOVE them - when I write them, that is. When I read them it's another thing entirely... *g* Uhm, I think they already ARE traumatised for life, too late to start worrying now. *g* And you're right of course, burns hurt horribly. All kinds of burns, so a lightsaber would be really bad, I guess. Poor Luke. *huggles him*  
**Just Jordy** - *blinks* What did I say to 'shut you down'? I didn't mean to offend you! Did I offend you? You're not angry, are you? You didn't say anything stupid... *very confused now* But the cliffhangers will ... NEVER stop! We lovesss them, preciousss! Mhahahaha! *runs off cackling madly*  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Well, even after reading your bio I have to admit that I'd be lying if I said I'd understand even a third of what you're saying. *g* I am, however, glad to hear that you like my stories - even though your husband is missing, sorry m'lady - and I will try to put more of your distant kin, the twins, into it. Now I am curious though: Just how are you related to the twins, Lady? Coincidentally I know a little bit about their background; since you're an elf, not a man, would you be of the House of Finwë or of the House of Elwë then? I'd guess Elwë, since most of the nobility of Mirkwood is Sindarin, after all, not Noldorin... *g*  
**Karone Evertree** - Well, yes, interesting it an ... interesting way of putting it. *g* Rather accurate though! Sorry for not posting this sooner! *hangs head*  
**Elvendancer** - Eeek, a virus? I hate those little buggers - they're evil, that's what they are... I really hope you manage to get rid of it soon, there's nothing as infuriating and annoying as an 'infected' computer. I will of course not tell your brother, don't worry! *g*   
**Mia** - *g* More story, huh? Well, since you were asking so politely: Here's the next bit! I hope you'll enjoy it, thanks for the review!  
**Critternut** - Well, I have to tell you something. I am a weird person, meaning that the more people tell me to do or not do something, the more I will do the exact opposite in the end. If loads of people tell me that I absolutely "MUST see that movie", it's a guarantee that I won't. So I have to tell you that I will under no circumstances do something to Legolas' leg, not even in the end. *g* You must have triggered a stupid, defiant reaction in me, sorry. I might put it into the next story though. *g* I thought you should know. I agree though, Teonvan IS sick. That's his job, he's a psychopath. And whoever said that being a king requires brains? I will gladly give a list longer than both your arms with kings and queens who were just plain stupid. Nah, it would be WAY longer than your arm... *g*  
**Suzi9** - Suzi! Yay! You're back! *huggles* I missed you! Really, I did! I'm glad to see that you got back from "up north", but I have to offer you my condolences. I have never lost a family member before, but it must be horrible. I'm also sorry that you didn't make it for the funeral. And of course the kilt thing is your fault! *snorts* Really, as if your cousin would have worn a kilt all the time until you bought him that pair of jeans. *blinks* He didn't, right? *g* And how in the name of God did you manage to get a concussion? *puts her to bed and takes some more blood for good measure* Honestly, I let you out of my sight for a few days and what do you do... *shakes head* Reckless Scot. I'm glad though you liked the evil dude. I love him myself, but I always like my villains. But he's not really aiming for democratising ME, sorry. More like conquering the better part of it... *evil grin* Don't worry though, there will be some Legolas-Thranduil-father-son-moments in the end. I think. *g* And I guess Ráca had another name, but since Aragorn didn't know it, he had to give her one himself. Horses - especially female horses - tend to react rather offended when called "horse" all the time. *g* Oh, and you should never invite me just like that. One of these days I might just stand on your doorstep with an insane smile... *smiles insanely* Like this. And yes, I AM mad, and I still don't manage to make any Adobe product work. That company hates me, I swear. I am sure you will pick wonderful pictures for THOM though. I am much looking forward to it! Thanks a lot for your huge review, and get better soon! *huggles*  
**Lembas7 - **Well, yes, you're right, I guess. Aragorn IS stupid. And don't forget, he's no king yet. Right now he's a 23 year old boy, who is entitled to a bot stupidity. *g* Okay, not all THAT much, but still... I'm glad you're calm again though. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Marbienl** - You? A charming lady? *giggles* Don't make me laugh...*g* No, really, there are many words that come to my mind to describe you, but 'charming' isn't necessarily one of them... Well, that sentence was taken right out of PotC, so I guess it's alright it reminds you of Will Turner, who is, coincidentally, also incredibly stupid and reckless. *g* Don't you just love Finding Nemo? It's a great movie! You plan for Estel to enter the camp is nice, really, but I really don't think that the humans would buy it. I mean, they're in the middle of nowhere, how are the chances of running into a lost human? And how should he explain the dagger? They would never trust a ranger anyway. LOL, I know that you like Aragorn, don't worry. And there will be some owies for him, later. I promise. *g*  
**Carla** - Uhm, ja, im allgemeinen haut das schon hin. *g* Was hast du auch von einem idiotischen, ruecksichtlosen Mann wie Aragorn anderes erwartet? Was, bist du etwa ein Mit-Orlando-Bloom-nicht-so-toll-Finder? Na, das ist doch was! *knuddelt* Ich finde ihn, ehrlich gesagt, einen ziemlich schlechten Schauspieler. Und besonders huebsch ist er auch nicht. *g* Meine Schwester hat auch nur eine Woche Schulferien, aber die Semesterferien sind 2 Monate, ca. von Mitte Februar bis Mitte April, und dann wieder Mitte Juli bis Mitte Oktober. *g* Studi muss man halt sein. Ich glaube, bei euch ist das ganz aehnlich wie hier.  
**Tapetum Lucidum** - You couldn't be more right! It's indeed very hard to think of anything new to do to these two - or rather impossible! You need an evil mind and lots of boring lectures... *g* Hmm, do you really think they waited too long? I mean, a day is not so long for three young elf lords, is it? And I don't know how much help Aragorn will be, but he'll definitely give Legolas sympathy! *g*  
**Leggylover03** - Yes, I guess you could say that. He's rather strupid and reckless, isn't he? And your feeling just might prove to be right, about Celylith, I mean. *g* Might.  
**ManuKu** - Manu! Na, das ist doch mal 'ne schoene Ueberraschung! Ich freue mich richtig, dich 'wiederzusehen'! Ich hatte schon richtig angefange, dich zu vermissen... Und du hast alles _ausgedruckt_? Wow, dann muss dein Drucker ja haerter im Nehmen sein als meiner... *g* Es tut mir natuerlich leid, dass ich Atemnot verursacht habe und dich vom Weintrinken ferngehalten habe. Lag nicht in meiner Absicht, das versichere ich dir... *g* Dass die die Kampfszene gefallen hat, freut mich natuerlich doppelt! Du hast dir natuerlich in der Tat einen unguenstigen Zeitpunkt zum Aufholen ausgesucht - sorry! Danke fuer deine tolle Review! *knuddel*  
**Alexa** - Hmm, I guess he's stubborn. Stubborness will get you everywhere, in the end... *g* Don't worry, I would never kill "your baby", I wouldn't want to cause Aragorn such mental anguish. *evil grin* We do get some comfort for Legolas, but he's not really awake to enjoy it. Sorry. That's next chapter. *g*  
**Sabercrazy** - No-one is buying it? Really? Too bad... And how do you know what I look like when I'm smiling? Huh? How?? I really think I have to scan a picture soon and send it to several people - no, I do NOT look the cave troll! *g* And I really don't think the cappuccino was to blame for your behaviour, mate. Try 'insanity' or 'mental instability' or something like that... *g* And I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait a bit for Aragorn torture AND Glorfindel torture. Sorry again, but it WILL be here, I promise. *g* Well, join the club. I don't like Teonvan either, and I CREATED him, so that really means something. And I like the headless rodent. *g* I really do.  
**Salara** - Tja, man sehe und staune, es ist noch rechtzeitig angekommen! Und wie! Irgendwie hab' ich heute abend nicht gebacken bekommen... *seufzt* Ich bin ein Depp, sag's mir nicht... Uhm, war die kleine torture Szene wirklich so schlimm? Ich wollte dich nicht verschrecken, ehrlich! LOL, die "Weichei-Liga"? Na, keine Angst, da landest du schon nicht! Das verhindert schon das letzte Kapitel eurer Geschichte. *schuettelt Kopf* Ehrlich. Dieser arme dummer Elbenwaechter. Wie ich schon sagte, der durschnittliche Imladris-Elb besitzt die Intelligenz eines Toasts. *g* Tja, du nennst es Mut, andere wuerden es wohl Daemlichkeit nennen. Die Zwillinge z.B. *g* Und die Story wird wahrscheinlich wirjlich ca. 30 Kapitel lang. Ich weiss es noch nicht, koennte aber hinhauen. Und nein, das Leben ist nicht fair.  
  
***shoots FF.net yet another suspicious look* It will screw it up again, huh? God, I HATE it... *walks off mumbling under her breath* **  
  



	17. Sad Truths

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**A/N:**  
  
***shakes head unbelievingly* Please tell me there isn't going to be a Cendan Lives Foundation or something like that! I mean, honestly people, he's one of the bad guys! Okay, I'll admit that, in comparison to Teonvan he's a wonderfully nice kind of person, but he's still bad! So, please, don't start with him! The CLF is already bad enough... *g***  
  
**There have been some questions about the medical part of the last chapter, and I'll try to answer them as best as I can. First: I am not a doctor, but I do have a friend who has been studying medicine for quite a long time now. So: Yes, what was described (or should have been described) in chapter 16 is a pneumothorax, which is what happens when air enters the chest cavity as the name already suggests. It's true that the scenario I described is, from what I've heard, very rare and rather unlikely (hey, this IS fanfiction, after all! *g*), but it's possible nonetheless. **  
  
**You see, the chest wall is not right next to the lung. There's some space between the two in which there's a vacuum, so the main scenario is that, as soon as the pleura (that's the membranes between chest wall and lung and the vaccum) are injured or ripped, air enters, disturbs the vacuum and causes the lung to collapse. I am aware of the fact that the possibility of only injuring the one pleura and not the other is very slim, and that if such a very remote possibility should indeed be the case, it isn't the very best thing to seal the wound therefore trapping the air, but my friend assured me that, in some cases, it is the only thing to do when you have no access to a hospital and that it's possible to survive, especially when you're young and healthy. So, I just assumed that elves are _especially_ young and healthy, that elven anatomy isn't _quite_ like human anatomy and that they got lucky. *g* I really don't want to start a discussion about elven anatomy, so let's just say that I took some liberties in the last chapter, okay?**  
  
***evil grin* Yes, yes, yes, Teonvan IS quite a mean, psychopathic person, right? I mean, not even I like him, and I created him - so I guess you're right. Speaking of psychopaths: A lot of people asked about ranger torture. *sighs* I know, what else is new? So: Come on, you _know_ me. You know there will be some, because I may be many things, but I'm not unfair. We had some elf torutre so we will have some ranger torture too, but not now. Try ... hmm, what about chapter 20 or something. In a little while. *g***  
  
**Well, here's chapter 17 which hopefully will retain its formatting. Knowing FF.net I doubt it though. *g* Anyway, there's quite a lot of angst around here, because Legolas wakes up, Anardir wakes up, King Thranduil is having a bad day, Aragorn learns about Legolas' wonderful alias and Reran realises that underestimating people can be very, very dangerous. *g***  
  
**Have fun and review, please!**  
  


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Chapter 17   
  
There was no slow awakening for Legolas, not this time.   
  
He left the dark, peaceful sleep behind to come to awareness in an instant, a transition that was neither welcome nor voluntary. For a moment, all that registered in his mind was confusion, something that was quickly swept away by a staggering wave of pain that swept through his body, making him convulse with the intensity of it – which turned out to be a really bad idea since that only increased the pain.   
  
Fighting to calm his own body and against the pain that wrecked it, the elven prince desperately tried to figure out what had happened to him. His mind shied away from the memories with a determination that caused him to get seriously worried, and had he not been in so much unexpected pain, he might even have fought through the mental block to remember the cause of his poor state of health. The way things were, however, he was far too busy to do such a thing since it seemed that even slowing down his breathing and heart rate was too great and insurmountable a task.   
  
As if through a haze he felt cool hands grip him and restrain his movements, and the darkness that seemed to cover his memories dissipated long enough for him to realise with absolute certainty that there was no-one here by whom he wished to be touched. The elf immediately began to struggle against the hands that held him fast, and he was so captivated by that task that it took him several moments to realise that the person holding him was talking to him in soft, accentless Sindarin. His movements stilled as he listened to the Noldorin cadence that was slightly throatier than the Sindarin that was spoken at his home and that caused the words to blend together, threatening to lull him back to sleep.   
  
Suddenly, the memories seemed to come back to him all at once, and Legolas would almost have moaned aloud, but not because of the pain that still filled his body and was seemingly concentrated on the left side of his chest. Please, Elbereth, let it not be as he thought… With an enormous effort he managed to pry open his eyes that an incredibly amusing man must have glued shut, only to look at the blurriest face he had ever seen.   
  
For a moment, he simply stared at the blurry blob that was supposedly a face, and found himself hard-pressed not to start giggling. It was a most ridiculous sight indeed. The big blob grew a little bit sharper round the edges and opened its mouth to say something, and if the elf hadn't lost his voice out of reasons he couldn't remember, he would really have started laughing.   
  
The familiar voice that registered in his muddled, pain-filled head a second later chased away all traces of mirth however and awoke in him the potent urge to hit something hard and unyielding. What in the name of the One was _he _was doing here?   
  
"…calm down, my friend … It's alright, we are alone. You can wake up now. It's alright, calm down…"   
  
The words seemed to be repeated over and over again, and Legolas closed his eyes shortly, opening them again after a moment to turn unbelieving, shocked eyes on his best friend who was leaning over him, looking a little worse for wear but real nonetheless.   
  
"Estel?" Legolas finally managed to croak, having neither the strength nor the ability to say more.   
  
A brilliant smile spread over the ranger's tired face, and he nodded so fervently that a few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead.   
"Thank the Valar!" he exclaimed. Two hands lightly touched Legolas' chest, and the man added, "Stay where you are and do – not – move – an – inch."   
  
Legolas could only blink in confusion when Aragorn's head disappeared along with his hands, only to reappear a moment later, still wearing a large grin. The hands appeared again, holding something that looked like a water skin, and the elf noticed for the first time that his friend's wrists were bound by a length of rope. Before he could dwell on that subject any longer, Aragorn carefully propped him up so that he could help him drink as much of the cool water that sloshed in the skin as he could. A second later he was helped to lie down again, and Aragorn started speaking before Legolas could even open his mouth to ask the first of the two dozen questions that had popped up in his brain in the last few seconds alone.   
  
"Elbereth, stubborn elf, do you have any idea how much you scared me? Do _never _do that again, do you hear me? You very nearly died on me last night, and you still need to rest as much as you can. I would like to keep you immobile for at least another day, but they want to leave at noon, if you can stand or not. I told them what a stupid idea that was and that they were idiots even to consider it, but…"   
  
Legolas' eyes grew a little wider, and the last doubts as to whether or not his friend was an illusion or apparition disappeared. An illusion couldn't have talked as much in as little time; it was a physical impossibility. Only Aragorn could babble so much. Had he thought it safe to do so, he would have shaken his head.   
"Why did you … come here, reckless human?" he finally managed to ask.   
  
Aragorn stopped in mid-tirade and gave the elf a mildly wounded look.   
"Did you really think I would let you have all the fun alone? That I would allow you to get yourself captured and dragged across Rhovanion without me? You should know me better, my friend. I would never miss entertainment such as this."   
  
Legolas closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling tired beyond measure.   
"No … you should not have come." A sudden thought struck him and his eyes flew open again, his right hand that felt the least damaged feverishly reaching out and grasping the young human's left forearm. "Teonvan – did he do anything to you? Did he harm you?"   
  
The man quickly pressed the elven prince down again, doing his best to calm him down before he could harm himself or tear any of the stitches he had placed so painstakingly in such a large percentage of the elf's skin last night.   
"No, don't worry," he tried to soothe the agitated elf. "No-one harmed me. I am fine, I promise you. It is you I am worried about, _mellon__ nín_."   
  
Legolas allowed himself to be pushed down onto what he had identified as several blankets, what little strength his worry had lent him dissipating rapidly. He blinked, for the first time noticing that they were in a small, beige tent, and that the light of the pre-dawn hours was filtering through the front flaps.   
"I am…"   
  
"Don't," Aragorn advised him darkly as he carefully peeled back the edge of a bandage to inspect one of the cuts. "Don't say you're alright. I have seen to your wounds last night; I know that you are not." Noticing the pained expression on the elf's face, he let the bandage fall back into place. "I am sorry, Legolas," he said softly. "I am sorry for not accompanying you, I am sorry for not finding you more quickly, and most of all I am sorry for not coming out sooner. I did not even reach the camp long after they had … started."   
  
The fair haired elf smiled slightly and shook his head minutely.   
"Don't be sorry, my friend. I only wish you would have stayed where you were."   
  
"Legolas…"   
  
"No, Estel, I mean it," the elf shook his head again, wincing when pain lanced through his temples. He would have wished to raise his voice, but found that he was too short of breath and that his chest hurt too much for an action as foolish as that. "These people here are mad. They are not stupid, but they are mad, mad with fear and anger and hatred. They are dangerous."   
  
"Don't you think I know that?" Aragorn asked, looking suddenly far older than he was as he reached for his healing bag with his bound hands. "This … man, Teonvan, he almost killed you yesterday! It is only with luck and the grace of the Valar that you still live! Your lung partially collapsed, and it you weren't so stubborn and thick-headed, you would have suffocated and I would have been helpless to do anything about it!"   
  
Legolas tried to smile again, suddenly understanding Aragorn's behaviour. He had scared the man out of his mind yesterday, and Aragorn still wasn't able to convince himself that he would really survive. A stab of guilt went through his chest that already felt as if someone had used it as a pincushion – for spears. He hadn't meant to frighten the ranger.   
  
"Well," he said wryly, managing to lift a hand and lightly touch the other's arm. "That explains why my chest feels as if a _mûmak_ had chosen it for a resting place. An overweight _mûmak_."   
  
Aragorn's mouth twisted into a small smile as he recognised the elf's attempt to lift the mood as what it was, and neatly used the opportunity to grab Legolas' wrist to check the wounds the rough ropes had left there. After making sure that they had started to heal and were free of infection, he carefully placed the elf's hand on his heavily bandaged chest and grabbed the other wrist, preparing to repeat the procedure.   
  
"It will get worse if you don't rest," he told his patient. "No yelling, coughing, laughing or singing for the next few days, do you hear me?"   
  
"That," Legolas said darkly, "should not be so hard. I don't know why, but my desire to laugh or sing has seldom been smaller." He looked at his friend who was still examining his other wrist, and carefully tried to pull it out of his grasp to get the man's attention. "Despite of what I said earlier, I am glad that you have come, my friend. But," he added, cutting off whatever Aragorn had wanted to say, "you must leave me. Try to escape as soon as you can."   
  
"I will never understand why people say I am stubborn. There are apparently some things that will never penetrate that thick Silvan skull of yours," Aragorn shook his head as he slowly released the elf's hand, wincing when he moved his right arm.   
  
The younger dark haired man, Cendan, had appeared some time during the night and had tied his hands without a word, apparently not at all caring if his arm was injured or not. If he had thought it had hurt before, he had quickly been shown how wrong he had been; the incessant pressure on the injured limb was quickly approaching unbearable levels. Somehow, Aragorn thought darkly, these men didn't seem to trust him, the Valar alone knew why.   
  
"I will never leave you behind," he added, not at all intimidated by his friend's attempt at the _look_. "Certainly not in the hands of these men. They want you very badly, but they don't care in what condition you are in as long as you're alive."   
  
"I know that!" Legolas replied sharply. "They need me, I don't know why myself, but they don't need you! Reran, the leader, will never take you with them, for that you are too dangerous. He will kill you, Strider, he will kill you before they leave this place, and that is something _I_ won't accept! You have to leave me!"   
  
"I won't, because he won't," Aragorn smiled a little bit smugly. "As you said, they need you alive, or their mysterious lord will kill all of them in a manner that would apparently make Finrod Felagund's death in the pits of Sauron appear quick and merciful."   
  
Both of them shuddered almost imperceptibly. Finrod, son of Finarfin, grandson of Finwë and brother of Lady Galadriel had gone with Beren on the quest of the Silmarils and had died in torment and darkness on _Tol-in-Gaurhoth_. It was a death every one of the Firstborn feared, and deservedly so.   
  
"No," Aragorn went on, "Reran won't kill me, at least not now. Their healer was killed, and they fear that you might still die. They won't kill me until they have reached their destination and have delivered you safely into the hands of their lord, believe me."   
  
Legolas looked into the man's grey eyes, saw the determined sparkle in them and decided that he would be wasting his time trying to convince him right now. He possessed neither the energy nor the strength to argue with someone as incredibly stubborn as Aragorn at the moment, and decided to let the matter rest for the time being.   
"Perhaps," he said slowly, trying to ignore the pain in his chest, "Perhaps you should explain everything from the beginning. There are quite a few questions I want answered."   
  
Aragorn gave the elf a hard look, knowing that there was no way Legolas would be allowing him to change the subject.   
"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "But I want your word that you tell me when the pain becomes too much." He lifted both his hands in an authoritative gesture, something that didn't look quite as impressive as he would have wished it to. "Don't even try to tell me that you don't hurt. I stitched half a dozen of these cuts yesterday, and I know what burns feel like. I am sorry, but there was no other way. I had to stitch them, or…"   
  
"I know, Strider," Legolas inclined his head. "There is no need to apologise. You saved my life, once again. How could I reproach you for that? I owe you my thanks."   
  
"You owe me nothing," Aragorn shook his head, "Least of all your thanks. If I hadn't forgotten my dagger, my _elvish _dagger, nothing like this would have happened. I would have been able to free you in the night and we would already be on our way back to Mirkwood."   
  
"No," the elf shook his head, finding that it didn't hurt him quite as much anymore. "You are wrong, my friend. As I said, these men are dangerous, and they are experienced. Believe me, you would never have managed to free me without alerting the entire camp, Númenórean blood and elven training or not. I have been trying for a week to escape, and haven't once got past stage one, namely even spotting an opportunity. And Teonvan would have done what he has done no matter what, sooner or later. He had been waiting for a chance like that for days. It wasn't your fault, and please, do spare me having to repeat myself."   
  
Aragorn looked at him sadly, apparently not at all convinced, but finally bowed his head in acquiescence.   
"You are my patient for the moment, and if my father has taught me anything, it is never to upset a patient needlessly. I will follow that advice and remain silent, if you promise me to tell me when you are tired and wish to rest."   
  
"Alright," Legolas finally said, finding to his surprise that the presence of his friend alone calmed his troubled mind and allowed him to relax more than he had been able to in more than six days. "Alright, reckless human, I will; and now quit stalling. How in Ilúvatar's name did you find me, how did you get yourself captured and why exactly aren't you at the palace?"   
  
Aragorn sighed and consented himself to his fate, and it was almost an hour later that he finally finished the story, due to several incredulous and worried interruptions Legolas had either been unable or unwilling to hold back.   
  
"So," Legolas finally concluded, "You are alone, no-one knows where you are, and all that might lead eventual pursuers into the right direction is a small rune that you carved into a random tree."   
  
"Essentially … yes."   
  
"Oh," the elf added, suppressing a small cough and wincing in pain at the movement, "And here I thought our situation couldn't get any worse."   
  
"But you have company now," Aragorn pointed out, reaching once again for the water skin and helping the elf to drink some more water. "As soon as you are well again, there is no way these men can hold us here. I am sure that my brothers will follow us as soon as they can. They will find us; we simply have to wait and see that we survive until then."   
  
"Aye," Legolas nodded slowly. "They will, I am sure as well, and if I am not very much mistaken, Celylith will come as well. That elf can be just as headstrong as you if he has to."   
  
The young ranger smiled and lightly touched his friend's cheek with his bound hands in a reassuring gesture.   
"I'm certain you are right. We will have to stay alive till they get here, and, if possible, escape and kill these people before then."   
  
"I like that plan," Legolas smiled back and weakly touched his friend's right forearm, his brow creasing in a frown when he saw the grimace of pain flicker over the other's features. "What is it? Is that the little 'scratch' you got from the wolves?"   
  
"It's nothing," Aragorn tried to brush off the elven prince's worry. "Just a flesh wound. The bone is not even broken."   
  
"But it must still hurt!" the elf retorted, glaring at the ranger reproachfully. "Who bound you like this?"   
  
"I think his name is Cendan," the man replied. "He is a little smaller than I am, with dark hair, rather dark skin and…"   
  
"…blue eyes," Legolas finished his sentence. "Yes, he would simply not care. Reran is a good commander, afraid of his lord and afraid of what might happen to his men if he fails. Teonvan is sick, seeking pleasure and respect through pain and humiliation of others; he does not care for any other being, not even for his own men. Cendan, however, I cannot read."   
  
Aragorn shook his head helplessly.   
"He does not like Teonvan though, that is all I can tell you. You can see hatred and contempt in his eyes every time he looks at him."   
  
Legolas smiled painfully, trying not to think of the last time he had seen Teonvan.   
"That he does not like him is an understatement. Cendan hates Teonvan, and Teonvan him. Cendan even tried to protect me because he considered me his responsibility, yet could do nothing once Teonvan ordered him to step aside. He holds great respect for Reran and his decisions though."   
  
"And yet he disobeyed his orders in order to obey Teonvan's," Aragorn went on, eyeing Legolas sharply. He hadn't missed the flicker of pain and dark memories that had been shortly visible in the elf's eyes, and was already trying to come up with a way to inconspicuously change the topic. "A paradoxical behaviour."   
  
Legolas simply nodded, and Aragorn reached out with his hands to brush a strand of fair hair away from the elf's forehead, inwardly wincing at the pain in his arm and cursing Teonvan, Cendan, Reran and the whole lot of them in rather colourful terms.   
"Remember what I said earlier, stubborn elf. Try to get some more rest; we will break camp in a few hours if they really want to leave at noon. We can talk later."   
  
The elf would almost have agreed and allowed his friend's soft voice to relax him further, but something that had been bothering him ever since Aragorn had told him how the news of his capture had reached Mirkwood chose just this moment to emerge and demand his attention.   
  
"What about my men?" he asked sharply, shrugging off Aragorn's hands and fighting to reach a sitting position. "What about Galalith and Anardir? You merely said Anondil's patrol found Rashwe and brought them back; what happened to them?"   
  
Aragorn who had reluctantly been helping his friend to sit up pressed his lips together and closed his eyes shortly, glad that Legolas was resting against his chest and couldn't see his face. He had hoped so much that he had evaded that question successfully, had hoped so much that Legolas wouldn't ask about his friends until he was better...   
  
"Anardir was … wounded," he finally said evasively, feeling Legolas' body stiffen slightly at his attempt not to answer directly. "When I left the palace, he was still unconscious, but Master Hithrawyn assured me that he was in no imminent danger."   
  
That wasn't even untrue, he thought sadly. Anardir hadn't been in any imminent danger, if one ignored the small fact that he might never wake again or might chose to leave his body to join his friend in the Halls of Mandos.   
  
Legolas tensed unconsciously, the bad feeling he was having intensifying tenfold. He was no fool; Aragorn had avoided talking about this with such great care and was now only divulging what had happened to the golden haired elf. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head to the side to look at his friend who valiantly avoided looking at him.   
  
"And Galalith?" he asked softly, in his heart already knowing what Aragorn would answer. "What happened to Galalith?"   
  
When the man refused to meet his gaze, he slowly raised an aching arm and grabbed Aragorn's chin, forcing him to look at him and feeling how his heart constricted in his chest as he looked into large grey eyes that were bright with unshed tears.   
"Please, Estel. Tell me what happened to him."   
  
Aragorn swallowed hard, his own grief for the merry elf with the chestnut brown hair once again rising to the surface. He had never had time to mourn his death, and to see the slowly dying hope in Legolas' eyes made everything even worse. He took a deep breath and released it again, his eyes still locked with his elven friend's.   
  
"Rashwe was wounded; an arrow in a hind leg, a wound that is already healed," he began slowly, hoping to soothe his friend a little with the knowledge that his beloved steed was alive and well. Legolas simply continued looking at him, and so he forced himself to continue. "Rashwe did what he could, but the injury weakened him too much. They … they never made it to the palace. Some hours from Mirkwood Rashwe collapsed and couldn't carry them any further. Galalith's wounds were too serious. He was long dead when the patrol reached them."   
  
The only outward sign that Legolas had heard his words was the fact that he slowly closed his eyes, his hand releasing his friend's chin and falling onto the blankets that covered his body.   
"I knew it," the elf finally said softly, two tears escaping his tightly closed eyelids and slowly rolling down cut and bruised cheeks. "I always knew he had probably not survived, but … I hoped. I hoped so much."   
  
Aragorn carefully leaned back against the tent pole, careful not to press down on the elf's chest as he pulled him with him.   
"I know, _mellon__ nín_, I know. I didn't want to tell you until you were better. I am so sorry, so very, very sorry…"   
  
Legolas wanted to retort something, but his voice broke as the grief and the pain of having a long-held hope crumble into dust overwhelmed him. He bowed his head as he realised what a vain hope it had been and that Galalith had indeed died to save him, just as he had feared so many times when he had mulled over what had happened during the long nights.   
  
The confirmation of what he had been dreading for so long on top of his injuries was too much, and so the two tears that had rolled down his cheeks were soon joined by more as the grief for his fallen friend filled his heart, robbing him of what little hope and light there still was.   
  
All Aragorn could do was tighten his hold on his friend and offer what solace he could as the sun slowly rose in the East, casting red-golden light over the snow covered camp.   
  
++++++++++

  
Celythramir was standing in front of his king's study, not even noticing that he hadn't moved from the spot in more than twenty minutes.   
  
He had just returned from his walk to the palace gates, a duty he had undergone mainly to calm his own more than slightly frayed nerves. He didn't really think that King Thranduil had been serious when he had ordered him to "walk up to the gates and check if someone had pinned a note to the doors saying 'Please feel free to steal out of the palace any time you want, preferably during the night'", but had quickly decided to do it anyway, just in case. Except for the fact that it had given him a pretence to escape the king's presence, he simply didn't want to chance Thranduil's wrath and couldn't afford disobeying one of his orders because he had thought it to be a joke.   
  
There had of course been no such note, but during the walk down to the gates and back to the palace he had come up with many different, interesting ways of killing his son once he got his hands on him. Celythramir balled his fists, his chest filled with a choking mixture of worry, anger and fear. What in Eru's name had Celylith been thinking? He hadn't expected him to betray his friends and turn them over to the guards when they had been trying to leave, especially not when these friends were Elladan and Elrohir, but he had expected him to … well, he didn't really know what he had expected his reckless, stupid, impulsive son to do.   
  
If he was perfectly honest, he hadn't expected Celylith to do anything but what he had done. He might even have been a little bit disappointed had Celylith stayed at home and not left with Lord Elrond's sons and Lord Glorfindel, even though right now he doubted it. Right now he would have given his right arm to be able to hug – or kill – his wayward child. He wasn't yet sure what exactly he would prefer, though the murderous intentions outweighed the caring tendencies at the moment.   
  
With an effort, the silver haired elf took his thoughts off his son, even though it was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life – or he tried to. Oh, he thought enraged, that insolent, disobedient elfling should only wait until he got back home; he would _kill _him! Finally consenting himself to the fact that he would not be able to forget about Celylith completely at the moment, Celythramir slowly reached out and rapped at the door.   
  
Something that was either the growl of an ill-tempered bear or the sound made by a cave troll when you poked it with a stick filtered through the wooden doors, and the silver haired elf lord exchanged a weary glance with the guards standing right and left of him. Lord Thranduil was quite often in a foul mood, but today, well, today it was exceptionally foul. Today made even the day on which Lord Elrond's human son had disappeared appear like one of the king's good days.   
  
Firmly telling himself that letting his lord wait would make everything even worse – though in what way, he truly could not see – he decided that the sound had been an invitation to enter, and so enter he did. He regretted it a second later since his king looked up from the papers on his desk as soon as he heard the doors open, a sparkle in his eyes that was either a sign of overwhelming stress or the precursor of madness.   
  
"Lord Celythramir!" he exclaimed, far too cheerfully for the silver haired elf's liking. "For a moment I had believed that you had disappeared as well! It seems to become a plague; perhaps I should give the order to tie every elf not on guard duty to a tree?"   
  
"If your Majesty thinks it prudent," Celythramir answered cautiously. "It might be a little excessive though."   
  
"Indeed," Thranduil mumbled, returning his eyes to the letter in front of him. "You know," he added, "I am in the process of writing the Lord of Imladris to inform him of what happened in the past week. I find it hard to find the appropriate words though. 'Your sons and seneschal decided to sneak out of the palace in a rare act of foolishness to look for your human son who did the same a few days ago to look for my son who has, by the way, disappeared as well. Have a nice day' sounds a little impolite, does it not?"   
  
"It is ... accurate though."   
  
"Accurate!" the King of Mirkwood thundered. "It is an outrage! It is a humiliation! One could think these are the Undying Lands, not the fortified mountains of the Silvan elves of Mirkwood! Someone must have exchanged the guards for statues so that no alarm was sounded!"   
  
"My thoughts exactly, my lord," Celythramir replied seriously. "I have checked though. They are elves, humiliated and shame-faced elves maybe, but still elves. I even nudged one or two of them. They wobbled a little but managed to regain their balance. Definitely no statues."   
  
For a moment, Thranduil merely stared at his advisor who looked back at him gravely before he slowly began to smile, a smile that lit up his whole face and smoothed the lines of worry, anger and fear that had burrowed deeply into his face.   
"No statues?"   
  
"No, sire," Celythramir affirmed, "No statues."   
  
"Well," the golden haired king shook his head, "It is reassuring to hear. I don't understand how they got out of the palace, but I find that I don't even care. I will have a word with my son once he … gets back. There are reasons why the ways to bypass the walls and gates are only known to my family and few others. Legolas seems to have developed the habit of telling everyone he knows about them."   
  
"The prince must be severely reprimanded for his actions after his return," the other elf lord nodded, not having missed the pained wince that flashed over the king's face every time his son was mentioned. "Not to mention my son, of course. I think I might first kill him, then send him to my wife's family in Lothlórien, get him back home, kill him again and _then _send him to Valinor."   
  
"Unfortunately I cannot do the same with Legolas, for he is the crown prince," Thranduil grimaced, throwing the quill he was holding down onto the parchment, blotting ink all over the two sentences he had written until now. It was an open act of agitation that spoke volumes about his state of mind. "Though I am most tempted to throw him into a nice, small cell in the dungeons for a century of two. Maybe even until our time comes to pass into the West, or at least mine does." The king stood to his feet and looked onto the ruined letter with a disgusted expression on his face. "I have just got word from Hithrawyn. It appears that Anardir has woken up. I take it the patrols have found neither the tracks of Lord Elrond's sons and the others nor those of the men?"   
  
Celythramir's eyes darkened even further and he lowered his head.   
"No, my lord."   
  
The other elf lord nodded emotionlessly.   
"I had not expected them to either. The twins may be Noldor, but they are led by a wood-elf; it will be nigh impossible to track them." He took a deep breath and skilfully hid his disappointment, stepping around the table and walking into the direction of the door. "Would you care to accompany me, my lord? Anardir might be able to help us shed some light onto what happened a week ago."   
  
"Of course, your Majesty," the silver haired elf lord bowed slightly and followed his king out of the door, walking past the guards, who were doing their best to melt into the stone walls, into the direction of the healing wing.   
  
In a matter of minutes they had reached Hithrawyn's sanctuary, and another minute later they were standing in front of the blonde healer who looked none too happy or optimistic now that Celythramir thought about it. Then again, he tried to reassure himself, he wouldn't be able to name one elf in all of Mirkwood who looked happy or optimistic, so why should Hithrawyn be an exception?   
  
The elf in question looked at the two elves in front of him, wishing desperately he could give them some good news. He was of course not overly unhappy that the twins had left the palace (and had taken Captain Celylith with them, for that matter), because only Ilúvatar alone knew what trouble they would have managed to get themselves into this time, but he knew that his king and his military advisor were less than happy about it. He could even understand it of course; one had to be a very stupid or utterly mad individual to enjoy having to inform the Lord of Rivendell that all his sons and his seneschal were missing.   
  
"My lords," he gave the two elves a small bow, "Thank you for coming here so quickly. I do not know how much longer Commander Anardir will remain conscious."   
  
Thranduil nodded and began to walk towards the doors leading to the wounded elf's room, closely followed by the blonde healer and his advisor.   
"Does he remember?"   
  
Hithrawyn didn't have to ask at what his king was hinting with that question.   
"I think so. He hasn't said anything to anybody since regaining consciousness." He shook his head sadly. "I do not think he intends to speak any time in the near future either."   
  
"Let us hope you are wrong," the Elvenking retorted tensely. "Apart from the fact that I would hate to visit yet another pair of parents with the news that their son was dead or, in this case, fading, I very much wish to find out what happened out there."   
  
"I cannot promise you anything, my lord," the healer said, "I can give you only a few minutes anyway. I may not be able to influence whether or not the young one fades, but I can do something about his physical wounds. He will not die of his injuries if I have anything to say about it."   
  
Both elf lords realised the barely hidden threat in the other elf's voice and nodded obediently before the blonde elf reluctantly stepped to the side, allowing them to enter the small room. Bright sunlight filtered through the light drapes in front of the windows and drew cheerful patterns on all surfaces it touched, and yet it failed to lighten the atmosphere that filled the room. A junior healer who had been sitting on a plain chair next to the bed rose, gave the two elves a small bow and silently withdrew.   
  
Anardir's eyes were indeed open, that was the first thing Celythramir noticed. The second thing was that they were staring into nothing, much like those of a dead person's, an involuntary comparison that caused a small shudder to race down the silver haired elf's back. The young elf would indeed have looked as if he were dead, if not for the dark, choking despair that clouded his eyes; despair that was so tangible and intense that it seemed to fill every square inch of the room.   
  
The two elf lords stepped closer, and even when the king sat down on the chair and his advisor stepped beside him Anardir showed no sign that he had noticed their presence. Celythramir waited for the king to speak, but saw after a few moments that Thranduil apparently intended to let him talk with the elf. He knew him better after all since he was, in the end, responsible for all things military in his king's realm, and had spoken with the golden haired, always slightly anxious commander more than once.   
  
"Anardir?" he finally asked, finding a second later that he had whispered. Somehow it seemed wrong to speak loudly in this room that was filled with so much pain and grief. "Commander, we need you to listen to us. It is very important that you tell us what happened when you were ambushed a week ago. We must know who these men were."   
  
The clouded eyes showed no sign that the younger elf had heard his words, and Celythramir took another step closer to the bed, crouching down next to it so that his eyes were level with the younger elf's.   
  
"Anardir!" he repeated, his tone sharper now even though he winced inwardly at having to raise his voice when the young elf was so obviously shocked. "You are a warrior of Mirkwood! The king and I need to hear what happened! Who ambushed you? What happened to Prince Legolas?"   
  
The elven prince's name seemed to attract the listless elf's attention, and he slowly turned his head until he looked at the two elf lords at his side. For a long moment, he simply stared at the two of them, eyes devoid of all emotions but pain and despair.   
"The prince … is not … here?" he asked almost inaudibly, his voice cracking and hoarse with physical pain and grief.   
  
"No," the silver haired elf shook his head quickly, not knowing how long Anardir would remain approachable and aware of his surroundings. "No, Prince Legolas is not here. He never returned to the palace. Who ambushed you?"   
  
Anardir blinked in confusion, his old self emerging for a moment to report to his superiors.   
"I don't know," he answered faintly, eyes huge and vacant in his far too pale face. "Humans, they were human … they were suddenly there. Perhaps twenty, twenty-five; they were nearly as quiet as the _Dúnedain_ – took us by surprise. They were not from around here; they were too good, too professional. The prince ordered us to go to get help. I did not want to leave but…" He shook his head slowly, despairingly. "But I did, Elbereth help me. I did."   
  
Celythramir opened his mouth to say something, but Anardir continued, his voice growing softer by the second.   
"They were trying to take him alive when I left him. We tried to reach Anondil's patrol, but the horse collapsed and we … fell." He turned his head minutely to the right, locking eyes with the silver haired elf lord. "It happened, didn't it? Galalith … he is dead. He won't be coming back."   
  
The king's advisor bowed his head, his heart breaking in his chest at the softly-spoken, hopeless words. He closed his eyes and was preparing to retort something when King Thranduil's voice interrupted him, sounding as heartbroken as he himself felt.   
  
"No, he won't be coming back, _pen-neth_," the golden haired Elvenking shook his head. "I am sorry. He is dead."   
  
Anardir simply nodded his head, his eyes clouding over once more.   
"I failed him. I failed him, and I failed the prince. I failed them both…"   
  
"No," Thranduil shook his head, "You failed neither of them. You protected my son and followed his orders. You did your duty and more, far more."   
  
For a moment, the despair in the younger elf's eyes receded, revealing a guilt that rivalled the grief in its intensity.   
"If I had done my duty, I would have died with my friend."   
  
The blonde warrior turned his head away from them and once again began to stare into nothing, and the two elf lords looked at each other, both knowing that there was nothing more they would learn from Anardir. Even if he had been in a more stable state of mind there was nothing he could have told them; he simply did not know who the men were that had ambushed them a week ago.   
  
The only thing that had been confirmed was that these men had indeed taken Legolas alive, Thranduil decided, his eyes still fixed on the pale, emotionless face of his warrior. It had been something that had been almost sure for they would almost certainly have found his son's body had these men indeed killed him, but deep in his heart he had still been afraid that it was all for nothing and that Legolas was already dead.   
  
After a few moments he looked at his silent advisor whose green eyes were still dark with sympathy and anger directed at those responsible for all this, and both of them rose to their feet, anxious to leave this room that seemed darkened by pain, despair and guilt.   
  
The golden haired king slowly left the room, followed by his long-time friend and advisor, but even in the king's study, many paces away from the healing wing, the darkness that had filled the young elf's room refused to dissipate, seemingly clinging to their very hearts. Both of them knew that, should either of their sons lose a dear friend to death, he would most likely share Anardir's fate, leaving both of them behind bereft and grieving.   
  
It was something neither of them needed to be reminded of however, and so no words were spoken between them about it.  
  
++++++++++  
  
The lead horses were stopping, thank the Valar. He had already imagined it two times, but now it was apparently true.   
  
Aragorn allowed himself to relax minutely, casting a furtive glance around him. It was high time they stopped, too. Night was beginning to fall, and so would Legolas if they didn't make camp soon.   
  
Aragorn gritted his teeth, deciding to give the next man who looked into his direction the _look_. Not that it would really avail anything of course, apart from the satisfaction he gained every time he saw one of the humans wither and avert his eyes under his glare. It would most probably take some time until one of them looked at him directly, he thought a little disappointedly. The men had apparently learnt that his _look_ rivalled even Legolas', and were refusing to meet his eyes if they could help it at all.   
  
Which was only understandable. If he had any choice, he would kill all of these men, right here, right now, without a second's hesitation. He had told these idiots that Legolas wasn't up to going anywhere, least of all on horseback, hadn't he? Of course he had. He had told them, in a tone of voice that would have impressed even his elven father in its dark intimidation. The blonde human commander had simply ignored him as if he were a particularly annoying insect, and so he had repeated himself, in terms that lacked the eloquence of his earlier statements but that conveyed his meaning unambiguously, or so he had thought. This time, Reran's dark haired lieutenant had hit him and they had ignored him again, leaving him only with the possibility of glaring at the men, and he couldn't even do that since they refused to look at him.   
  
Oh yes, he had told them, and they hadn't listened. And because of that Legolas was very close to falling off his horse, and if they didn't stop, right now, he _would_ fall off his horse and injure himself even more than he already was. Aragorn felt how his fingers wrapped themselves around the rather thick, rather tight ropes that bound his hands in front of him in sudden anger. If his elven friend had even one more bruise when the sun had sunk below the horizon, these men would pay dearly for it. He didn't really know what he would do to them or how he would do it, to be perfectly honest, but he would think of something. To grow up as Elladan's and Elrohir's brother taught you a thing or two about scheming.   
  
Now the rest of the horses were stopping as well, and Ráca stopped sharply, a split second before one of the men who had already dismounted could grasp the black horse's bridle and pull it to a stop. The man didn't even know how lucky he had just been, Aragorn thought darkly as he reluctantly obeyed the order to get off his horse, anxious to reach Legolas' side. Ráca wasn't very happy about their current situation – which spoke lengths about the animal's common sense in his opinion – and had the human really tried to interfere with her in any way, the ranger was sure that his horse would gladly have ripped off the man's arm. He shrugged inwardly. Ráca might not be as evil as Rashwe, but she was very annoyed right now.   
  
Before Aragorn had even taken more than half a dozen steps, his eyes firmly fixed on the swaying figure of the elven prince who was right now being pulled off his own mount, a hand grasped his injured arm and spun him around, nearly causing him to moan in pain. It might not be broken, but it still did not react well to being pulled into random directions, and the stitches he had places in it to close the large tears the wolf's teeth had left did not enjoy direct contact either. The man holding him by the arm, however, did not care overly much about what he or his arm thought about anything, and had he known about the pain he was causing, it might even have added to his enjoyment of the situation. Aragorn sighed inwardly. He was in no mood to deal with Teonvan right now.   
  
"Not so hasty, ranger," the brown haired man told him pleasantly and began to drag him off to the left where several tents were in the process of being pitched. "We wouldn't want you to stumble and fall down in your hurry, now would we?"   
  
Several possible answers blossomed in Aragorn's mind, all of them sentences that would have guaranteed him at least a blow to the face, and he forced himself to keep his mouth shut, hard as it may be. He needed to have a look at Legolas, and he didn't want to chance making a crucial mistake because he hadn't been able to keep from insulting their captors and had been given a concussion or something similarly debilitating. Aragorn gritted his teeth as the other man's hand tightened around his arm as he pulled him over to the tents, closely followed by two men who were more or less carrying the fair haired elf. Judging by what he had witnessed today, Teonvan would do just that, and be it only to vent his anger.   
  
He didn't understand all that was going on in this very confusing camp – in fact, it was probably only fair to say that he understood very little – but it was clear that Teonvan had fallen out of favour because of his actions, if he had ever been in anyone's favour here to begin with, that was. This morning, when Legolas had still been sleeping and he had seized the opportunity to check his friend's stab wound again, finding it closed and looking rather good as far as he could tell, he had overheard a … conversation between Teonvan and the blonde captain, Reran.   
  
Well, he thought dryly, "conversation" wasn't really a term he would use now that he thought about it; there had been enough hatred and threats in each man's voice to impress even the most experienced councilman. It was very clear that Teonvan was not very happy about the prospect of returning home in disgrace to be named a traitor in front of their lord, and equally clear that Reran did not care in the slightest. From what he'd heard, Aragorn was even able to swear that Reran was _happy _about these developments, even though it was very well possible that what had happened would cause this mysterious lord's wrath to descend also on the blonde captain.   
  
The tension had remained throughout the day, and Teonvan had kept shooting looks of barely veiled anger and hatred into Reran's direction. For a while, Aragorn had thought it rather amusing and had even spent a considerable amount of the day counting the times Teonvan would look darkly at his captain, something that helped him take his mind off his worry for Legolas, their general situation and the pain in his arm. Then, however, all thoughts of amusement had died in his mind when he had realised that there was something else than hatred in Teonvan's eyes – beneath the anger and resentment there was a shrewd, calculating expression, hidden so deeply that only an elf or a quite observant person would notice it. It had been so intense and malicious that it had caused a small shiver of fear to run down the young ranger's spine. Whatever Teonvan was planning, it wasn't good.   
  
Teonvan looked at the younger man with narrowed eyes, feeling incredibly annoyed by his calm and rather disinterested expression, more than he had thought possible. In the day since he had appeared in their camp out of nowhere, the commander had begun to develop the same feelings for the ranger he had long ago developed for the elf: He would have loved to see him broken at his feet, and be it only to look into the man's grey eyes and not see the prideful contempt glitter there as visibly as a torch in the night.   
  
"What is it, boy?" he asked as they waited for the first tent to be pitched. "No comeback, no witty reply? I had expected more from you."   
  
Aragorn kept looking straight ahead, forcing himself to look neither at the other man nor at his elven friend whose presence he could sense somewhere at his back. It wouldn't help to let Teonvan see his concern for the elf or the feelings of hatred and disdain he held for him.   
"You would not like what I have to say," he said evenly as he watched the men secure the canvas to the wooden poles. "And far be it from my mind to anger you."   
  
"Well, ranger," Teonvan said, feeling how anger once again welled up inside of him, "For that you are doing quite a good job at it."   
  
"Am I?" the other man replied, turning huge, innocent silver eyes on Teonvan.   
  
Behind them, Teonvan could almost hear the two guards suppress a pair of amused snickers, and with another burst of fury he grasped the younger man's arm more tightly and pushed him forward, sending him crashing to the floor just inside the small beige tent. He waited for the ranger to push himself to his knees and did his best to ignore the glare full of burning hatred the young man shot him.   
"Yes, boy," he assured him. "You are."   
  
With a last look at the ranger the commander whirled around and stalked off, knowing full well that he didn't have time to indulge himself in a few games now. Besides, Reran would probably throw a fit if he harmed the ranger – he really a man who didn't understand that there were fine lines a man like himself knew not to cross. He knew how far he could push someone before his limits were reached – a man's, that was. He might have overdone it a little with the elf, yes, but he had practically _asked _for it. The small smile that had appeared on his lips when he had remembered the previous day disappeared quickly when his eyes came to rest on Reran's dark, sombre face on the other side of their campsite. Yes, he thought and turned on his heel to go looking for his lieutenants. He had much to plan, and much to do…   
  
Back in the tent, Aragorn managed to sit up just in time to catch his friend when the guards shoved him into the tent – not even exceedingly roughly, but too roughly for the weakened elf to compensate. The man barely caught Legolas when he lost his balance and fell forward, and he looked up and glared at the man who was just depositing his healing bag and several blankets and other provision on the floor.   
  
"Do something like this again and I and your captain will have a word about it," he threatened darkly, placing his bound hands on Legolas' chest to stop the elf from sitting up. "I am sure Captain Reran would be most displeased if he heard that you are mistreating your prisoner."   
  
The addressed man merely raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and followed his companion out of the tent, their dark shadows plainly visible against the light-coloured canvas as they took up positions left and right of the entrance.   
  
Aragorn was still staring angrily at the tent's now closed entrance when Legolas' soft, rather weak and exhausted voice drew him out of his dark thoughts.   
"You, my friend, should really try not to … antagonise … these men so openly."   
  
The man shrugged slightly and pressed his friend to the floor once more, giving him the best imitation of his father's _look _he could come up with at the moment, cold and worried as he was.   
"I am already containing myself quite admirably," he told the elf. "Stay there. Don't move and don't try to sit up, or…"   
  
"Or what, human?" the elf asked amusedly, but obeyed his friend's order and remained where he was, namely lying on his back.   
  
It was something he would never tell Aragorn, but he was feeling ready to sleep for the next age or two. He had been very close to passing out once or twice today, both from the pain that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his body and the all-encompassing exhaustion and weariness that had filled his heart ever since he had awoken from an uneasy slumber this morning. Yes, it had been true what he had told Aragorn, he _had _feared that Galalith had died from his injuries, but to hear it from Aragorn's lips had been another thing entirely.   
  
Aragorn turned back to his elven friend, noticing that the faint smile that had played about his lips had faded. One needn't be a mind reader to know what Legolas was thinking about, and so he did what his brothers did when faced with a depressed person, namely made bad jokes.   
"I will," he paused dramatically for a second as he put down the new set of bandages and the water flask next to his friend's body, "drug you!"   
  
Had Legolas' hands been unbound and had he had the strength to lift aforementioned appendages, he would have clutched his heart in a wounded gesture.   
"You wouldn't dare, ranger!"   
  
Aragorn raised an incredulous eyebrow and began to spread a blanket over his elven friend, working remarkably quickly for a bound person.   
"I wouldn't dare?"   
  
"Right," Legolas mumbled as he tried to decide whether he had enough energy left to lift his bound hands to stop his friend from behaving like a big, dark haired mother hen, only to come to the conclusion that he didn't possess the strength to even lift an eyebrow. "I forgot whom I was talking to."   
  
"Obviously," Aragorn nodded wryly and pulled the blanket a little to the side to expose Legolas' bound chest. "In order to protect my stitches I would kill you with…"   
  
"…your own hands. Yes, I heard you the first time," Legolas replied, causing Aragorn's jaw to drop which was still hurting from the blow Cendan had dealt it earlier today.   
  
"You … heard me?"   
  
"Yes, and no. I know you said it, but I can't remember you saying it, if that makes any sense at all."   
  
Aragorn's eyes narrowed a little as he tried to decide if any of Legolas' wounds might have been enough to cause such an interesting diction.   
"I … see," he finally said, managing to convey the most profound unbelief in those two words. "You are sure you haven't suffered a head wound you forgot to tell me about?"   
  
"Don't worry about that," Legolas advised him darkly, trying to suppress a wince as the other began to unravel the linen strips that were wrapped tightly around his chest. "I am sure one of them will feel inclined to hit me again soon. You'll get your head wound."   
  
Aragorn stopped in mid-motion, his eyes boring into his friend's.   
"They won't touch you if I have anything to say about it. I promise you, Legolas."   
  
"You might not have anything to say about it, _mellon__ nín_," the elf shook his head minutely. "Don't antagonise them for my sake, please, Estel. I do not want to find out what Reran will do once he loses his temper."   
  
"That would be interesting," Aragorn nodded, carefully avoiding agreeing to his friend's plea. It was a sign for Legolas' poor state of health that he did not press the matter further. "He is not a person I would like to see angry, and I have seen Glorfindel and _ada _furious before, so that means something."   
  
"Wait till we get back home," Legolas mumbled wearily. "My father might not have slain a balrog, but he can get angrier than any other being I have ever met." Suddenly a thought struck him, something he had meant to tell the young ranger ever since he had woken up. He shot the shadows their guards cast onto the light fabric of the tent a quick look. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but I … forgot. They don't know who I am."   
  
"I had guessed as much," the man nodded as he carefully peeled back the bandages, once again cursing Cendan's cautious nature as his right arm protested against the strain put on it by the tight bonds. It had been Cendan as well who had tied together Legolas' wrists in the morning, not cruelly so, but tight enough to ensure that the elf could do nothing with his hands even if he had had the strength for it. "You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
  
"Yes," Legolas nodded. "They don't know who my father is, and, frankly, I don't want them to find out either. As you said: I was simply in the wrong place. And so were Anardir and Galalith."   
  
Aragorn lifted his eyes from the knife wound in his friend's side, a sad sparkle in their grey depths. He felt the same grief as Legolas, but right now the elf might be too weak to withstand it. He turned his eyes back to his work, trying to lighten the mood.   
"So, what did you tell them?"   
  
"Tell them? About what?"   
  
"About who you are," the man elaborated, reaching for the water bottle to clean the wound of what little blood had seeped through the stitches. "I cannot imagine that Reran didn't ask your name."   
  
A light red colour began to creep up the sides of the elf's face and he turned his head to the side, vainly hoping that it would be concealed by the folds of the blanket Aragorn had draped over him.   
"He did."   
  
The elf's words were so soft that the ranger nearly did not understand them, and as soon as he had secured the bandage and could turn to the rest of the cuts, Aragorn returned his attention to his elven friend.   
"So what did you tell him?"   
  
Legolas' pale face turned even redder, and he mumbled something that not even the sharp ears of a ranger could understand. Aragorn stopped washing a cut and looked the elf's in the face, an eyebrow arched in a way that reminded Legolas very much of the man's father.   
"I am sorry?" Aragorn asked. "What was that?"   
  
Legolas sighed softly and turned his head to meet his friend's gaze.   
"You will laugh."   
  
"Never!" the man shook his head.   
  
"Yes, you will," Legolas protested tiredly, pain and exhaustion causing his tone to become slightly childish.   
  
"I'll try not to," Aragorn promised. "Come now, my friend, satisfy my curiosity. What did you tell them?"   
  
The elven prince closed his eyes, wondering if he would manage to lose consciousness before he would have to tell Aragorn about his small bout of madness.   
"Lasseg," he finally whispered, glaring darkly at the man. "I told Reran my name was Lasseg."   
  
Aragorn nearly dropped the water bottle he was holding, barely managing to catch it with his bound hands. His mouth fell open, and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead in a display of surprise that appeared almost laughable in its intensity. For long moments, he simply stared at his dour-looking friend, who glared at him as darkly as a person who wasn't a fallen Vala or Maia could.   
  
After several more moments, the corners of Aragorn's mouth began to twitch, and a small sound that sounded like a mix of a groan and a chuckle could be heard through the lips that were pressed together so tightly that the young ranger's mouth was hardly more than a thin line. Legolas closed his eyes and let his head sink back onto the blankets. Typical.   
  
A few seconds later, the guards outside exchanged a half-surprised, half-incredulous look as laughter filtered through the heavy material of the tent, and both of them simultaneously shook their heads. Rangers.   
  
++++++++++   
  
Reran was trudging through the snow, suddenly wishing it were summer. It wasn't that he was very bothered by the snow, even though it made travelling rather cumbersome and annoying, no, it was more that he wished with all his heart to be able to see a stone he could kick in a childish fit of rage.   
  
He growled almost inaudibly and quickly checked his course, trying very hard to see the single, tall tree that would lead him into the direction of the small ravine that should be somewhere to the north of their camp. He had told Cendan he would be on a short scouting trip to make sure they wouldn't be getting any surprise visitors tonight – to have a ranger walk into your camp without anyone noticing he was there until he decided to show himself was an experience that tended to make you a little bit overcautious.   
  
If Cendan had known that he had simply wanted to get away from the camp, or, more precisely, from Teonvan, he had not commented on it, which once again proved something Reran had known for a long time: His lieutenant was clever. One day he would make a great commander, if they somehow managed to get out of this mess they owed to his beloved second-in-command, that was.   
  
Reran gritted his teeth as he closed the distance between himself and the tree, his eyes straining to see anything through the quickly falling darkness that was beginning to lay itself over the lands like a thick blanket. He had never thought himself to be capable of such strong hatred, but every time he saw Teonvan he came to the conclusion that he hated him with all his heart. The man had tried to convince him not to tell their lord about what had happened yesterday, claiming that it had been the only way to draw out the ranger and that the elf would be completely healed once they reached their home.   
  
That might all even be correct, Reran thought darkly as he reached the tree and turned to the north-east, knowing that the ravine wouldn't be far now. Teonvan might be right and it might have been the only way to make the ranger give himself up, but that was one of the things he would never, ever, admit to anyone, especially not to Teonvan. This opportunity to get rid of his loathsome second-in-command was simply too good to pass by, and even if he had personally saved his life and those of every single of his men – including the elf, mind you – he still wouldn't have agreed to change his plans.   
  
Teonvan would never have done such a thing, of course, and that was the very root of the problem. All that man cared about was his personal pleasure, and if all his men had to die for him to achieve it, he would be more than willing to live with that. Reran resisted the urge to kick a small, snow-covered oak tree and walked on, inwardly fuming. He had seen what Teonvan had done to the elf, and while he would be the first to admit that the prisoner had very likely invited something like this, it was no excuse for Teonvan's behaviour, none at all. Had the ranger not been there, the elf would be dead now, of that Cendan had been certain and was therefore the truth in Reran's opinion.   
  
Oh no, he thought angrily, he would _not _change his mind, and he would be standing in the front row when they finally dragged what was left of Teonvan out of the dungeons to the scaffold when Glamir was finished with him. A dark smile began to spread on his face. Oh yes, that was what he would do, and nothing would be able to stop him…   
  
The man wiped a strand of greying blonde hair out of his eyes, coming to a stop when he realised that he was standing only a few feet away from the ravine's edge. It was indeed only a small one, only a hundred feet deep perhaps, but he still didn't want to find out what it felt like to plummet to your doom. He sighed softly and looked down into the ravine, wondering how in the name of all the Gods he should explain all this to their lord.   
  
He needed the ranger, at least as long as it took the elf to fully recover, and yet he mused if it wasn't best to dispose of him now after all. He was dangerous, as was the elf, and once the fair haired being was back to full strength it would be twice as hard to control him. He really couldn't risk the ranger helping the elf to escape – something he would be entirely capable of, as had been proven by the fact that he had managed to lay a false track and sneak into the camp without anyone noticing. Reran shook his head in grudging respect. He was a boy, a boy who could be his son by all means, and yet he had managed to fool him and his scouts. The grudging respect turned into steely determination. He might be little more than a child, but he was a danger to his mission he would not tolerate.   
  
Reran nodded inwardly, watching how the lengthening shadows moved quickly over the lands to swallow everything in sight, much like they did at home. He would get rid of the ranger as soon as possible, but he would _not _give him to Teonvan, even though he hadn't missed the looks the commander had given both the ranger and the elf over the past day. Teonvan was despicable and would draw it out longer than necessary. He would order Cendan to do it quickly and cleanly; the boy deserved as much. He was talented and skilled in stealth beyond his years, and he would make sure he died quickly and honourably.   
  
The captain's thoughts once again strayed to Teonvan, and he felt how the unease that had been a pressing worry at the back of his mind intensified. He had come to know the man rather well over the past few months, something that had happened quite involuntarily on his part, and even though he would never claim to understand how his mind worked (something he did not desire either, by the way), he knew him well enough to know when he was planning something. He had got that feeling this morning when Teonvan had smiled at him in his subservient, false way that had put him immediately on edge.   
  
No, Reran thought darkly, Teonvan _was _planning something, and it couldn't be good. Yet there was nothing the commander could do, nothing at all. _He_ was captain here, this was an operation under _his _command, and he had the authority and the right to decide over the life or death of every single one of his men, and that included Teonvan. If he decided to take his sword and relieve his second-of-command of his head, it would be well within his rights. His liege would be most displeased and he would therefore never do it of course, but, technically speaking, it was his right.   
  
The blonde captain once again nodded to himself and turned around, only to freeze on the spot when an icy shudder raced down his spine, a shudder that had nothing to do with the snow beneath his boots or the icy wind tearing at his clothes. He had long ago learned to trust his senses, and, right now, they were telling him that he was in trouble, deep trouble. Reran gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, suddenly cursing himself for leaving the camp alone. What had he been thinking?!   
  
A few moments later, three shadowy figures separated themselves from the darkness all around him, and when Reran looked into the smugly grinning faces of his second-in-command and his two lieutenants, he realised that he might just have underestimated Teonvan for the last time.  
  
++++++++++  
  
**TBC...**  
  
++++++++++  
  
_mellon nín - my friend_  
_mûmak__ (sg. of mûmakil) - oliphaunt, one of the great war-elephants of Harad_  
_Tol-in-Gaurhoth - 'Isle of Werewolves', originally called Tol Sirion before Sauron captured it and Minas Tirith at the Pass of Sirion_  
_Dúnedain - 'Men of the West', the Rangers_  
_pen-neth - young one_  
_ada - father (daddy)_  
  
++++++++++  
  


  
**It's not really a cliffy, is it? I mean, it's no main-character-cliffy, that's something, right? I mean, all the main characters are awake and happy - well, maybe not exactly happy, but they're awake. That's definitely something... *g* So, next chapter we'll see a little coup (more or less, anyway), the twins, Celylith, Glorfindel and a surprise character, and more of our intrepid duo, of course. As always: Review, please! *g***  
  


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**Additional A/N:**  
  
**Rei** - I won't even pretend that you're incorrect. As I said in the A/N, I did some research (including some internet sites, btw), and found out that, technically, it was possible, but not very likely to happen or very likely to be survived. You're right, but there is really the chance that the victim survives without surgery, especially with spontaneous pneumothoraka (or whatever the English plural may be) which this isn't, admittedly. As I said: I took some liberties because I really didn't think that Aragorn would carry around syringes and other equipment for draining air our of chest cavities. So, you're right. *g*   
**Gwyn** - Finally, someone who doesn't like Cendan. Lots of people seem to like him - don't ask me why, really - and it's beginning to scare me. But you're right: It was slightly predictable that Glorfindel would accompany them. I wouldn't, not for all the gold in the world, but hey: He's an elf lord. They're kinda weird. *g*   
**Karone**** Evertree** - Yup, it will be remedied soon, don't worry. I wouldn't keep him unconscious all the time - hmm, it's a nice idea now that I think about it though. This way he would be quiet and I would finally be able to write a chapters that's under 19 pages. *g* And sorry to disappoint you, but Aragorn won't tell anyone Legolas' name. He's reckless, but not completely daft. *g*   
**Kirsten** - As I said in the A/N, I am by no means a doctor or trying to become one. I wouldn't last a day, I can't deal with sick people. I am the world's worst nurse. And about the knife wound: I might have phrased it ambiguously, but it was supposed to be on the lower left side, since Teonvan would have been careful not to come too close to the heart. And as I said: Legolas go lucky, otherwise this whole little interesting scenario wouldn't have worked. *g* And you're far too suspicious, the stitches are just fine. That was only Aragorn's I'm-not-as-good-as-elves-personality raising it's ugly head. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!   
**Sadie Elfgirl** - LOL, you're right, that would make an interesting bet. Let's just say that the chances of Aragorn breaking loose are slim to none, that Cendan would love to kill Teonvan but won't unfortunately, and that Reran will soon wish that he HAD killed him. *grins evilly* Yeah, I guess Elrohir loved that little scene, I'm glad you like it too. It was quire funny, too. *g* I like your dignified request. I could never deny it, so here's the next part!  
**Firnsarnien** - *grins wryly* Oh, I'm SURE you loved it. I would have been VERY surprised had you not liked it, in fact. *g* And I am very sure that I didn't do too much damage! There NEVER is too much damage! *evil cackle* Well, yes, there is, if they die it was a tiny bit too much, but... *shrugs* I knew you were going to reactivate the CLF - you people are far too suspicious! Don't worry though, I am not planning to kill him. Celylith: Huh? What about "injure him", then? Nili!! *walks off whistling* Injuring or torturing is an entirely different thing... *evil grin* And that wasn't a cliffy! This one might be, though... *g*  
**Firniswin** - I am glad I didn't offend you. Far be it from my mind to offend my reviewers! *g* You're right of course, Aragorn is going to get himself into a LOT of trouble. It's his own fault, of course. Reckless human. And that chapter wasn't short! It was about 18/19 pages, as all of my stupid chapters. I try to write shorter ones, but I never manage to. Great you like Ráca, even though I can't see why the name merited a war cry. *shrugs* Maybe your brother IS weird.  
**LOTRFaith** - EEk, you did THAT? I mean, I cut myself as well, I tried to cut extremely resilient cardboard and slipped (I still have a rather large rip in one of my favourite pair of jeans), but it wasn't hot. Sounds like fun too, though. *g* And yeah, I am a bad Nili, but I'm sure you already knew that...  
**Deana** - Well, it's now Sunday, so it's at least one time. That's something, right? *g* Sorry for not posting sooner.  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - LOL, I can just imagine that! I especially liked the bit where the little devil was strangling the little angel with its halo... *g* I like such insane little thought. You know, every time C&S call the Ring of Barahir only Barahir I imagine a full grown man hanging on Aragorn's finger. I mean, Barahir was a man, so... *shrugs* Don't tell me, I am weird. Hope you didn't drink too much coffee while waiting 'patiently'! *g*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Well, I'd be cowering too. But the twins weren't of course, since young elf lord do not cower. *g* And the main problem with Aragorn is that he is NOT thinking. I mean, if he were thinking everthing would be a lot different! Oh, and Elladan and Elrohir are most definitely not your usual elves. Of course not since they're half-elves anyway, but... *trails off* Ignore me. And yes, I know the Glorfindel/balrog slayer thing, even though there IS the question if Glorfindel of Gondolin and Glorfindel of Imladris are the same. Tolkien never really said it, so it's up to your own interpretation. Just like with "Do balrogs have wings?". *g*  
**Just Jordy** - Ah, now I understand. Well, there ARE some people who've used wolves before, even though wargs seem to be more popular. And, well, I had to put Glorfindel in since there are loads of poeple screaming for his blood - literally. It's sad, really. *g*   
**MorierBlackleaf** - Yes, I guess "Ouch" is as good a word as any. Rather fitting too, isn't it? Great you like it this far, thanks for the review!  
**Alexa** - You're right, of course - if the four of them ever manage to find our favourite duo without getting eaten by wargs/wolves/orcs/whatever, the men are in trouble. IF being the main word here... *g*   
**Strider's Girl** - Me neither. It's amazing that the story will be over soon. Amazing, but rather reassuring too. Well, I usually review only Zam's, Lina's and Halo's stories, oh, and Miki's. That's because they encouraged me to start writing, and I somehow feel endebted to them. They luckily don't write much, otherwise I wouldn't even have time to do that. As I said in the A/N though, Aragorn won't be injured for a while yet. Legolas needs him right now and the men are rather busy at the moment. Great you received the chapters and could read them, too. That's not always the case. *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - I absolutely agree. I didn't think Aragorn was stupid either. I think he was choiceless, maybe slightly clueless too, but mainly choiceless. *g* The problem with Reran is that he wants Teonvan to make Glamir's acquaintance. That's a mistake, we all know that, but I guess he thinks he couldn't come up with something REALLY good and painful. I see that YOU, however, have come up with rather interesting possibilities. I think I like No. 4 best. As I said, squirrels can be vicious. Have lots of fun on that school vacation of yours!   
**Red Tigress** - Well, I think I like your plan too. The chances of success are rather small, but I like it. Lots of blood and gore. Fun. *g* And what, you think that one of the twins or Celylith or Glorfindel might get hurt? Really? *shakes head* Ridiculous.... *evil grin*  
**Zam**- Okay, ignore it. It's true though. But I REALLY want a Mighty Authoress Control of Doom™! We could have so much fun together! So ... *cue dramatic music* ... what is your price? And no, you can't have the precious or my laptop. Sorry. *g* I'm very glad you like Cendan of course, but I would be careful if I were you! I don't think he likes you very much, besides, won't Celylith get jealous? Mhahahahaha! *runs off while Celylith glares ar Cendan*  
**Sirithiliel** - Well, I'm glad we cleared that up, since I was _really_ confused for a while. I would never steal someone else's plot bunnies, believe me, I have more than enough of my own. *g* Great you liked this chapter, but the twins and the rest won't arrive in a while yet, sorry.   
**Forever Unstoppable** - Oh, don't worry, in the end Teonvan WILL get what he deserves. I am even beginning to plan who is going to kill him. *g* I would never stop writing just like that, never fear, I am far too perfectionist for that. I hate not finishing what I start. *g* So: I'll end this, eventually, don't worry.   
**Calenore** - Uhm, yes and no. They won't kill each other, that much I can tell you. And I agree: FF.net hates all of us. I will never understand why I fear, but it's clear that it does. It's evil, that's why I think. *g*  
**Narina**** Nightfall** - Well, I guess it's more like she will most certainly die. Sorry about that. *g* I still don't think that I can forgive you for nearly drowning one of Elrond's books. Everyone who endangers a book deserves to be killed. *g* I love books. LOL, 'elven twister in the dark'? I guess you could say that... And I like the royal laughing therapists. Thranduil could most certainly use some of them. *g* And of course Cendan was having evil thought, who wouldn't when faced with a stupid superior and a pair of annoying prisoners? Well, I hope you're better after that science fair thing! Dancing most certainly is strenuous!  
**Tychen** - Well, don't worry, I was cringing myself when I wrote it. Everyone who even had a sunburn would cringe. *g* And I agree, Glorfindel will wish for a nice friendly balrog to fight before this whole thing is over. LOL, he can get in as much trouble as them, but he can do it in style? Well, I guess our dear Glorfindel woul agree... *g* And I think you're right, I guess the equation is something like (2E+L+A+C) · d · n / t = a with d being the distance from Rivendell, n the number of enemmies, t the number of days spent in captivity and a the number of wounds. *g* I like it.  
**C. Hobbes** - *g* I LOVE Calvin and Hobbes. Hobbes is great, I've always wanted a tiger just like him. I agree, everything is better than the Thirty Years' War, I am stuck with since Oktober. Luckily it's over soon, otherwise I might go insane. *g* Great you liked that last chapter, I'll hope you'll enjoy the rest as well!  
**Merryelf** - Yeah, I thought so too. I was laughing when I wrote that scene - Elladan didn't think it very funny though, don't ask me why. He and Celylith possess no sense of humour. *shakes head* And yes, I already did know that Estel is wonderful. *huggles him* He really is, isn't he?  
**Nikara** - Yes, I've always thought that it's slightly unbelievable that Elrond is a walking dictionary of 20th-century-medicine. I mean, most of the things known now weren't known even a hundred years ago, so I've always thought it at least highly doubtful that they'd know so much about how a body works back in ME. And you're right of course: Glorfindel might even have been worse than the twins as a youth. Who knows? *g*  
**Orlandofan13** - LOL, I know exactly what you mean! Reviews are the most wonderful thing in the universe! Well, after Diet Coke with Lemon, of course. *g* Well, if your story is a romance you can be assured that I won't read it. The only romances I read from time to time are A/A, and that only about once a year. *g*   
**Starlight** - Ich wuerde da an deiner Stelle nicht die Schuld auf deine Internetnetverbindung schieben. FF.net ist boese und hinterhaeltig. Alles deren Schuld. *g* LOL, das ist doch auch immer das wichtigste: Man muss nicht immer wissen, wie genau etwas funktioniert, man muss nur wissen, dass es wehtut! Und Teonvan hat in der Tat ein wenig ubertrieben, dummer Mann der er ist. Ach, und: Herzlichen Glueckwunsch! Ich hoffe, du magst das Kapitel ein bisschen!   
**Miss Attitude** - Well, that's the main idea. That other people want to read your story and want to know how it's going to end! *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Amelie** - Oh, you were sick? I hope you're better now - being sick is about my least favourite pastime. I don't know about Cendan yet, but I might have to kill him so don't get used to him too much. I agree though: The CLF would be most displeased if I had left Celylith back at Mirkwood. Oh, and don't count on Teonvan running away too soon. I don't think he's willing to admit defeat just yet. I hope you're better now!   
**Elenora1** - Oh, if you think that last chapter was angsty, then wait till you've read this one. I think this one is angstier, but that's only me. I also think that most of the chapter endings aren't cliffies, and most people seem to disagree. *g* It's very nice to hear that you still like the story, and I'm doing my best to post on time. I know how annoying it can be having to wait ages for an update!  
**Estelreader** - Yeah, I agree. I think that, most of the time, Estel IS stupid and reckless, but in this case I think he didn't have any other choice. Hmm, my Aragorn/Legolas dialogues are funny? Well, okay. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Snow-Glory** - Nope, it wouldn't do him much good now. Besides, he's a little bit outnumbered, I think about 16 to 1 or something like that. Well, I hope my English isn't bad, but it would never be enough to publish something. It happens very often that I'm sitting in front of my computer and just don't know how to say what I want to say. And I am sure that Legolas would do something drastic to Aragorn - if he had enough strength, that is! *evil grin*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - *rubs her grazed arm* Dammit, where did that stupid trip wire come from? I could have sworn it wasn't there before... *g* So you're listening to 'interesting' German rap songs? Well, that's ... interesting... *g* And yes, I lived happily ever after - Greek is a wonderful language. I love it. But French isn't bad either. *g* And I agree: Teonvan IS pretty stupid - then again, he isn't really... *trails off mysteriously* I love being mysterious. *g*  
**Iverson** - I really can't see why. I think it's a very nice name, really. Begins with the same letter as mine (and yes, now we can start guessing! *g*), so of course I like it. And your reasoning is correct of course: Aragorn didn't really have any other choice, I mean, he couldn't have left Legolas there, could he? *shakes head* No, of course he couldn't. And believe it or not, I have thought about publishing something since I - obviously - love to write, but I haven't had a real inspiration yet. I hope that will change though. *g*   
**Kikyo** - LOL, yes, most people did saw that coming. Glorfindel is indeed rather predictable, isn't he? *g* Thanks for the compliments, and I hope as well that my muse may forever be healthy and active. Judging by the plot bunnies I keep in the cellar in a cage though, she most definitely is... *g*  
**Critternut** - *g* You don't have to be sorry. It's just a stupid reaction on my part, no fault of yours, really. I might do something equally painful to Legolas though, would that be okay? *g*  
**Elenillor** - Yes, long chapters ARE good - if other people write them. I try - and fail to - keep them under 16 pages, and it's usually like that: *Nili sits in front of her computer screen and has just finished another chapter. She then proceeds to count the pages* "Two - eight - fifteen - eighteen - nineteen and a half? NOOO!!!! Why? It can't be nineteen! A second ago it were only fifteen!! Why!! WHY can't I make them shut up!!!" *coughs* Well, at least something like that. *g*  
**Marbienl** - Well, there are many way to be charming, you know. I'd just say that you're not what most people (including myself) would call charming. Don't worry though: Neither am I. *g* I liked Dorey too, she was just a little bit annoying. I really liked the sea turtles, and the fish with the bubbles. *g* He was cool. Oh, and about your plan: You DO realise that Reran and Co. are professionals? They would have killed a stranger rather than allowing him to stay in their camp or walk around to tell people what he'd seen. Sorry about that, it wouldn't have worked. Thanks for pointing that one thing out for me. Such things happen from time to time, and since it's not a grammtical or orthograpical mistakes they're hard to catch. And don't worry, you will find out what the ED wants with Legolas, which is really quite obvious I think. In about chapter 20 I think. *g*  
**Suzi9** - Does it? Have popcorn-grabbing-moments? Well, I'll just trust that's a good thing and take it as a compliment... *g* And I am NOT all violent. I am a kind, but misunderstood person. Yup, that's me. *grins innocently* I don't know yet if Cendan will survive all this, but I might allow you to borrow him for a while after this fic is over. I have the bad feeling that he won't be very happy about that... *g* LOL, the RRS, the Ranger Responsibility Syndrome? I like that... Your cousin did that? If I were you, I'd check for Númenórean blood about ... now? I mean, what else can it be? Other than the fact that he's male and therefore automatically stupid and reckless? You know, there is a littel problem with Glorfindel: I have people out there screaming for his blood - literally. They WANT me to hurt him, and who am I to deny several peoples' requests? *innocent smile* Sorry... *blinks* You almost never wore trousers? Jeez, that's backwards alright. I never wore dresses or skirts - I hated them and still do most of the time. And yes, it WAS your fault, no, I am not a female Elladan, and yes, you ARE a reckless Scot. End of story. *g* I really hope you're better, and I am very impressed that you know how to use a sewing machine. I can knit, but I couldn't sew anything to save my life! *g*   
  
***is very much hoping that the formatting won't be screwed up* Thanks a lot for all the reviews! As I have said many times in the past: Thanks so much and all of you really help me a lot! *huggles reviewers***  
  



	18. Change of Course

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**A/N:  
  
Ah, yes, the dreaded question has been asked again: How long is this story going to be? As always, the answer is unfortunately less than precise: I don't know. *g* Sorry. Well, let's say I was planning to do about 30 chapters, and I still hope to reach that goal, plus/minus two. Nah, make that plus two, because there is absolutely NO way I am wrapping this up in 28 chapters. So: I _hope_ to end this in another 12 chapters, but, to be honest, I am not very optimistic right now. I tend to write too much about unimportant things so that in the end I have trouble getting to the really important developments and characters. I'll let you know in a few chapters if it should be much more than 30 - Jeez, I hope not. *g*  
  
Another thing most people have asked at one point or other: Will Adruran (you know, the 'reasonable' guy from THOM) be back? The answer to that is rather simple: No, he won't. I mean, he would have be completely stupid or mad to go anywhere near his - obviously unstable - lord after having betrayed him only a few months prior! I don't know yet if anyone will find out that he's still alive, but he definitely won't make an appearance. *shakes head* I didn't save him last story so he could be massacred in this one.   
  
And, last but not least, since I'm answering questions anyway right now: Will Elrond make an appearance? That question I can only answer with the most heart-felt I have not the slightest idea. *g* I really don't know, but if I had to answer it right now, I'd say No, probably not. Sorry about that, but it would kind of ruin the ending I am very carefully planning at the moment, so the answer is a uncertain No. Sorry about that, I know how much most of you want to see him, but we can't have everything. Should I write a sequel to the sequel to the sequel of the story (*broad grin*), it might take place in Rivendell though. That's something, right? *g*  
  
Alright, here is the next chapter, namely chapter 18, in which we see who has thrown whom down where, some people surprise some other people (yes, I am trying not to give anything away! *g*), Aragorn and Legolas finally put two and two together and the twins, Celylith, our surprise character and Glorfindel get incredibly lucky. Perhaps the Valar don't hate them after all.  
  
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Chapter 18   
  
Cendan fought the very tempting urge to start pacing.   
  
It wasn't that anything prevented him from doing so – all his men knew better than to make comments about anything he said or did – nothing but his own pride, of course. He had not grown up among his mother's people, but he had always prided himself on his unflappable composure his eastern kin were known for, and now would not be the time to abandon an attitude he had been cultivating ever since he had been old enough to realise how easy it was to make people feel uncomfortable by merely looking at them expressionlessly.   
  
The dark haired lieutenant ground his teeth, suddenly very glad that night had fallen some hours ago and that the darkness was obscuring his features. It wouldn't do to show the men how worried he really was. Worry – that was a feeling he wasn't well accustomed with. He wasn't worried very often – in fact, he was worried quite seldom. There were few people about whose fates he would be concerned in any way, and it would be pointless to worry for himself. He very rarely made mistakes, and everything else lay in the hands of the Gods; it was useless to struggle against a fate that had been determined for you a long time ago.   
  
And yet he was – worrying. Cendan smiled inwardly, a smile that died quickly when he remembered why he was experiencing that particular emotion. To make it short, it was because of two things: Because of the fact that his captain was still not back, after several hours, and because Teonvan had unsuccessfully been trying to stifle an exceptionally large, smug grin the last time he had seen him.   
  
Captain Reran knew how to look after himself, otherwise he would never have risen to the rank of Captain. To become a captain in their lord's army was something only the best and most ruthless and skilled men achieved, and no-one who couldn't protect himself would have managed to become even a lieutenant. Yes, the captain most definitely knew how to defend himself, he told himself firmly, and yet he should have been back long ago. Besides, if Teonvan was happy, it wasn't a good sign, under no circumstances, that was something he had found out quickly.   
  
A few minutes later, Cendan turned around with a disgusted shake of his head and began to walk over to the main fire, his dark blue eyes automatically wandering over to the positions the guards should occupy – he had still not truly recovered from the shock of having that ranger walk into the camp without anyone noticing. True, it had been the plan to have the man come to them, but the guards should have suspected his presence if not detected it! His men were well-trained, and the fact that that ranger who was even younger than he had just walked into his camp at his own leisure did not sit well with him at all.   
  
Well, in fact quite a few things didn't sit well with him at the moment, beginning with their mission in general, Teonvan's presence, the two prisoners, Teonvan's presence, Reran's continued absence, Teonvan's presence and about another hundred things in addition to that. He had never liked the man, not even before this mission, but now his dislike had turned into a loathing that ran so deep that it threatened to break through his carefully erected mental shields. He knew one of the younger guards who had been assigned to guard duty in the dungeons some months ago, and during an evening spent in a tavern in the lower city the other man had told him some details about Teonvan's way of treating his prisoners – details he hadn't really wanted to hear and that had caused him to stay away as far from the man as he could without giving the impression that he was afraid of him.   
  
And he wasn't afraid of him, he truly was not. Teonvan preferred his "captives" helpless and weak, and he knew that he would lose a limb – or all of them – if he even thought about laying a hand on him. Still, he disliked him as fiercely as he had ever disliked a person, and he would have loved to be allowed to kill him. Well, maybe Captain Reran would allow him to do just that if Teonvan kept annoying him as he had this past day. He would make a careful suggestion along these lines as soon as the captain got back, he nodded to himself as he strode over to the fire. He knew that his superior would prefer to bring Teonvan in front of their lord and to have him thrown into the dungeons for his arbitrary acts, but he might be able to convince him to change his mind about that…   
  
A moment later he reached the brightly burning fire and stopped next to it, his eyes coming to rest on one of the men who had stood to his feet once he had seen the lieutenant approach.   
"When are the other scouts due to return?" he asked curtly, the emotionless façade once again firmly in place.   
  
"Soon, sir," the man answered, his eyes unconsciously straying to the edges of the camp. Three other scouts had left about an hour after Captain Reran to make sure that they were indeed alone here. "They should be back any minute now and…"   
  
"…will report that there's nothing to worry about," Teonvan's soft, somewhat oily voice interjected, and Cendan had to fight the urge to draw his knife. Oh, how much he despised this man! Teonvan stepped closer, an odd sparkle in his eyes when he looked at Reran's lieutenant. "You worry about the captain, Lieutenant? How very … unusual for you."   
  
For a second, something wild and very dangerous flashed in the young man's eyes before he regained control over himself again, and the man standing next to his two superiors felt how an icy shudder raced down his spine. He wouldn't want to see the lieutenant look at him like that; not now, not ever. He had always known about Cendan's eastern blood, but never until now had he made the connection to the fierce, blood-thirsty warriors he had met in battle once or twice. Never until now.   
  
"I do not … 'worry' about Captain Reran, Commander," Cendan said very softly, his eyes boring into Teonvan's. "The captain knows perfectly well how to look after himself."   
  
"Oh, of course he does," Teonvan agreed slyly, the unreadable sparkle once again shining brightly in his eyes. "Yet you are concerned because he is not back yet."   
  
"He is my captain," Cendan merely said, but shook his head after a moment. Loyalty was something a man like Teonvan would never be able to understand.   
  
Before either of them could say more, a low murmuring sound ran through the camp, and Cendan looked up, feeling how his heart did something rather peculiar: It froze in sudden fear. The young man frowned as his eyes scanned the tree line, fixing on the small group of men that were coming closer, forming a rather odd shape he couldn't explain at once. Seldom had he feared something or someone other than his lord, and still he found that, suddenly, he was afraid of what the men who were coming closer seemed to carry.   
  
Cendan slowly turned fully around, followed by Teonvan who wore an expression of surprise and mild reluctance.   
"What is the meaning of this?" the commander demanded to know when the first man, one of the scouts that had been sent out earlier, reached the main fire. "What are you doing?"   
  
The man looked from Teonvan to the young dark haired lieutenant next to him, strangely pale and looking as if the sky had just come down on his world, an expression that was similar to those of the other men. Cendan resisted the urge to close his eyes. He already knew what had happened, knew it with such certainty that it might just as well have been presented to him engraved in a large stone column.   
  
"There … there…" the man stammered, obviously at a loss. He took a deep breath and tried again. "There must have been an accident, sirs."   
  
Without another word he stepped aside, revealing what the two other members of his scouting mission were carrying on a litter that had obviously been hastily constructed, using two roughly hewn young trees and what looked like two of the men's cloaks. The third cloak was draped over what Cendan immediately identified as a body – a body wearing Captain Reran's boots.   
  
"We don't know what happened, sirs," the man went on, his eyes unconsciously drawn to Lieutenant Cendan's face that was as pale and emotionless as a white marble statue. "We decided to have a look at the northern area as well, just to make sure, and the lad," he nodded at the younger of the two scouts, "spied him lying at the bottom of the ravine. There was not enough light to see any tracks, and we have probably destroyed what might have been there when we climbed down to get him up, but from what one can see he must have somehow lost his balance and fallen. Captain Reran … he's dead, sirs."   
  
The words caused the low murmurs to rise in intensity, and soon the entire camp was buzzing like a beehive. After a few moments, the noise died down when Teonvan raised a hand, the mysterious sparkle appearing and then disappearing quicker than a mortal eye could follow.   
"What do you mean, dead? Do you mean to say that the captain fell down a cliff and died?"   
  
The addressed man answered something, but Cendan had lost all interest in what was happening around him. An unbelieving numbness spread inside of him, and he slowly stepped forward until he was standing next to the litter the two scouts had set down. He slowly crouched down and reached out to grab the edge of the cloak that was covering the captain's body. For a moment, he hesitated to lift the fabric, but then he did, slowly exposing the face and torso of his dead captain.   
  
Most of the men gave the dead man's face only a cursory look, which was understandable since it was not a pretty sight. The rocks that had obviously been at the bottom of the ravine had not been too kind to Reran, and large and small scratches covered most of his face. What was visible of his clothing was torn and bloodied, but the scouts had been right: There appeared to be no mortal wound on the blonde man's body. No sign that anything but the fall had killed him was visible, no knife wound, no broken arrow, nothing.   
  
Teonvan gave the body lying at his feet a quick look before averting his eyes and scanning the men, who appeared to be torn between disbelief and mild shock.   
"The captain should not have strayed so far from the camp at night; it is a mistake he paid for with his life."   
  
Cendan's muscles seemed to tense at the commander's words, but he made no move to rise and merely remained where he was, staring at Reran's pale, destroyed face.   
  
Teonvan gave the young man a quick look but dismissed him as a threat when it became apparent that the other man did not intend to speak. He would prefer Cendan to work with him instead of against him, at least until they reached their home. Without the young lieutenant's co-operation it would be hard to control the men; he would hate to have to get rid of the boy too. Inwardly, he grinned. He would do it though, without a second's hesitation. If he proved to be as stubborn as Reran, he would have to be disposed of. He couldn't risk anyone telling their lord about his little misconduct earlier as Reran had threatened to, could he?   
  
He turned back to the first scout.   
"You are sure it was an accident?"   
  
Inwardly, he was grinning like a maniac. Of course it appeared like an accident; he and his lieutenants had made sure of that. Reran had known he had been about to die and had put up quite a fierce fight, but he had been outnumbered three to one. He had enjoyed it quite a lot to watch Caellan break his neck in the end.   
  
The other man nodded slowly, his eyes filled with worry and a little fear. He and all of the men knew what this meant: The command would fall to Teonvan. He winced inwardly. They would all be lucky if they made it back home in one piece.   
"As far as we can tell: Yes, sir."   
  
Teonvan suppressed a large smile and gave the assembled men a sharp nod.   
"Very well then. The burial will take place tomorrow morning, before we leave; we don't have the means to take the captain's body all the way back home, even in this weather. I hereby officially assume command until our lord can appoint another captain. For the rest of this mission, I am the captain. Understood?"   
  
The men nodded their heads and mumbled affirmatives, most of them with a pained wince they tried to hide as best as they could. Teonvan didn't pay them any attention; they would not challenge him, for that they had neither the intelligence nor the courage. He took a step closer to Cendan who was still kneeling on the ground, staring at Reran's scratched, lifeless face as if his life depended on it.   
  
"Have I made myself clear?" he asked, watching the dark haired man closely for any signs that he might challenge his authority. "Do you understand, Lieutenant?"   
  
For long moments, Teonvan thought the younger man had either not heard him or was ignoring him, but then the dark haired lieutenant reached out and slowly pulled back the cloak until it once again covered the dead man's face, a gesture of odd finality. The young man remained where he was for another moment, his eyes still fixed on his captain's body, before he stood to his feet in a fluid motion, his face expressionless and devoid of all emotion.   
  
"Yes," he said softly, dark blue eyes fixing on Teonvan's face with the intensity of a predator that had just caught sight of its prey. "Yes, I understand … Captain."   
  
Then he turned on his heel and left the fireplace without another word.   
  


++++++++++  
  


  
  
This was turning into some kind of routine, Legolas thought darkly as he was once again pulled off his horse's back, both to his and the animal's profound relief.   
  
He scowled inwardly as he was pulled to his feet and pushed into the direction of one of the smaller tent, just like every evening. Even though his elven healing abilities had enabled him to heal from a substantial part of his injuries, he was still weak and far from healed. Even though he hadn't told Aragorn about it, he still had trouble drawing breath from time to time, and the healing cuts hurt considerably.   
  
He knew that his friend had needed to stitch some of them and especially the stab wound, but that didn't make them any less painful. For the better part of this day he had firmly believed that a colony of fire ants was busy building their new home in his chest, which was entirely ridiculous of course, he was perfectly aware of that now. It were termites, not fire ants. They were apparently of a particularly sneaky, invisible and thoroughly evil kind, but he was sure they were there.   
  
With a quick shake of his head he returned to the present as he was rather roughly shoved forward, around the large fireplace that was in the process of being put up. The elf didn't even bother to turn around and scowl at the guard who had so impolitely pushed him, knowing full well that it would avail him nothing but perhaps a blow to the face. Unconsciously, his eyes wandered over the men bustling around the camp, searching for Reran's calm face, only to remember a second later that the man was dead.   
  
Legolas snorted inwardly. Dead – murdered more likely. He and Aragorn had only needed to trade one look when they had heard about Reran's death two days ago to know that they both thought the same: If Reran had really fallen off that cliff, Sauron was in reality a kind and misunderstood person.   
  
The fair haired elf was pulled to a stop in front of what he had come to call "their" tent, and he ducked his head and quickly stepped into the small space before the man could push him again. He'd had his share of being pushed around these past few days – besides, the termites probably wouldn't like it.   
  
He had just sat down heavily and leant against the main tent pole with a small weary sigh when the front flap was thrown to the side and Aragorn was thrown in, accompanied by an annoyed growl one of the guards must have ground out. Legolas gritted his teeth as he reached out with his bound hands to help his friend sit up, noticing with displeasure that another pair of bruises marred the man's already rather bruised face. When he had last seen Aragorn about noon, those two marks hadn't been there, he thought angrily.   
  
"Good evening," he smiled slightly, gripping the ranger's left arm to pull him upright. "You are making new friends, I see?"   
  
"Oh yes," Aragorn nodded, raising his tied hands to carefully touch his bruised jaw. "I think I am getting through to them. That one hesitated for about half a second before hitting me, I'm sure about it."   
  
"Real progress," Legolas nodded back. "As long as you don't start annoying them again, you just might succeed in getting us out of here."   
  
"You're right," the man agreed and slowly began to move over to the bags the guard had dropped next to the entrance. "Somehow these people seem to be quite short-tempered."   
  
He grabbed the bags containing his rapidly depleting supply of healing herbs and bandages and turned back around, only to come face to face with a very stern, worried elven face. Legolas had regained much of his colour and the cuts and bruises were all but healed, but he was still too pale and looked anything but healthy.   
  
"I wish you would stop it, Estel," the elf said softly, reaching out with his hands to gently touch his friend's multicoloured jaw. "As much as I might appreciate your sense of humour, you must cease your foolish attempts to draw attention to yourself."   
  
"I?" Aragorn asked incredulously. "_I _must cease my attempts to draw attention to myself? If I remember correctly, my friend, and I am rather sure I do, by the way, it was _you _who insulted Teonvan this morning."   
  
Legolas shrugged lightly, quickly hiding a wince when the termites in his chest renewed their attempts to burrow a thousand tiny holes into his breast. Rather irritable animals, weren't they?   
"I wasn't insulting him. I voiced a well-founded fact, that's all."   
  
"Right," his human friend snorted darkly, beginning to sift through the contents of the bag as quickly as his bound hands permitted him. "You can count yourself lucky he didn't repeat his little 'games' from earlier! You called him a dim-witted, sick, pitiable excuse for one of the Second People!" Aragorn looked up, eyes filled with barely controlled anger and worry now. "In front of most of the men, too!"   
  
"So I did," Legolas replied emotionlessly. "And I was right to say it."   
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes in annoyance and returned his attention to his bag, therefore missing the worried sparkle in the elf's eyes. Legolas watched the young man as he piled up the healing utensils next to him, mumbling under his breath about proud, irritating elves. He was no fool, and he didn't enjoy being hit either. He hadn't told Teonvan what he had told him just for spite or to satisfy his own pride, he had told him out of the exact same reason he had chastised his friend for only a few moments ago: To draw attention to himself, or rather draw attention away from Aragorn.   
  
Legolas shook his head. That reckless human had never known when to remain silent, and it appeared that that was something that had not changed. That wasn't the reason though why he had told the brown haired commander the first thing he had been able to come up with – and it had been a rather lame insult, he was aware of that. Had he had a little more time, he would have been able to think of something much more elegant.   
  
No, the real reason was that Teonvan seemed to have developed an … interest in the young ranger, for a lack of better word. Legolas refused to think about what that might implicate, but fact was that the dark, dangerous sparkle that was visible every time the human commander looked at him could now also be seen when he looked at Aragorn, and that was a situation he wouldn't tolerate. He was a lot safer in this camp than his human friend, and if he had to insult Teonvan every time he saw him to make sure that the man's attention was fixed on him and not on the young man, so be it.   
  
He blinked twice when Aragorn started to speak again, grey eyes worried and dark in his bruised face.   
"I know what you are trying to do, _mellon nín_," he told the elf softly as he took the last rolled-up bandage out of the bag. "I am no fool. You are trying to protect me. I thank you, but don't, please. I can look after myself."   
  
"Under any other circumstances I would agree with you, Strider," Legolas sighed, "But this time I think you're wrong. Neither you nor I will be able to look after ourselves in the foreseeable future. And I promised your father to look after you before he left. I have failed him too many times in past. I won't fail him again."   
  
"Remember that when _ada _is strangling me when I see him again," Aragorn advised darkly and began to push his friend's shirt to the side, trying to ignore the elf's protests. A second later he looked up again, mild annoyance on his face. "Stop this! I have to change the bandages, or do you want the wounds to fester and…"   
  
"No," Legolas answered quickly, a small smile on his lips. "You would never let me forget it, would you?"   
  
"Most assuredly not," Aragorn nodded with a rather smug expression on his face. "I would also tell your father about your reckless behaviour that could have cost you your life. Not to mention Celylith, Hithrawyn…"   
  
"Alright! Alright!" the elven prince said with a small smile. "Do what you must."   
  
"Of course," Aragorn nodded again, the smug expression being replaced by an evil grin. "Lasseg."   
  
"Strider!" the elf rolled his eyes, "We agreed you would not let anyone know that that is not my real name!"   
  
"We did," Aragorn grinned broadly, "No-one will find out about it from me, I promise you. But I never said anything about what I would do when we were alone, did I?"   
  
"You are sounding like one of your brothers," Legolas shook his head, concentrating on breathing deeply and evenly as his friend began to unravel the bandages that wound around his torso. "For an elf that would be perturbing – for a man it is positively terrifying."   
  
"I'll let them know about that as soon as we see them again," the man grinned, but a worried expression soon began to spread over his face when he saw the pain on Legolas' features the elf couldn't hide in time. "Tell me … tell me what you know about Rhûn," he finally added, trying to find a subject that would take his friend's thoughts off the pain he was so obviously in.   
  
Legolas smiled slightly through gritted teeth, knowing what the ranger was intending but not protesting against it.   
"No-one knows much about the eastern regions of Rhûn, and it appears that they are to be our destination."   
  
"Let's assume that they're taking us somewhere close to the Sea," Aragorn replied, his eyes not leaving the healing cuts he had exposed. They were looking much better already, but were still raw, red and looked immensely painful. "Tell me what you know about the Sea of Rhûn."   
  
"It's … it's, well, it's a great lake, essentially," the elf ground out, ignoring the ranger's worried look. "The Celduin empties itself into it. The lands surrounding it are wild and dangerous, populated with an equally wild and dangerous people. The Easterlings are fierce warriors and not to be trifled with."   
  
"I know," Aragorn nodded. "They invaded Wilderland and even Gondor many times in the past."   
  
"Aye, they did," Legolas agreed. "Yet little is known about their homeland. I have never been there and have only ever seen maps in my father's library. Not one of _ada's _warriors who are still here on Arda have been there in the past three thousand years, as far as I know." The elf fell silent for a moment, trying not to concentrate on the pain that was pulsing through his body, and added after a second, "Oh, and the lands of Dorwinion are said to be on the north-western shores of the Sea of Rhûn. The best wines come from there."   
  
"That is something that would occur only to a wood-elf," Aragorn grumbled good-naturedly.   
  
"One has to set one's priorities," Legolas smiled painfully. "You Noldor are a rather dreary bunch."   
  
"You have probably never been in Rivendell over Winter Solstice, have you?" Aragorn retorted while he carefully spread ointment over the healing cuts. "Wait till you've seen Erestor and Glorfindel drunk before saying something like that."   
  
"I would like to be there this year," Legolas said wistfully. "Rivendell is beautiful in the spring." He grimaced darkly. "I doubt it somehow though."   
  
The young man forced the sudden pang of homesickness the elf's words caused to the back of his mind and forced himself to nod.   
"Yes, it is indeed beautiful. We _will _be there, my friend, trust me. We _will _get out of here."   
  
"You misunderstand me," the elf shook his head wearily. "Even if we get out of here, my father will kill me or throw me into the dungeons at the very least. I won't be going anywhere in the near future, and least of all to Imladris."   
  
"We'll see," Aragorn merely shrugged. "But I think we should be trying to escape before these people have dragged us all the way to the Sea of Rhûn. Do you have any idea, any at all, who their lord is and where they are going? You have been here far longer than I have."   
  
Legolas shook his head again, noticing with some relief that Aragorn was finished with his chest and was re-bandaging it now. At least there seemed to be no termites, he told himself wryly, unless they were invisible of course. Yes, he thought as the pain suddenly spiked when the first bit of linen touched his skin. They were invisible and very, very, angry right now.  
"No, I have not. Some of the things the men said indicate that their home is somewhere to the South-West of the Sea."   
  
"That fits," Aragorn nodded as he wrapped a long strip of linen around the elf's torso. "We're still following the river, but we're keeping more and more to the South. If we keep this going at this pace and in this direction, we shall soon reach the western shores of the Sea of Rhûn."   
  
"But there's nothing there, nothing of importance anyway," Legolas protested weakly. "According to our information there's nothing but small settlements, mountains and forests there."   
  
"Mountains. Wonderful," Aragorn mumbled under his breath. "That's exactly what I need now." He paused a moment while he was putting most of the bandages and herbs back into the bag. "How new is that information of yours?"   
  
"Not old," Legolas attempted to shrug and stopped in mid-motion, remembering the now apparently slumbering termites just in time. "About … 150 years?"   
  
The dark haired man blinked twice, eyes wide and unbelieving.   
"150 years are a long time for Men, my friend."   
  
The elven prince grimaced, allowing his friend to tip his head to the side to inspect the fading cuts on his cheek. He had just come to that conclusion as well.   
"Well, some things appear to have changed."   
  
"Truer words have never been spoken," Aragorn smiled slightly. "Someone seems to have built a realm there."   
  
"More than that," the elf said grimly. "If Teonvan and the others are any indication at all, that someone seems to have built an army as well. A good one."   
  
Aragorn felt how his heart clenched in fury and even a little fear when he heard the human commander's name. He had never met an individual he had so thoroughly loathed after spending such short an amount of time in his company – except maybe Donyc, the leader of the men who had captured him last autumn. The young man suppressed a shudder. He did _not _want to think of Donyc now.   
  
He hadn't realised he had fallen silent and had begun to stare into space before Legolas' hands touched his shoulder lightly in a reassuring gesture.   
"He is not Donyc, Estel. This is not Eskadol. Your brothers and father are safe."   
  
The dark haired ranger raised his head and looked his friend in the eye, a grateful and at the same time amused sparkle in his eyes. Just how did Legolas always know what he was thinking? Sometimes it was really scaring him.   
"I hope so," he answered softly. "I hope they are safe, my friend."   
  
Before Legolas could say more, he hurriedly changed the topic, having decided that he had no desire to speak of this any further. He dropped his eyes to the bag in his lap and began to rummage through its depths, looking for a small tin containing a salve that would soothe the bruised skin of his friend's face.   
  
"Doesn't it make you wonder, by the way?"   
  
"What, Estel?"   
  
"That Teonvan has behaved so reservedly," the man answered, carefully applying the healing salve to the healing wounds. "After Reran's 'accident' I had thought he would … well, I don't know what I expected, apart from dying that very same evening."   
  
"He is no fool," Legolas said darkly, hissing softly when the slightly stinging ointment came into contact with his skin. "He knows that he will be doomed if he doesn't bring me home to their lord, and he needs you to make sure that I do arrive there alive. Besides, I do not think that the men would tolerate such a behaviour, _especially _after Reran's death."   
  
"Still, he is a desperate man," Aragorn grimaced, carefully tipping the elf's head to the side and eyeing his handiwork. "And we mustn't forget that desperate men are the most dangerous."   
  
"Indeed," the elven prince agreed and finally wrenched his face out of the man's grasp. There were limits as to how far he was willing to put up with his friend's mothering attitude, after all. "But, right now I think Teonvan is too busy consolidating his position to be able to indulge in his … 'games'. The men know as well what will happen if they return to their mysterious lord empty-handed; they will not allow them to seriously harm us."   
  
Inwardly, Legolas was not so certain about that fact. Teonvan was no normal person who could be expected to act sensibly; he was a madman who had very likely murdered his direct superior. Right now the man was still feeding on the memories of what he had done to him four days ago, one could see it in his eyes. Legolas shuddered, both because of the dark memories that washed over him and the realisation that, some day soon, that would no longer be enough for the brown haired commander.   
  
He looked at his human friend, vowing inwardly not to let Teonvan lay a single finger on him. He had found out first-hand what the man was capable of; there was no way he would allow that sick excuse for a human being to have his 'fun' with Aragorn.   
  
"Are you finished?" he asked quickly, eager to interrupt the silence that had fallen between them. Not waiting for the young ranger to answer, he slowly and carefully shifted away from the pole and pulled a rather startled Aragorn forward, pressing him against the wooden pole with a smug smile. "Now let me see to you."   
  
"I am perfectly alright!" the man protested rather indignantly and equally predictably. "A few bruises, nothing more. Besides, you are in no condition to treat me even if I were hurt, which I am not. Don't try to deny it, you are still having trouble breathing. You need rest."   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes. How in Eru's name did Aragorn do that? It had to be one of these things you learned when you were instructed in the healing arts, he finally concluded. Lord Elrond and Hithrawyn were just the same, only a little bit more subtle most of the time.   
  
"Me having trouble breathing or not is not the point here, _mellon nín_," he told the man sternly. "What matters is that you are _not_ 'perfectly alright'. You are not the only one who is gifted with some power of observation. Your arm pains you."   
  
"Arm?" Aragorn asked innocently, successfully looking anywhere but at the mentioned appendage. "Which one? I have two, you know."   
  
For a moment, Legolas wondered if it was possible to strangle a person with your hands bound in front of you, but before he could put it to the test, the canvas covering the tent's entrance was moved to the side and their two guards entered the small space, accompanied by a gush of cold air that caused Aragorn to shudder slightly. It had stopped snowing some days ago, but the winds were still icy and the lands remained covered in white.   
  
One thing he had to give these people, the young ranger thought for the umpteenth time, was that they were professionals. It was something that was very unfortunate, because it meant that every time they were together they were guarded by men with crossbows ready to fire. Just like now, he grimaced inwardly. One of the men held their "evening meal", namely water and two small rations of bread and dried meat, while the other remained at the entrance, his crossbow pointed unwaveringly at both of them.   
  
Both the blonde elf and the ranger merely stared at the two men, both taking substantial satisfaction in the swiftly growing nervousness that could easily be seen on the men's features, and the man holding the food shifted his weight uneasily, stepping closer to them than he had to in his hurry to get out of this tent and as far away from these two as his orders permitted him. The man had just set the food down when his companion's hand grasped the back of the man's cloak and pulled him back, nearly causing him to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap.   
  
"Are you mad?" he hissed at his staggering companion. "You know the orders! No-one's to get too close to the two of them! They are dangerous!"   
  
The other man merely raised his hands in annoyance.   
"Alright! Calm down, there was no harm done! It won't happen again!"   
  
The second guard growled in annoyance and gave the two prisoners a dark look, regretting it instantly when a pair of burning glares threatened to propel him backwards. He shoved his friend out of the door, shaking his head.   
"See to it that it doesn't happen again! The new captain wouldn't be happy if these two managed to escape! Besides, don't you remember what happened to Captain Adruran's men? They underestimated the Elves, and look where it got the lot of them!"   
  
The other man mumbled something, and a second later both the men were gone and had reassumed their posts next to the tent's entrance, their shadows that were cast by the torches that lit the camp visible against the light-coloured canvas.   
  
Legolas blinked as he slowly looked at his human friend, the healing utensils he had snatched out of the man's grasp a few moments ago forgotten. That was what he had been trying to remember the whole time; the similarities between this group of people and the one they had met on the slopes of Erebor were simply too many and too striking to be just a coincidence…   
  
Aragorn merely looked back at the fair haired elf, silver eyes shocked and impossible large for his face.   
"Oh dear."   
  
Legolas pressed his lips together until they were no more than a thin, bloodless line and swallowed hard.   
"Oh dear is right." 

  
++++++++++ 

   
Once again, Celylith was beginning to doubt his own sanity. In fact, he was sure that what sanity he'd had at the beginning of this little journey had leaked out through his ears by now.   
  
He shot the twins a dark look, noting to his substantial satisfaction that Lord Glorfindel was doing the same. The golden haired elf lord had shown amazing patience until now, a patience he was sure one could only acquire when one had been born in the First Age or before that. He, however, had most assuredly not been born in the First Age of this world but rather in the Third, and was finding it hard to refrain from strangling one or both of Lord Elrond's sons. The Lord of Rivendell would probably not be too amused by that, but the momentary gratification he would gain from such an act would definitely be worth it.   
  
The silver haired elf shook his head, marvelling at his own restraint. Elladan and Elrohir together were hard enough to bear at the best of times, but when they were worried they were positively intolerable. And, right now, they were not only worried; they were irritable, nervous, testy and extremely sarcastic. A combination that had made these past four days the longest of his entire life, and that included the two days Legolas and he had involuntarily spent in an orc camp after having … underestimated their numbers slightly. Back then he had been unconscious for quite a long amount of time, after all. Now, however, they had stopped only to let their horses rest. It was a course of action the twins had suggested, and it had been the only thing Celylith had agreed on with the brothers for the past few days. The sooner they found a trace of Aragorn or Legolas and his captors, the sooner he would be rid of the two of them.   
  
The twins, however, were not even the worst of it. The very, very worst thing that had happened when they had been about to leave the palace had been Rashwe. The elf sighed inwardly. He should have known, shouldn't he? When they had reached the stables to make their horses ready the large white horse must have sensed what they were about to do, for it immediately began to rear up, neigh and generally make such a racket that they had been sure that the guards would be upon them any second now. Celylith had tried everything to calm down the animal, but in the end he had only been able to pacify it by agreeing to take it as a mount on this journey.   
  
He truly did not know how Rashwe had known that they were going to try and find his master, and if he was honest he didn't really want to know either. Sad fact was that he wasn't only stuck with Elladan and Elrohir, he was also stuck with a horse that hated him and especially the twins. He was sure he had seen it eye them maliciously, and Elrohir had already complained several times that Rashwe had tried to bite him, something all of them had believed in an instant.   
  
Wonderful, Celylith sighed again, this time openly. He wasn't going to make it through this journey with his sanity intact, he just knew it…   
  
In front of him, Elladan frowned at their snow-covered surroundings, his expression so dark that it was a miracle the snow hadn't turned a black colour yet. Night had already fallen, but they were still pressing on, relying on the moon and stars to light their way for them.   
"Are you sure your father said south-east?" he asked for about the one hundred and seventh time, turning around to face the silver haired elf.   
  
Celylith took a deep breath and told himself for the umpteenth time to remain calm. It wouldn't make a good impression on Lord Glorfindel if he killed his lord's son and heir.   
"Yes, Elladan."   
  
"And he is sure Estel was interested in why no-one was going south-east?"   
  
"Yes, Elladan."   
  
"And he left eight days ago?"   
  
"Yes, Elladan."   
  
"And…"   
  
"Stop it, Elladan!" Glorfindel's voice interrupted the older twin. "He answered these questions days ago! I never thought anyone could be more annoying than Erestor during his adventurous time of the _yén _or your father after a long council session, but I am beginning to see that I was incorrect."   
  
Elladan had the good grace to look at least a bit ashamed and bowed his head.   
"I was only…"   
  
"…making sure," Glorfindel wearily finished the younger elf's sentence. "Yes, you have told us before. About a hundred times."   
  
"A hundred and seven, my lord," Celylith injected sourly. "I have counted."   
  
"So I see," Glorfindel smiled amusedly. He was actually rather impressed with the silver haired elf's control. When he had been his age, he would have killed the twins a long time ago.   
  
Elladan grimaced darkly and scowled at the slightly younger elf.   
"I am so glad you are amused by all this!" he growled. "Just in case you hadn't noticed: We have found nothing! We have been riding for four days into the direction _you _told us to take, by the way, and we haven't found a trace of them! It is easy for you to see this dispassionately! You might not be very much concerned about finding the two of them, but this is my little brother we are talking about!"   
  
Celylith's face turned white as the snow around them, and only Glorfindel's restraining hand on his arm stopped him from doing something he might have regretted later.   
  
"Oh," he hissed at the twin who was just realising what he had said in his fit of fury, "Is that so? Do you really think I sneaked out of the palace, broke every rule there is and disobeyed my father and my king because I had nothing better to do? Do you? Aragorn is my friend, yes, and I would have done this for him alone, but we are also talking about Legolas, about my prince, about my friend who is dear to me like a brother! Don't you dare imply that I would remain at home and do nothing while he is in danger! Don't you dare question my loyalty to my prince! Don't you dare…"   
  
"Celylith," Elrohir interrupted the seething elf, "He didn't mean it like that. He's merely frustrated and did not think before opening his mouth, as always. Right, brother?"   
  
He glared darkly at his twin who nodded after a second, grey eyes fixed beseechingly on Celylith's outraged face.   
"Yes," Elladan assured the silver haired elf hastily. "Forgive me, my friend, I did not mean to insult you. I spoke in anger and did not contemplate the consequences of my words. I am sorry."   
  
Celylith exhaled loudly, trying to get his feelings under control. He shouldn't have reacted so strongly, he knew that Elladan hadn't meant what he had said. The older twin was known for having a quick temper, and he should not have lost control so quickly.   
"It's alright," he inclined his head slightly. "We are all in need of rest and our nerves are frayed. I should not have reacted as I did."   
  
Elrohir smiled slightly as his brother and friend were shooting each other apologetic glances. They were really rather predictable at times, weren't they? Perhaps Estel was right and they were getting old. He quickly shook his head, abolishing that ridiculous idea. Elladan and he would turn 2824 years later this year after all, and Celylith wasn't so much younger than they. They were far from old.   
  
"Well," the younger twin finally said to break the uneasy silence that had fallen, "I am hungry. Who else wants something to eat?"   
  
"You are worse than a hobbit," Glorfindel informed his former pupil and shook his head. "One of these days I will have to return home to your father dragging your body behind because you were too busy eating to defend yourself."   
  
Celylith grinned evilly.   
"I couldn't agree more, my lord."   
  
"What a surprise," Elladan said playfully, enjoying the light heartedness of the moment.   
  
The journey had a rather strained one, for they were only travelling into a direction Estel _might _have taken. Their main source of information was Celylith, who had spent the day before their departure questioning his father, several other advisors and about half the guard corps as inconspicuously as possible. In the end the silver haired elf had come to the conclusion that Aragorn had been interested in the possibility of the men travelling south-east instead of east into the direction of the Long Lake. Elladan shrugged inwardly. It was as good a place to start as any.   
  
Elladan forcefully shook off the dark mood that was once again trying to sneak up on him. No matter what happened or how long it took, they would find Estel. And then they would kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Permanently. Very pleased with his thoughts, he turned back to Glorfindel and Celylith, giving both of them a wicked look, something that caused the fair haired elves to hide a concerned expression.   
  
"I even think he is beginning to look somewhat like a hobbit," he told his companions, ignoring Elrohir's threatening look. "I think his hair is beginning to curl."   
  
Celylith cocked his head to the side, studying the younger twin's dark tresses intensely.   
"I think you are right, _mellon nín_. I am sure that one strand is looking positively … frizzy."   
  
"Frizzy?" Elrohir echoed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What do you mean, frizzy?"   
  
"By the Valar, I think you are right, my dear friend!" Elladan exclaimed, once again ignoring his twin. He turned to Glorfindel, who had managed to remain stern-faced until now. "What say you, my Lord Glorfindel? Frizzy or just curly?"   
  
Glorfindel looked up from where he had been studying the snow-covered path they were following through the sparsely forested lands. They had left Mirkwood far behind and were following the River Running downstream, and fewer and fewer trees were covering the ground.   
  
"I say," he began slowly, "that you two are the most annoying beings I have ever met in my long life. Back in the First Age young ones were a lot more…"   
  
"…respectful and well-behaved," the twins finished the blonde elf's sentence simultaneously. "Yes," Elrohir added, "You already told us."   
  
"I did?" the golden haired elf raised an equally golden eyebrow, the perfect picture of surprised innocence.   
  
"Yes," Elladan assured him. "You tell us about a thousand times a _yén_, I think. Besides," he added sourly, looking pointedly at the elf lord's innocent face, "that look does not look convincing."   
  
"I agree," Elrohir nodded slightly. "You look about as innocent as an elfling with his hand in a cookie jar. What do you think, Celylith?"   
  
"I think," the silver haired elf answered absent-mindedly, not looking up from where he was scanning their surroundings, "that we have a trail."   
  
If the silver haired elf's three companions had been hit by a bolt of lightning, the reaction would not have been extremer. As one they sat up on their horses, bright eyes fixing on the wood-elf who looked up, his fair face aglow with hope and relief.   
  
"Over there," Celylith elaborated, coaxing Rashwe to the side and gesturing at a small copse of trees to their right, visible in the darkness due to their elven eyesight. "Someone or something was in there, something rather big, judging from the broken branches. It's hard to say from this distance, but I'd say it was a horse."   
  
The three Imladris elves narrowed their eyes into the direction of the trees and turned back around after a moment, the same hopeful expression on their faces. Even on Glorfindel's usually so composed face a small smile could be seen, and the golden haired elf inclined his head slightly to the younger Silvan elf.   
  
"Well done, young one," he said, the smile widening as he watched red colour creep up Celylith's face at the praise. "It appears that the reputation of King Thranduil's warriors is indeed merited."   
  
Celylith merely nodded as he tried to combat the blood that rushed to his head and threatened to turn his face the colour of a beetroot. He never blushed, he had in fact not blushed for the past few centuries, but only one praise from Lord Glorfindel, who, admittedly, was his childhood hero, had slain a balrog and had survived the destruction of the High King Turgon's city, turned his face the colour of bricks.   
  
The four elves spurred on their horses, quickly making their way over to the trees, and Elrohir grinned at his brother, perfectly aware of the awe and admiration the silver haired elf harboured for their father's friend and advisor.   
"Well done indeed, Celylith," the younger twin said cheerfully.   
  
"Admirable work," Elladan chimed in. "A wood-elf's eyes are truly as keen as a hawk's."   
  
"Nothing escapes a Silvan elf's sharp eyes," Elrohir nodded, watching with satisfaction how Celylith pressed his lips together in annoyance.   
  
"Will you please stop it!" Celylith snapped testily, but before he could say more or the twins could continue teasing him, the four of them reached the trees.   
  
In a matter of seconds all of them had dismounted, Celylith having to keep Rashwe away from Elrohir's horse. The white animal had obviously decided that the younger elf's horse didn't deserve any mercy either if it consented to carrying the elf, and was apparently intent on biting it, perhaps in the belief that it would be easier to eventually kill Elrohir if he was deprived of his horse.   
  
They quickly found that Celylith had been right: There had been a horse in here, and judging by the hairs that could still be found on some of the branches – thanks to the fact that the snow storm had abated and the weather had been rather nice and calm these past days – it had been a black horse. Now that they knew where to look, it wasn't hard to follow the signs that had been left in the small, densely packed wood, and after Glorfindel and Elrohir had made sure that they were indeed alone here, each of them lit a thick, dry torch, lighting their way so that they wouldn't miss even the smallest trail.   
  
"Someone came in here and dragged the horse out," Elladan commented thoughtfully as they slowly followed the barely visible signs that had almost faded already, "And it was not happy about it, it appears."   
  
"Neither would you be if you were an elven horse and some strange men came and made you go somewhere you didn't want to go," Glorfindel said darkly, crouching down next to a small, leafless bush, his feet leaving no trace on the thick snow cover.   
  
"See?" he asked the younger elves who had stepped closer, their torches raised high and casting a flickering, unsteady light over the scene. He pointed at an imprint next to the bush which had clearly been left by a horseshoe, the edges still sharp and plain to see. "It was an elven horse, you can see it by the way it is shod. And if the strangers had been elves which we can only assume for the sake of argument anyway, there wouldn't have been so many broken twigs. Dwarves would hardly have been interested in a horse, and orcs would have killed it were it was in the first place and eaten it without bothering to drag it somewhere."   
  
They were already moving along the trail when Elrohir quietly asked what all of them were thinking.   
"Estel took an elven horse, did he not?"   
  
"Aye," Celylith nodded darkly. "Aye, he did."   
  
All of them stopped as if held back by an invisible hand when they reached the trail's end, a large clearing that was surrounded by trees on three sides. It had clearly been a campsite some days ago, that was obvious even to the most unobservant person since a large fireplace was still visible in its middle, only lightly covered with snow.   
  
"If they took his horse, they most likely also took him. Aragorn knows better than to abandon his horse voluntarily," Glorfindel said as he slowly stepped forward. O the Valar, Elrond would _kill _him! That was what his lord would do, he would feed him to the next pack of wargs fortunate enough to come into the vicinity of Rivendell.   
  
Elladan winced at his tutor's words and pressed his lips together.   
"Look for any sign that might prove that Estel was here, or Legolas for that matter," he told the others firmly. "And for anything that might indicate where they were going. We were lucky with the trees, but if have continued on the road, we won't be able to follow them so easily. They could turn south into the direction of Dagorlad or west into the direction of he Brown Lands and we wouldn't notice it."   
  
What followed was a very thorough search that uncovered precious little. That it was most probably the camp they were looking for had become clear soon, but proof of Aragorn's or Legolas' presence was not so forthcoming. Finally, after almost half an hour, an excited shout could be heard from Elladan who was kneeling next to the fire's remains.   
  
"Here!" he said, grinning broadly at his brother and silver haired friend who swiftly came closer. He pointed at a small spot in front of him where he had brushed the snow to the side. "Do you see this?"   
  
Elrohir dropped to one knee as soon as he reached his twin's side, narrowing his eyes at the half-burnt, small green plant that could be seen, lying crushed right next to the cold, scattered ashes.   
"Athelas!" he breathed. "Men would not use it. No-one would have used it but…"   
  
"Estel," Elladan nodded. "It must have been him. He was in this camp, and he was alive."   
  
"So the men didn't kill him when they captured him, the Valar know why," Celylith added. "And I doubt he would have treated one of the humans, so Legolas is probably alive as well."   
  
Elladan grinned as he grabbed his twin's forearm and pulled him to his feet, clapping Celylith on the back as soon as they were standing.   
"This is the first good news I have heard in a long time!"   
  
"And also the last, I fear," Glorfindel's frustrated voice sounded from behind them, and they turned to look at the golden haired elf lord who walked up to them from the direction of the path. "Their trail loses itself a little to the East. We are once again back to guessing."   
  
The mirth instantaneously disappeared from the three young elves' faces, and Elladan cursed viciously in an ancient Quenya dialect Glorfindel had thought all but forgotten.   
  
"Wonderful!" Elrohir exclaimed angrily. "What now?!"   
  
"Now," Glorfindel said with a calmness he did not feel at all, "We will see if we have overlooked something. We may still find a clue."   
  
"But we have looked everywhere!" Elladan protested. "We…"   
  
"Might have overlooked something," Glorfindel stated again, blue eyes flashing and boring into the older twin's grey ones. "What do you wish to do, my lord? Run off blindly and hope to find your brother and the prince? Then, by all means, do so and leave. I have better things to do."   
  
For long moments, Elladan stared angrily at the golden haired elf lord before his anger and frustration receded and made way for reason. Apart from the fact that Glorfindel was right he knew better than to make the blonde warrior angry. Glorfindel never called him or his brother "lord" unless at official gatherings or when he was truly furious with them.   
  
With a curt nod into the elf lord's direction he took up his search again, closely followed by Elrohir and Celylith. For more than an hour they searched, but found nothing that might indicate which direction the humans might have taken. The torches had burnt down to less than ten inches, making it more than difficult and uncomfortable to hold them.   
  
After another ten minutes Elrohir finally straightened up and stood to his feet, frustration rolling off him in waves. It was unbelievable, he ranted inwardly. How much worse could their luck still get? They had finally managed to find a trace of their little brother only to find that _he _had managed to get himself captured – again – and they had no idea where his captors might have taken him or Legolas.   
  
The younger twin balled his fists and wandered over to the edge of the clearing, not really knowing what he was looking for. In fact, he wasn't really looking for a trace, he was looking for something to hit. In general, he was the more controlled and calmer of the two of them; usually it was Elladan who lost his temper or spoke before thinking. Now, however, Elrohir was experiencing the very vivid, very overpowering urge to strangle something or someone. He wasn't very often doing something like this, but now he walked up to a tree, quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure that Glorfindel wasn't watching him (the last thing he needed now was his Things-a-proper-elf-lord-never-does-speech), and gave the dark bark a heartfelt kick.   
  
It wasn't a very nice thing to do to the tree, he was perfectly aware of that, but if he didn't do something to rid himself of his aggressions, he would do something far worse to the next person who addressed him, which would most probably be one of his companions. Elrohir frowned and walked over to the next tree and repeated his actions, not really caring if he looked stupid and childish. He wouldn't want to explain to his father that he had killed Elladan or Glorfindel in a fit of fury, or to Lord Celythramir that he had killed his son.   
  
In front of the fifth tree Elrohir finally stopped, sensing the probing eyes of his companions bore into his back but feeling much better. He placed a hand against the tree's bark in an attempt to apologise for his rude behaviour and had just opened his mouth to say something along these lines, when his eyes came to rest on something that caused him to frown, after a moment to blink unbelievingly and then to grin widely.   
  
"I've found something!" he called as he stepped to the side to be able to scrutinise his discovery more closely. A few seconds later, his brother and friends reached his side, and all of them stared at what Elrohir had found by accident: A small, roughly carved elven rune that clearly stood out against the tree's dark bark in the flickering torch light.   
  
Elladan was the first to break the silence, arching a dark eyebrow in a manner very similar to his father.   
"'R'?" he asked unbelievingly. "What is that supposed to mean, 'R'?"   
  
Celylith shrugged. Why would Aragorn – for it must have been the young ranger – cut a single letter into a tree?   
"'Right here'?" he suggested. "'Run faster'?"   
  
Glorfindel shot the young elf a dark look, but Elrohir began to grin, apparently getting in the spirit of things.   
"'Rotten luck'?" the twin asked with a small smile.   
  
"If you two stopped this nonsense, I would be able to think," Elladan hissed at the two of them. "Estel wouldn't have carved this into a tree just for fun."   
  
"So what does it mean?" Elrohir asked rhetorically. "How is 'R' going to help us find him? I mean, 'R' can mean about everyth…"   
  
"Rómen," Glorfindel interrupted him suddenly, the Quenya word rolling softly off his tongue. "That's the letter's name, Rómen."   
  
"Of course it is," Elladan said. "And Rómen means…"   
  
"East," Celylith finished the dark haired elf's thought.   
  
Half a second later two pairs of blue and two pairs of grey eyes looked at each other, the same realisation in their depths.   
"Rhûn."   
  
Elladan nodded slowly, instinctively knowing that that was what his human brother had been trying to tell them. He pushed the fear for Aragorn's safety to the back of his mind – but why had the young ranger only left this one rune? It would have taken only a couple of seconds to leave a few more. He swallowed quickly. Estel must have been out of time.   
  
Elrond's oldest son nodded at the other three elves, trying to remain calm.   
"Alright," he said slowly, "It's as good a place to start looking as any."   
  
"I agree," Glorfindel said softly. "East it is."   
  
The younger elves inclined their heads, and soon they were walking back the way they had come to get their horses, which they had left behind at the small copse of trees. At least that was what he hoped, Celylith thought despairingly. Rashwe would most likely already have killed the twins' horses – he was rather sure that he wouldn't dare even look at Lord Glorfindel's mount Asfaloth which was about as arrogant as Rashwe itself – and would be half-way back to Mirkwood if he knew that … demon at all…   
  
He shook his head and quickened his pace to catch up with Elladan and Glorfindel, leaving Elrohir to walk a few paces behind him. The younger twin didn't seem to notice, for his thoughts were still on his brother's "message" and he was busy thanking the Valar for guiding him to the right tree. It had been an incredible stroke of luck that he had found the tree, he was aware of that.

When they reached the tree line, Elrohir stopped for a second, looking back over the camp his foster brother and Legolas had been in not too long ago. He slowly began to smile, his eyes straying back to the tree he had kicked only a few minutes ago.   
  
"Rómen," he finally said quietly and shook his head incredulously before turning around and following the others. "Not bad, little brother. Not bad at all."  
  


++++++++++  
  


**TBC...**  
  


++++++++++  
  


_mellon nín - my friend  
ada - father (daddy)  
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years  
  
_

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_**Two Peredhil, a wood-elf, a reborn elf lord from Gondolin****and an evil demon-horse****to the rescue! Yay! *g* Well, now that I see it written out like that, it does seem a little bit pathetic... *evil grin* Well, we'll see about that, but first we'll see the next chapter, approximately Friday, in which we once again meet the evil overlord and Teonvan & Co.****finally reach their destination! Yay again! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, loved, cherished and generally worshipped. *g*   
  
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**Additional A/N:  
  
TrinityTheSheDevil** - Well, he _had_ to find out sooner or later, hadn't he? Okay, now that I think about it, it would also have been rather funny if he hadn't and everybody had always been waiting for it and... *trails off* Ignore me, alright? And stop right there! You! Yes, you! You with the struggling, silver haired elf lord in your pocket! Don't you think I didn't see that! Put him back where you found him! Yes, his clothes too! *g* Hope your headache's gone! Migraines can be horrible...**  
Shauna** - Well, I am very glad that you liked the last chapters! We aim to please... *g* *reads on* *blushes* *blushes even more* *blushes until she resembles a beetroot* Thank you for all the compliments. It's great you're enjoying this. I have to say though, that this won't be quite as straightforward. I mean, the twins are several days behind them, plus they don't even know where they're going! There's no way for them to catch up with the humans before they reach their destination. The 'rescue', if you want to call it that, will take some time yet... *g*  
**Lina** - Lina! Glad to see you sneaking in once again! *g* There is something as sexy hair? Well - if you say so... *blinks* Whatever you say. I like the cream gun, btw. Dangerous things, them. Especially in the hands of insan... I mean, slightly unusual girls like you. *g* LOL, what? FATDOGGGIES? But ... but ... Reran is no great guy! I mean, yes, he is, but only _I_ think so, and I am insane. I mean, he's a bad guy, right? So, technically, I am allowed to kill him, right? Right? *Lina shakes her head from atop Éomer's horse* Yeah, I already thought so... *sigh*   
**Zam** - I say again: I don't see the connection between Reran and FATDOGGIES. I really don't. But I do see that one boy's point, really. I would found something like ... yes, the FELAZ, the Foundation for the Extinction of Lina and Zam. I guess there would be quite a few (fictional) people who would support that one... *g* Hmm, what would I be willing to offer you for a Mighty Authoress Control of Doom™? What about Saruman's creepy throne from Orthanc? I like that one! *sighs at Celylith's stupidity* Of course you have blue eyes, dear, don't worry... And yours are much prettier than Cendan's, yes... *g* LOL, you like Cendan even more when he hits Aragorn? Well, you're right - you're beginning to become really, really weird... *g* And don't worry, Teonvan wouldn't rape Reran. He's too old. I know, that's not really comforting, is it? But is IS physically possible, and has been for thousands of years. Just take the Ancient Greeks, for example. Okay, okay, I'll stop. *g* LOL, I like the trapdoor, but it's not Beorn, sorry. *g*  
**Aratfeniel** - Yeah, well, poor everyone about covers it, I think. *evil grin* It's their own fault, after all, they just had to behave stupid, hadn't they? *g* Well, maybe it wasn't really their fault, but... Okay, shutting up now. I'm babbling, sorry. *g*  
**Elenillor** - Uhm, yes, it was one of my longer chapters. The longer ones are around 18/19 pages, which I hate. I try to keep them to 15 pages or so, but I almost always fail. *sighs sadly* Poor me. And I know what you mean, I exceed the word limit most of the time as well, something that is REALLY bad since most of our professors won't even look at your paper when it's not as long as they said it should. *sighs again* Poor me.  
**Firnsarnien** - Nah, don't worry, no death/permanent injury/whatever. Celylith will remain alive and in possession of all his limbs - I think. *g* Well, I am rather glad that you don't like Reran, but he's really the better bad guy. I mean, whom would you prefer to be in charge, Teonvan or Reran? Reran is definitely the lesser evil... And the same goes for Cendan, definitely... To wish that the two were dead is rather short-sighted... *g* And you really like Anardir that much? To be perfectly honest, I think that Cendan is a much more interesting character, in almost every way. But then again, I'm weird. Very weird. *weird grin*  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Oh, I pray thee, fair lady, do not say such things! Even though I do not hail from this fair Middle-earth and this language is foreign to me, I do understand the meaning of your words well enough. At least I think so. I read Shakespeare sometime in my English class though, and have read more on my own. That's something, right? But I will abandon all attempts to use that language, since I think that all you will achieve by trying to speak in a language or dialect you know little or nothing about is to embarass yourself. *g* And whoever said I was human? Don't worry, I am not one of the hundreds of elves running around here, but I am one of the "Authoresses". We are a dangerous and unpredictable race, be careful! *g* But you know that, don't you?  
**Bailey** - I don't really know what you mean with 'Ranger Finally', but I can guess, and I can assure you that you're wrong. There won't be any 'Ranger Finally' in this or the next chapter. Sorry to burst your bubble. *evil grin* I'm glad to hear that you got your internet back though. Being cut off the 'net can be - stressful. *g*  
**Strider's Girl** - Well, yes, I'll admit that it was a little cliffy. Not a big one, but one nonetheless. And about chapter 20: That was a careful estimate, just that you don't get too focussed on it, alright? And the 'men' aren't planning to dispose of Aragorn, it was Reran. Teonvan thinks differently, mainly because he's an idiot and doesn't want to take the chance of arriving at home with a dead prisoner. Lucky for the ranger, I guess. *g*   
**Silvertoekee** - Oh, you want to give me a reward? That's great, what about a hundred thousand bags of Skittles? I LOVE Skittles! *has just run out of Skittles* Uhm, yes, whatever. *sheepish smile* And I agree: Aragorn IS getting awfully good at using the _look_. He practises a lot. after all... *g*  
**Mouse5** - Well, I am glad Glorfindel's stupid little act surprised some people; I was beginning to fear I were getting predictable. *g* No, Cendan is not a ranger in disguise, but it's great someone else than me likes him! I really think he's an interesting character, and the more I write about him, the more interesting he gets. *hugles Cendan* My villain, precioussss... And let's just say that Cendan will soon wish he had killed Teonvan when he had the chance. Everything else would have been far too easy, for everyone involved... *evil grin*  
**Miss Attitude** - Well, yes, I try to involve such fun scenes, great you liked it. That's not really correct though, I don't plan to write these scenes, they write themselves, I swear they do! And the main genre is Action/adventure, so we can't have too much of the humour, can we? *shakes head* No.   
**Starlight** - Hmm, dann war FF.net wohl einmal unschuldig. Ich muss dich jedoch enttaeuschen, Glorfindel und/oder den Zwillingen wird erst mal nichts passieren. Abgesehen davon hat Aragorn wahrscheinlich schon alle Woelfe umgebracht und die Ueberlebenden haben sich aus dem Staub gemacht, um nicht von irren Rangern und/oder Elben umgebracht zu werden. Das mit deinem Entzug wird noch ein wenig weitergehen muessen... *g* Ja, das mit der Schlucht war schon ein bisschen eindeutig, nech? 1. Regel des FF-Universums: Gibt es eine Schlucht, muss jemand 'runterfallen. Schoen, dass deine Geschenke zahlreich und zu gebrauchen waren!  
**Firniswin** - Well, that wasn't exactly how you spell his name, but it was already rather close. Just a syllable too much. *g* And you have what? A crush on Reran? Oookay, that is slightly disturbing... But I like him too, he's an interesting character and most certainly nicer than Teonvan. Oh, and I think Firnsarnien has already founded a ALF. There's already an EELF, a GLF and about a thousand others... *g*  
**Carla** - Tja, so bin ich einfach. Ich koennte ein total ernstes Kapitel nicht schreiben, selbst wenn mein Leben davon abhinge... *g* Na, wenigstens einer, der Cliffies mag! Ich liebe sie, natuerlich nur, wenn ich sie schreibe, wenn ich sie lese, ist das was ganz anderes... Und ja, ich habe andere Buecher gelesen, The Silmarillion, den Hobbit und ein paar von diesen Unfinished Tales. Habe leider noch nicht alles gelesen, aber ich mache mich dran... *g*  
**Tychen** - I likes to do that. Eat people's reviews, I mean. It also eats chapters, formattings and countless other things. *g* Well, let's just say that Reran was a rather distracted cookie, poor him. LOL - Teonvan, the resident sadist! That's interesting, and true. Glorfindel and the others should indeed pick up the pace, but there's the small matter that they don't know where they're going, or where they should be going. *g* An escape plan would be great though, that's true.  
**Alilacia** - So you've finally seen it? What do you think then? I didn't like it overly much. I mean, it was okay, but not _great_ as in _really_ great, if you know what I mean. Precisely. You're meant to like him, but Cendan is still a BAD guy! Never forget that, because I don't know yet if I will kill him or not. And it's really hard to come up with way to hurt people that haven't been done by hundreds of people. Being evil helps enormously though. *g* The snow is long gone here too. Pity. *g*  
**Miruvor** - Your objection is duly noted. I agree with you though: Reran is evil, but Teonvan is much, much eviller. Don't worry about Cendan though, he's not dead yet. LOL, I love it! "Teonvan waltzed smugly back into the camp, relating with malicious joy that Reran had sadly fallen to his death" - it isn't even very far-fetched. It's of course not really like that, but... *g* I appreciate your shameless begging, of course, but ... well, things don't always go the way we want them to, right?  
**MorierBlackleaf** - Well, yes, I like him to, but he's still one of the bad guys! It's not really that I have to let the bad guys live, do I? *shakes head* Nope, I don't even have to let the GOOD guys live! Mhahahahaha! *evil laugh*  
**Red Tigress** - Well, there are many possible answers, but the right one is: Nope, he isn't, sorry. *g* LOL, great you liked the letter, which was indeed accurate if nothing else. Great you liked it, thanks for reviewing!  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Of course I am being mean! It's my job! Hmm, which bet was that again? But you're right, Aragorn will never let him live it down, and I'd put my money on the kitchen staff, I think. They're ... sneakier than the warriors, I think. *insert ironic voice here* You are very welcome, of course. I'm glad you liked the little cliffhanger. I knew it'd make you happy. *g*  
**Orlandofan13** - More than anything else, these chapters keep getting longer and longer, which is something that annoys me to no end. *g* Thanks for the compliments, even though I think that our style (with the possible exception of Thundera Tiger and very few others) would make Tolkien rotate in his grave. Very, very fast. *g*  
**TrustingFriendship - **Yup, that's what a coup is all about. Sorry about that. And trust me, it's rather important that Teonvan does what he does, you'll see why in the end. I don't know if I can include the reaction, probably not. I had already planned such a scene (in fact, for last chapter), but decided against it in the end. I might put one in though. Maybe a letter or something - I'll have to think about it...  
**Narina Nightfall** - OF COURSE I am allowed to create good characters only to kill them shortly afterwards. I created Galalith with the intention to kill him, there are some people who just have to die. I mean, why should only bad guys die? How realistic is that? *shakes head* Not very. I am sorry if I make you sad though. I hope I won't ruin your homework with this chapte then. And I don't do ghosts-spirits-supernatural-thingies, sorry again. I always think it's, well, unrealistic. I know, this whole universe is Fantasy, but Tolkien always used very 'real' magic, if you know what I mean. No ghosts or lightning-coming-out-of-someone's-fingertips. And I can proudly announce that, during a very boring computer sciences class, I had the opportunity to read the first chapter of your story, some days ago. I have to admit that I don't really remember much, but if I may give you one piece of advice? You should write out your numbers. I know, it's a stupid thing, but I for my part tend to stop reading a story when numbers such as 3 or 5 or something like that aren't written out. If you want to use numerals for larger numbers, fine, but at least 1-12 should be written out. Well, that's my great, wonderful advice, apart from that I only remember that it was very AU, which, well, is not one of my favourites. There were no elves at Helm's Deep - apart from Legolas - (Damn you, PJ!!) and the only group of people coming south was the Grey Company, and the only elves riding with them were the twins. I know that there are lots of people who love that genre, I just don't. *g* Hmm, how old is Aragorn in this story? Let's see, he's turning 24 in a few days I think. Or was it 23? I'll have to check. And don't touch the Remote Control of Doom. It's Zam's, and you know how she is... *shudders*  
**Nikara** - *sighs* Everybody seems to look forward to Aragorn torture, which is really sad now that I think about it... *g* And I really think Celythramir and Thranduil should be complimented for their restraint. I would really kill the two of them. I would. *g*  
**Merryelf** - Well, yes, Anardir is a very poor elf. He hasn't really done anything to deserve such treatment. I don't know why I do it either. I think I am evil. *g* It's great to hear that you've enjoyed the homour - it writes itself, I swear it does. It's rather frightening, really. *g*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Well, technically speaking hiding doesn't equal cowering, does it? It's not necessarily proof in that case... *g* Uhm, which line do you mean? I couldn't see it, sorry. But yes, Aragorn is definitely an idiot. I would have done the exact same thing though, so that means I am an idiot too. *shrugs* So what else is new? So you have a balrog that can perch on your shoulder? That is disturbing, because that means that either your shoulder is extremely large or your balrog extremely small. *g* So, which one is it? Hmm, okay, let me see. "Pain" is naeg in Sindarin and naicalë in Quenya. The closest thing I could find for relief is 'freeing' (n.) in Sindarin, meaning leithian. Other than that, the only thing I can come up with in Quenya would be the gerund of lerya- (to set free, release), which is lerië. There are other forms though, and I'd be careful when using that last one. *g*  
**Gwyn** - I agree. Glorfindel didn't really have a choice, did he. Doomed if you do - doomed if you don't. *g* That's him. Well, and I guess Cendan likes some people other than himself, or rather, is loyal to people other than himself. At least I think so. I'll have to ask him, I think. *g*  
**Deana** - I think Aragorn would agree - the new name WAS rather funny. Legolas didn't seem to think so, though. I don't know why either - stupid wood-elf... *g*  
**Elvendancer** - Well, that's great! It's always bad to make your siblings mad at you - some can react rather violently and unpredictably, too! *evil grin* I can vouch for that... Enjoy the laptop, and thanks a lot for the review!  
**Kikyo** - Of course I lock them up in cages! They're vicious and rabid and wouldn't leave me alone until I'd write them, which would most probably ruin this story. So, it's better for everyone of they stay in the basement where they belong. *g* I don't envy Cendan either, though. Then again, it's his own fault since he's a bad guy.  
**Grumpy** - *blinks* What was that? Aragorn and Legolas are together, and you honestly believe nothing bad will happen? Well, that would be a first, wouldn't it? *g* I don't think though that Thranduil meant to be funny, I think he's really stressed at the moment. Then again, who wouldn't be? I most certainly would. *g*  
**Miaow Artsy** - Aha! A lurker! Nice to meet you! *shakes hand* It is very nice to hear that you're enjoying my insane little creations, and I do indeed love to plot. What gave it away? *g* Hmm, I wasn't entirely serious about the surprise character. I mean, I think it's a character, but some people might not agree. *shrugs* We'll see. Well, and technically the "Things-a-proper-elf-lord-never-does-speech" is Glorfindel's. Everybody keeps borrowing it though. *g* Even though I didn't get a cake, I thank you very much for your review!   
**Iverson** - Okay, then I won't ask you. Whatever you say. *g* And there are some homourous scenes in here, so don't worry. I could never write an entirely serious chapter. I tried once and had to rewrite the whole thing since it turned into slapstick. *shudders* It was horrible. Oh, and the genre is, as always, Action/Adventure/Angst. I wouldn't write Drama - too little humour in that, I fear... *g* And you can never say that you love the story often enough! Feel free to sayit as many times as you wish! *g* And thanks for noting the 'growth' - sometimes, when I am reading the first chapters of AEFAE, I can't stop cringing. Literally.  
**Sirithiliel** - Well, thank you! Hope the update's soon enough, thanks for reviewing!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - I don't like rap songs overly much to begin with, so I can imagine what you have to go through. My heartfelt sympathies. *g* LOL, so YOU put the note there? I should have known - it would have to be either you or Zam, and since Zam is busy with her Mighty Authoress Remote Control of Doom™ (don't ask!) at the moment.... *g* Hmm, why must I kill off the cool characters? Because I am evil and am not allowed to kill Legolas or Aragorn? *thinks* Yes, that must be it. I may mention Elrond's reaction. Perhaps I'll send a messenger who might have a flashback - hey that would actually work! *starts plotting*  
**Fewer Brain Cells Than a Garden Hose** - May I first compliment you on your sn? It's really great, and I have to say that there are awfully intelligent garden hoses. Some of them can be downright terrifyingly clever... *shudders at distant memory* But I have to admit that I like cliffies, at least a little bit, and only when I don't have to read them. Writing them is lots of fun! The RLF would be too late now - you should have thought of that a little sooner.... *evil cackle* Thanks for the review though. I love reviews, which you probably already know. *g*  
**Cosmic Castaway** - Don't worry, there's no need to get out the avenging-spirit-costume. I will keep this up, I am far too insane not to. *insane grin* I hope you didn't hurt yourself floating into that wall!  
**Forever Unstoppable** - Well, the whole medical details were kindly explained to me by a friend of mine. She was very patient and kind. *g* Great you liked the Aragorn-Legolas scenes, thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Lynette** - LOL, yes then I have to update quicker of course! *g* I hope I didn't try your patience too much though. But I like Reran, I really do. I also like Cendan - I always think the villains are far more interesting than the good guys. *sighs* I need help, I know.  
**Someone Reading** - Uhm ... sorry? I hope you didn't fall off your chair, haven't completey chewed off your nails and are generally still alive? The Quenya sentence was good, really! The grammar was a little ... off, but other than that very good!  
**Dha-Gal** - 104 author alerts? Really? That's a lot! *takes Skittles with a bow* Thank you! I missed you - and the Skittles, of course... You can't wait to see what happens to Teonvan? Well, to be honest, not much, at least not for a long time. Sorry. *g*  
**Marbienl** - LOL, of course that fish has a trauma! I liked him and the little French crab or whatever it was. *g* I really don't want to insult you or your German abilities, but what do you mean? You are good in other numbers? But I know what you mean, I can understand quite a lot of Dutch when I see it - but I could never write or speak a single word... *shakes head in shame* Uhm ... no? No? Do you really think Thranduil would pay for an ordinary warrior? No, he doesn't want a slave - what would someone like him want with a slave? The rest is simply disgusting! Sometimes I am really afraid of you! Great to hear that you still like Frór. I bet he is very helpful. And no, Teonvan isn't planning any such thing. He's too afraid of his lord to even consider it, and too jealous to give anyone else the chance to deliver Legolas to their lord. And nope, the surprise character isn't Beorn, or a troll, or a dwarf. Sorry! *g*  
**Karone Evertree** - Thank you! You are not the only one who hates Teonvan though - I think there's a Teonvan-Hate-Club out there somewhere... *g* Great you still like it, and thanks for the review!  
**Salara** - Argh! Ich habe gerade gesehen, dass ihr geupdatet habt! Wie KOENNT ihr nur! Ihr braucht sonst immer drei Jahre und drei Tage, und ploetzlich geht es ruck-zuck? Ich konnte nicht reviewen! Seid ihr jetzt wieder auf jeden Freitag, oder was? Wenn dem naemlich so ist, waere eine kleine Warnung nett, damit man sich drauf vorbereiten kann! Also wirklich... *grummel* Ich hoffe jedoch, deinem PC geht's besser. Meiner hatte auch kleine Virenprobleme fuer 'ne Weile. Ich sehe aber, dass du mich schon erschreckend gut kennst, was was-wuerde-Nili-tun-oder-nicht-tun angeht. Erschreckend. *g* LOL, du hast was? Gegrinst wie ein Honigkuchenpferd nach der Lackierung? Na, das ist doch mal 'ne nette Vorstellung... *grinst* Wie immer vielen Dank fuer die lange Review! *knuddel*  
**A Very Stressed Suzi** - *g* Poor You. It appears, however, that at least your head is better if you're up to sprinting into random chapters. Very good. But Scots have hard heads, or so they say... *g* LOL, yes, it's a new blood type, NÚ-negative. There is no NÚ-pos. of course, because of their bad luck. *g* I made you cry? Really? I didn't think that so sad - or sad at all - but if it made you cry it was worth it. *evil grin* Hmm, good question about Legolas' blood. I'd imagine it would either have melted or have been covered by new snow or something like that. Plus - on the icky side - I don't think that wild animals such as foxes and the like would say no to a little bit of blood you can lick up in the winter, hm? Don't let work and essays get you down! *huggles* Thanks for the cookies!  
**Critternut** - *g* Yeah, it is my story - more or less, anyway. Sometimes I think that I'm not really the one calling the shots here... *shrugs* That elf and the ranger keep interfering with the plot. Damn them. *g* You can hug Legolas all you want, as long as you do it _gently_. He's not really well at the moment, I think... *evil grin* Nope, not really...  
  
**Once again, a heartfelt Thank-You to all my reviewers! If I'd anything more original to say I'd be happy, but I haven't, unfortunately. ****Too bad. *g***


	19. Shadowplay

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
**A/N:  
  
Well, yes, I liked Reran too. I like most of my villains, I even liked Teonvan in the beginning. *ducks rotten fruit* I said, in the beginning. I don't like him anymore. He's beginning to scare me - and my alter ego, and that's not easily done... *g* Anyway, I'm sorry for killing him. Once again, the plot demanded it. He died for the greater good, or, in this case, for the plausibility of the story, if there even is such a thing here. *frowns* No comments about that, please.  
  
I have to ask you once again though: Please - don't - kidnap - my - characters. I really don't know what it is about Celylith that makes several people want to kidnap him, and some have even started to stalk Celythramir. What is it with you people and silver hair? *g* So please: Leave them alone. I need them for the story, both of them, and they're beginning to get increasingly paranoid. *huggles them* Poor elves.  
  
Oh, and just to let you know: I have two evil college papers due soon, so the update-rhythm might change from six to seven days. I didn't said it will, it just ... might. It won't be longer than a week since, no matter how much I have to do for college, I can still easily write a chapter a week, but I wanted to warn you beforehand. *smiles sweetly* I knew you'd understand.  
  
Alright, here we are, they finally arrive at the evil lord's town! Yay them! Apart from that, we also meet the mysterious delegates from the South - anyone who can tell me what their and their lord's names mean gets a. a cookie, b. a copy of Teonvan's book "How to torture people and get away with it" or c. a clone of one of my OCs. I can't clone Tolkien's characters, sorry. *g*  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
**

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Chapter 19   
  
He was standing at the edge of the camp, his back to a large, comfortingly solid tree and his eyes wandering from one dark, silent tent to the next. It was still dark for sunrise was still at least an hour away, and yet he felt neither the urge nor the inclination to take some rest.   
  
Cendan smiled thinly to himself. Yesterday he had overheard several of his men talking about how he didn't sleep anymore; they had been wondering how he was able to keep functioning without rest. They had been wrong, of course: He did sleep, but as little as possible and only where he was safe and couldn't be found. He was no fool, after all, and he didn't intend to make the same mistake Reran had. He would _not _be caught off his guard by Teonvan and his lieutenants.   
  
The young dark haired man gritted his teeth, marvelling that it didn't produce any audible sound. He knew that Teonvan had killed Reran. He also knew that he would never be able to prove it; Teonvan was the captain now. In addition to that, Teonvan was one of their lord's favourites, and he knew whom their liege would rather believe: A commander who was in his favour or a lieutenant who still had little experience and was in addition to that also half-Easterling. Cendan growled inwardly. He could as well kill himself right here and now, the result would be about the same.   
  
Still, he wished he could take his knife and kill Teonvan, wished he could watch how the mocking, teasing light in the brown haired man's eyes died with his body. How such a worthless creature and insufferably bad soldier had managed to surprise a man like Reran he would never understand – he had probably taken his two lieutenants with him, he reasoned, Caellan and Lybran, men who were just as despicable as their commander.   
  
He had liked Reran, somehow; the older man had been a good and just captain, despite his sometimes fierce temper. He had always done his best to get all his men back home alive and in one piece, as a good captain should. Cendan wouldn't say that he had been Reran's friend, for that too much distrust and fear of their lord had stood between them, but that didn't matter in the slightest. The blonde man had been his superior, his _captain_. Whether he had liked him or not was of no importance, he had owed him his respect and loyalty and it had been his duty to protect him.   
  
A duty he had failed, he thought darkly. Reran had died alone and abandoned, and he hadn't done anything to help him. Among his mother's people loyalty and honour were held in the highest esteem, and a soldier who hadn't managed to protect his superior's life deserved nothing but scorn and contempt.   
  
And for that, for making him fail his duty as much as for killing his captain, he would kill Teonvan, one day. He wouldn't forget this, not as long as he lived. No matter how long it took, one day he would thrust his knife into the man's heart and watch him die with a smile on his lips. Vendettas weren't as common among his mother's people as they were for example among the Haradrim in the South, but it was still common enough a tradition for his blood to scream for vengeance.   
  
And he would have his vengeance, eventually. He didn't know when and he didn't know how, but he would have it, that he swore by all the Gods in the Heavens. He didn't know where Reran's soul was at the moment, but he was sure the older man would appreciate the gesture.   
  
But for that, he concluded silently, still not having moved an inch from where he was leaning against the tree, he would have to bide his time and avoid getting himself killed like his late captain. He had to admit that he was somewhat surprised that Teonvan hadn't tried anything yet, that he had neither tried to kill him too nor to have some "fun" with the prisoners. The only explanation he had been able to come up with was one he still thought highly doubtful: Teonvan wasn't as stupid as he had first thought.   
  
He had never believed he would say that one day, but it appeared that the commander – no, the _captain_, he corrected himself wryly – was clever enough to know that the men wouldn't tolerate more of his foolishness. Right now, they wouldn't mention the little episode with Teonvan and the elf from a week ago, for that they were too afraid of what the man might do, but if he continued his little "games" and damaged the elf further, possibly so much that he died before they could deliver him to their lord, it just might be enough to make sure that something … slipped. A few hints here and a few pointed remarks there and the whole story would come out. Teonvan wouldn't want to risk that.   
  
All in all, it was a situation Cendan could live with, because, otherwise, he would have to confront Teonvan openly, something that would be just short of suicide. He was still a little surprised, but Teonvan hadn't touched one of the prisoners, apart from a little blow here and there that they had even deserved most of the time. He had yet to meet more infuriating and more annoying creatures than the elf and the ranger, and he was rather certain that they didn't exist either. Lasseg had regained much of his former strength already and the cuts and bruises had almost completely faded, something that filled Cendan to equal parts with wonder and suspicion.   
  
Back at home elves were regarded as something out of myths and were not exactly held in high regard. They were said to be dangerous, unpredictable and malicious, and more than half of the stories also claimed that even though they were beautiful to behold they were in reality evil spirits that inhabited fair bodies to torment mankind. Cendan had never been sure if that was the truth or not, and he had come close to abandoning such ideas since the elf they had captured seemed real and un-wraithlike enough (besides, he bled rather convincingly, too), but the elf's miraculously quick healing had put him on edge.   
  
He did not trust the elf, and he did not trust the ranger. Both caused a quiet conviction to grow inside of him, and it wasn't the conviction that both of them were not going to give him anymore trouble. No, it was the conviction that, this time, their lord had made a grave error and that to get involved with rangers and elves was dubious at best, if not positively idiotic. That was something he would of course never say aloud, let alone say aloud in front of their lord, but it was what he was beginning to accept as the truth. These two were going to be trouble, even more than they already were.   
  
The young man was still musing about the general unfairness and dangerousness of the world when a grey shadow stepped out of one of the tents and began to walk up to him, careful to make enough noise so Cendan would hear him and keeping his hands raised at his sides. All men knew that it wasn't a clever idea to surprise their lieutenant – those who did quite often found themselves pinned against a tree with a knife against their throats.   
  
It took only a few seconds for the man to come close enough for Cendan to identify him: It was Menvan, one of his men who had been under his command ever since he had been promoted to Lieutenant three years ago. The most – and only – striking things about his outward appearance were his large, dark brown eyes that, right now, looked a little bit unsure, an expression that was to be seen there very seldom. The rest of Menvan was average: Average height, average weight, average looks. The young man was in fact so average that it was hard to remember what he looked like, even if one had seen him only a few seconds ago – which, of course, made him the perfect spy.   
  
Menvan, however, had always said that he was far too attached to life (and his head) to become a spy and had therefore rather joined the army – a course of action that spoke for the man's intelligence. Spies who were caught by those they were sent to spy on were treated kindly in no realm Cendan could think of, and in most cases their deaths were a gruesome and exceedingly painful affair.   
  
No, Menvan was right not to have chosen such a career, besides, the man was the born soldier. He was bright, able to shake the most amazing plans out of his sleeve (which even worked for most of the time) and more skilled with the blade than most men Cendan knew. He wouldn't be able to hit a house with a crossbow or an arrow even if he were standing right in front of it, but everyone had his weakness. Menvan, however, had fewer than most, and many men had died because they had thought him to be an easy victim because of his ordinary appearance. Cendan shrugged inwardly. Only fools judged their adversaries by their appearance.   
  
A few moments later, the man had reached the lieutenant's side and came to a stop next to him, flicking a strand of brown hair out of his face.   
"Good morning, sir."   
  
Cendan forced his thoughts off Reran, Teonvan, his lord, their prisoners and Menvan's character and looked at the other man, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly.   
"Mornings usually involve light and the sun, Menvan, do they not?"   
  
"Aye, sir," the man shrugged nonchalantly, but with a calculating expression on his face. "Usually, they do. But the men say you don't sleep anymore."   
  
"Nonsense," the dark haired lieutenant shook his head, a part of him asking inwardly why he was even indulging this man. Probably because he was a good and loyal soldier, he finally thought. Menvan would never turn on him like Teonvan had turned on Reran. "Everyone has to sleep, even the elf."   
  
Menvan looked at the other man with a sparkle in his eyes that very much said that he didn't believe a single word he had said, but refrained from protesting.   
"If you say so, sir."   
  
"Yes," Cendan nodded, a hint of a warning in his voice, "I do say so." He returned his eyes to the camp, noting that the other man avoided his gaze. "We'll reach the city this afternoon."   
  
Menvan nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on his snow-dusted boot tips. Cendan wasn't in a very good mood – which was only understandable – and he would most definitely not bother his lieutenant by offering his opinions.   
  
"I want you to send a messenger ahead before we leave," Cendan went on. "Pick the fastest rider and send him off at dawn. I am sure our lord wishes to be informed of our impending arrival."   
  
"Yes, sir," Menvan nodded, wincing inwardly. Their impending _late _arrival; because of the whole business with the ranger they were almost a day late. He winced again. Their lord would _not _be happy about that.   
  
"And make sure the prisoners' guards are doubled," Cendan added. "Now is their last chance to escape. I intend to prevent that, even if the … captain does not think it a possible threat."   
  
"But you do?" Menvan asked quietly.   
  
"Yes," Cendan nodded slowly, "Yes, I do. I think the elf's a lot stronger than he and the ranger want us to believe. I think his continuing 'weakness' is just a ruse to make sure that we won't get rid of the ranger." He nodded again. "They're clever; I have to give them that."   
  
"And you haven't told Comman..., I mean, Captain Teonvan?" Menvan asked again, deciding to seize this chance to ask Cendan as long as he was in a rather talkative mood, something that did not happen very often.   
  
"No, Menvan, I have not," Cendan shook his head, fixing blue eyes on the other man's face, apparently not at all bothered by his words. "And I see that you haven't either. Don't try to fool me with that daft, harmless expression of yours, I know you are a lot smarter than you let on. _Captain _Teonvan will have to come to that conclusion all by himself."   
  
Menvan raised his head, and the somewhat timid façade he usually wore faded so quickly that it was hard to tell that it had ever been there.   
"You have our support, Lieutenant, whatever you choose to do," he told the dark haired man. "If you wish it, the men will … let certain things slip. Nothing specific, of course, but enough to ensure that Teonvan will fall out of favour for good."   
  
Cendan didn't react, his eyes still boring into Menvan's large brown ones. He knew that it was a sign of immense loyalty that the men were willing to do that, for him or for their dead captain, but it wasn't what he wanted. To have Teonvan fall out of their lord's favour what not enough, not nearly enough.   
  
"You should be careful with such offers, Menvan," he told the brown haired soldier, his face calm and expressionless. "Should someone not as lenient as I hear them, you might pay dearly for them."   
  
"As Captain Reran did, sir?" the other man replied, hatred and anger in his usually calm brown eyes. "I asked around, Lieutenant, inconspicuously, of course. No-one's seen the commander or his two … goons that evening, not between the time the captain left and about two hours before the scouts returned. They were gone for at least an hour, and no one knows where they went. Does that not strike you as odd?"   
  
Cendan did not react, but inwardly he gritted his teeth very strongly. He had not had the means to ask these questions himself because that would have drawn too much attention, but Menvan hadn't had that problem. If he said no-one had seen Teonvan and his lieutenants, no-one had seen them, which only proved what he already knew.   
  
"That will be enough, soldier," he said calmly.   
  
The brown haired man was about to say more, but noted the dangerous sparkle in the other man's eyes just in time.   
"Yes, sir."   
  
"You will get the messenger ready," Cendan said, his voice hard and steely. He raised his eyes to the sky that was still rather dark. "Now would be good."   
  
"Yes, sir," Menvan repeated obediently and turned to walk back to the camp, only to be halted in mid-motion by his superior's serious voice.   
  
"Menvan," Cendan's voice cut through the cold, icy air like the steel of a blade, "I will forget your words, for I know you to be a good and loyal soldier. Let me give you a piece of advice though: Do not repeat them to anyone, not even to men of your unit. I would hate to find you with your throat cut one morning. Or," he added after a second, "to be there when they drag what is left of you out of the dungeons to be executed. Do you understand me?"   
  
The middle-sized man looked at him with his large eyes and finally nodded. He didn't know what his superior was planning or even if he was planning something, but if Lieutenant Cendan gave you advice, you did well not to disregard it.   
"Yes, Lieutenant," he said as he bowed his head slightly. "I understand. I'll get the messenger ready and not speak of it again."   
  
"I hope so," Cendan nodded. "Because you'll lose your head in both cases if you don't. Go."   
  
The other man merely nodded again and turned around, quickly disappearing into the direction of the tents. Cendan remained where he was for a long time, and only after the messenger had left, the sun had risen and most of the men had begun to stir did he return to the camp.   
  
He was not stupid enough to try and challenge Teonvan now, he thought as he wandered down the soft slope into the waking camp. Now every such a thing would lead to the one, unmistakable and unchangeable end result: His untimely and painful death. Now that the burial had taken place he had no real proof, and his liege would never believe him. All he could do now was to ruin Teonvan's career, for if they got back with the elf and without Reran to insist on Teonvan's punishment, their lord would hardly kill him for losing his temper. And that, he thought darkly once more, was not enough.   
  
No, he would bide his time, he decided as he reached the main fireplace. He would bide his time and be patient, and when Teonvan thought himself safe he would strike and finally end this despicable man's life, with his own hands and a smile on his lips.   


  
  
It was a glorious day, everybody could see that. What most people couldn't see, however, was that there were other reasons for that except the wonderful weather – which really was quite exceptional. The sky was of a clear blue colour, there wasn't a cloud in sight, and the sun beamed down on the lands in earnest, warming the cold winter air.   
  
The man standing on top of the outer ramparts smiled slightly, a sight that astonished half of the guards standing at a respectful distance and terrified the rest. Their lord seldom smiled in public, and when he did it was even more seldom a good sign. The dark-clad man, however, did not care in the slightest about what feelings he awoke in his soldiers. All he cared for at the moment was the fact that, a few hours ago, a messenger had arrived here bearing the news he had been waiting for.   
  
He turned around and leaned back against the wall, looking into the direction of the castle. It was a castle too, in the truest meaning of the word: Imposing, tall grey walls formed tall grey buildings with few windows and even fewer decorations. The courtyards were bustling with people, most of them armed and wearing the livery of his house. It was a sight that usually filled him with satisfaction, and yet he found that he was too … anxious to feel anything but fevered anticipation.   
  
The man frowned. He wasn't used to feeling anxious; it was a state of mind he was almost entirely unfamiliar with, or at least had been for long, long years now. He didn't approve of anxiousness, it was a state of mind that was typical for undisciplined, short-sighted and weak people. He was none of these things, something no-one in a radius of more than a hundred miles would have disputed.   
  
That was mainly because most people in a radius of more than a hundred miles were neither stupid nor suicidal, but it was also the truth. He was going to achieve what generations of his forefathers had only dreamt of, and he was going to achieve it soon, or in fact _now_.   
  
It was still a little bit hard to believe, he thought, even though he had spoken with the messenger himself less than three hours ago, or rather spoken _to _the messenger who had been too afraid to even raise his head. It was a behaviour that, under normal circumstances, would have either made him furious or have amused him, depending on how bad his mood was, but today it had simply caused him to dismiss the man with an impatient move of his hand.   
  
Well, no matter how hard to believe it was: His men would be arriving today, or to be more precise, about now, which was the reason why he was out here on the outer ramparts of the castle anyway. And the most interesting thing about it was that they were bringing the elf with them, or rather an elf. He didn't really care who he was as long as he told him what he wanted to know; his identity was of no importance, none whatsoever.   
  
For a moment, he considered the very remote possibility that the elf wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear, an idea he abandoned almost instantaneously. The only thing that could destroy his plans now would be that the elf _couldn't _tell him what he wanted to know, not that he wouldn't. He was a man who saw violence and fear as a way to rule and a way to ensure that he kept ruling, and no-one knew better than he that Glamir was a master of his craft. He smiled thinly to himself. Oh yes, the elf would tell him everything he wanted to hear, it would only take some time, that was all. They were on a tight schedule, yes, but he still had time enough to watch his master torturer break the elf should he prove to be a stubborn one.   
  
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice that a servant was walking up to him slowly and hesitantly, his grey and black livery in stark contrast to the costly robes the two men wore who were following him, projecting an air of indifference that marked them as outsiders. The servant traded a short look with the soldiers of their liege's personal bodyguard, only to receive an almost imperceptible shrug from one of the younger men. Wonderful, the man thought to himself, hesitating for the smallest moment. That was just his kind of luck, wasn't it, having to interrupt their lord when he was thinking…   
  
After another moment he plucked up his courage and began to walk up to the dark-clad man who was still staring blindly at the castle, oddly comforted by the quiet, somewhat menacing presence of the two men at his back. It was they who had insisted on speaking with his lord, after all; it hadn't been his idea to climb up here and risk his life by disturbing his liege. He wasn't that stupid, none of the servants was, in fact.   
  
When he was a mere ten feet away the dark haired man's head turned sharply to the side, and cold, slightly furious eyes scrutinised the servant who felt the distinct urge to jump over the wall to his right to ensure he didn't suffer too long before the end. It was at least forty feet down, and to fall to one's death was an incomparably quicker and cleaner death than angering his lord.   
  
For a moment, the man truly contemplated jumping, before he sighed inwardly and bowed low before the other man, his eyes fixed firmly on his lord's expensive footwear once he straightened up again.   
"Lord Súliat's delegates wished to see you, sir. They said it was most urgent."   
  
The dark haired man nodded slowly, his anger at being disturbed dissipating when he looked at the two solemn-faced men behind the almost trembling servant. He did not know what they wanted, but he could very well guess. He sighed inwardly. He had known everything couldn't simply stay as good as it currently was.   
  
"Go," he simply said and waved a hand into the servant's direction. He didn't look at the man who was scurrying off so fast that he might as well have been wearing winged shoes on his feet and turned slightly to the left, fixing an authoritative stare on the men of his bodyguard. "Leave us," he added quietly.   
  
The soldier's captain looked up sharply and gave the two emissaries a dark glare, but nodded his head and motioned his men to retreat. The men walked down the rather narrow walkway to stop a few more paces away; still close enough to be able to intervene if their lord was threatened in any way but far away to offer some privacy. They didn't withdraw completely, of course – neither they nor their liege were stupid, after all.   
  
The dark-clad man waited for the guards to withdraw to a respectful distance before he turned around, beginning to walk down the walkway into the direction of the nearest tower which were integrated into the ramparts at regular intervals. The two delegates were in the position to ask for a meeting at any time, but there was no reason to agree to one without letting them know who was in charge here.   
  
"Come," he told the two men who had given him quick bows once he had turned into their direction. "Join me on a walk to the tower."   
  
The older of the two looked at his companion and hurried to catch up with the dark haired lord, not willing to be left behind just like that.   
"You promised us an audience yesterday, my lord, yet when we arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time we were told you were, what was the term … busy?"   
  
"I _was _busy," the man ground out, trying to remind himself that he needed the money the lord of these two offered. Up until now the mysterious Lord Súliat had paid the gold he had promised, and if that source of income dried up… No, he thought quickly, he didn't want that.   
  
"I see," the delegate said, drawing the words out in a way that conveyed that he seriously doubted the validity of the man's words. "Well, then…"   
  
The dark haired man whirled around, a look of such fury on his face that it caused the two men to stop in mid-step.   
"I am not sure I like your tone," he hissed at the older emissary. "Nor do I like what you are implying. Are you accusing me of lying, _delegate_?"   
  
"No, of course not, my lord," the other man quickly bowed his head. "It is not my place to question the actions of one of my lord's allies."   
  
"I hope so, my Lord Sangwar," the dark-clad man nodded, obviously carefully reining in his emotions. "I seriously hope so, or I would have to terminate the treaty with your lord by sending him your head and that of the young Lord Halyo."   
  
"That would be most unfortunate indeed, my lord," the older man nodded, beginning to follow the other man who was slowly beginning to climb up the steps leading to the top of the watchtower. "Yet the treaty is why we are here. There seem to have been some delays, I understand?"   
  
"No," the dark haired man shook his head slightly, "No delays. The plans stand. We march out in a week. Your lord will get your war, don't worry."   
  
"My lord is not interested in war," the delegate shook his head as well, a calculating sparkle in his eyes. "He has merely seen a chance to aid you in regaining what is rightfully yours."   
  
The other man stopped shortly, looking at both of them with an unreadable expression on his face.   
"Of course," he nodded wryly.   
  
Sangwar narrowed his eyes slightly at the other man's back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that died as quickly as it had come.   
"Yet I understand that you delayed your departure to wait for the arrival of some of your men, is that not correct?"   
  
The dark haired man stopped on a small landing about three-quarters up the tower, turning back to face the two other men. He waited for a moment to make sure that his bodyguards who had certainly followed him had stopped as well before he began to speak, his voice flat and barely controlled.   
  
"I do owe no-one an account of my actions or decisions, my Lord Sangwar," he began slowly, in a tone of voice that caused even the older delegate to inwardly nod his head in approval. "Yet I am willing to indulge you to a certain degree, in the name of the treaty between your lord and myself. If you have a question to ask, ask it here and now, unless you wish to test my temper with petty insinuations."   
  
Sangwar might be many things, but he was neither stupid nor reckless, inexperienced or unskilled in the art of diplomacy.   
"As you wish, my lord. I ask of you then: What do you want with an elf?"   
  
The other man did not reply for a few seconds but merely stared at the two delegates, in his mind deciding that he had underestimated these men, and had underestimated them greatly. He should have known that they wouldn't remain in their quarters all day and do what they were told, but he honestly did not know from where they had managed to get this information. Only a few members of his war council knew about his plans of capturing an elf, and he was rather sure that these two were not part of his war council.   
  
"I," he began, taking a slow step forward, "I would be very much interested in how you obtained that information. Very much interested indeed."   
  
Sangwar did not move an inch or averted his eyes, proving that, apart from a shrewd and skilled diplomat, he was also no coward.   
"A rumour I heard somewhere, my lord; nothing more, nothing less. It is true then?"   
  
The man narrowed his eyes and refrained from losing his temper, something he was not used to. If he wanted to lose his temper, then lose his temper he did, and whoever crossed his way paid the price. That he couldn't harm either of the two men standing on front of him began to irk him immensely, especially considering their sometimes less than subservient nature.   
  
He was still not sure what he should think of the two delegates his mysterious benefactor had sent these few weeks ago. The only thing he was sure of was that neither their lord's name nor theirs were real and that they were far cleverer than he had first thought. The first was proven by the small sparkle in their eyes that was visible every time the men heard their names or that of their lord, a sparkle that looked as if they were laughing about a joke only they understood, and the second by the fact that they had somehow managed to find out things only about ten other people in this city should know. The man smiled inwardly. He would have to have a talk with his war council, wouldn't he…   
  
"It is of no concern to you," he finally answered curtly. "All you – and your lord, for that matter – need to know is that we will proceed as planned. The elf is part of the plan, and has been since the beginning."   
  
Sangwar cocked his head to the side, his interest apparently piqued.   
"I have met a few elves in my lifetime, my lord, and luckily never as enemies. They are a proud, arrogant, strong people. To make him co-operate with you might prove harder than you think. Besides, what do you hope to learn from him?"   
  
The dark haired man gave the two emissaries a small smile, a smile that could have been taken right from their own lord's face, so full was it of hidden meaning and quiet menace.   
"Oh, he _will _co-operate with me, trust me on this, gentlemen. He will tell me everything I want to know and everything I might want to know before this week is over."   
  
He turned and once again began to climb the rough stone steps, followed by the two other men who traded a long look behind the other's back. It was clear that the man did not intend to divulge what he was planning with the elf. Just as well, Sangwar thought amusedly, they'd find out anyway. Everywhere, even here, there were people who were willing to share certain bits of information for the right price. If there was one thing he had learned as envoy in his lord's service, it was that every man had his price.   
  
They reached the thick wooden door leading out onto the tower's platform and the dark haired man stopped, turning back to them with an intense, almost fanatical gleam in his eyes.   
  
"I understand your concerns," he told them slowly, obviously having to fight with himself to remain so civil. "Yet I can assure you that everything is going according to plan. We will be ready to march in a week, even if the elf might be unwilling to share his knowledge with us."   
  
"So he is no important part of your plan, my lord?" the younger of the two asked for the first time, awaking in the dark-clad man the powerful urge to have his tongue permanently removed. Who was this whelp to question him, envoy or not?   
  
"Yes and no, my Lord Halyo," he said rather friendly and with an undertone in his voice that conveyed his displeasure at having to answer to someone who could be hardly older than thirty summers. "Everything else is in place. All I want is … reassurance, you could say."   
  
The older of the two men shot his companion a very pointed look that told him rather clearly that he could expect drastic repercussions if he didn't stay silent, and inclined his head to the dark haired man, raising it again to study him closely.   
"We've heard that you managed to convince the Easterlings' ambassadors not to cut each other's throats while serving you. May I congratulate you on that achievement?"   
  
The other man gazed at the two with an emotionless face, proving to Sangwar once again what he had been suspecting from the very beginning: This rather unstable man didn't possess the slightest sense of humour.   
  
"You are remarkably well informed," the lord nodded at the older man.   
  
Sangwar shook his head and moved his hands in a vague gesture that was apparently meant to describe the many unexpected things that happened in the world and a man's inability to influence his fate.   
"Since we seldom leave the castle, my lord, we hear many things."   
  
The other man grimaced inwardly, ignoring the innocent expression on the envoys' faces. Of course the two of them didn't leave the castle, he had forbidden it after all. And one could say many thing about Lord Súliat's delegates, but they weren't stupid and knew exactly which lines not to cross.   
  
"Then let me show you something," he told them and moved forward, placing his left hand on the door handle and pulling it open.   
  
The guards on duty gave his lord and his two guests a quick, shocked look, bowed deeply and withdrew to the other side of the circular platform high above the ground, doing their best to become invisible. Their lord, however, didn't pay them any attention but stepped forward, looking to the West where the sun was slowly beginning to set.   
  
The two delegates followed the dark haired man out onto the platform, but froze in surprise when they surveyed the plains to the west of the city that spread out under them. It looked very different from when they had arrived here, and even though they had been prepared for what they would see, it was something entirely different now that they saw it with their own eyes.   
  
The dark-clad man smiled openly, enjoying his guests' surprise. If there was one thing he hated, it was not being in control of a situation, and to see the two envoys so shocked pacified his more than a little frayed nerves.   
"What do you think, my Lord Sangwar?" he asked softly. "That should be enough to realise my plans, shouldn't it?"   
  
Slowly, the older man tore his eyes away from the rather impressive display of what money could buy you and gave the dark haired man a curt, respectful nod.   
  
"Yes, my lord," he said seriously. "I think that should be quite enough indeed."   


  
  
As soon as Legolas saw the dark, imposing mountains that were beginning to show on the edge of the horizon, still too far away for mortal eyes to see, he knew that they were in trouble.   
  
That wasn't exactly true, he corrected himself after a moment, since they already were in trouble they would simply get into even more and deeper trouble, even though he had thought it rather improbable. He shot a look at the guards surrounding him and Aragorn, and nodded to himself when he saw that they were sitting up in their saddles and shooting the horizon furtive glances, as if they were expecting something to appear there any minute now. Oh yes, he thought. Deep trouble.   
  
The elf gave his friend who was riding next to him a quick look, noticing that the man was looking at him with a curious look on his face. It was highly unusual that they were allowed to ride together, for the men thought them – correctly – far too dangerous if not separated. That they were riding next to each other could mean only one thing: They were close to their destination and the men were trying to minimise the chances of one of them escaping, something that caused a shiver of dread to run down his spine, because he really did not want to think about what would happen when they got there.   
  
After making sure that the guards were too busy trying to spy the mountains he could already clearly see, Legolas stared straight ahead, keeping his voice so low that only a ranger would be able to hear his words.   
"I know where we are," he told the young man in whispered Sindarin.   
  
He didn't look at the young ranger, but without straining his imagination overly much he could almost see Aragorn arch a dark eyebrow.   
"So do I," the man told him in the same language. "In Rhûn."   
  
Legolas hid a small smile and shook his head minutely, wondering how someone of not even 25 years of age could be so annoying.   
"Yes, that is quite correct," he told him. "But I know _where _in Rhûn we are. Don't try to see them, they're still too far away to see for Men, but there are some mountains appearing on the horizon."   
  
Aragorn would almost have grinned openly.   
"That's rather reassuring, since they should. I have seen maps of Rhûn in my father's library. There is a mountain range not far from the western shores of the Sea."   
  
Legolas quickly checked if their conversation was still unnoticed – which was indeed the case unless the men simply didn't care if they talked to each other or not – before he answered.   
"Aye, the Mountains of Rhûn, but they are still farther to the south. These here are the foothills. They are rather high mountains with twin peaks that are nearly always covered in snow. My people call them the Ered Dhuir."   
  
"The Dark Mountains?" Aragorn asked wryly. "Charming."   
  
"The name originates from their unusually dark colour," Legolas explained. "As far as I can tell, there's nothing there, no town, no city, even though there were some rumours lately, rumours of people disappearing around here."   
  
"This is Rhûn," the man retorted softly. "People disappear here all the time."   
  
"Well, I won't, and neither will you," Legolas whispered back. "We are close to our destination now. The men are getting restless."   
  
"So am I," Aragorn replied darkly. "I had hoped we could escape today but…"   
  
He trailed off and chanced a look at his elven friend, who nodded slightly.   
  
"Damn Cendan," both of them hissed together.   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes and added darkly,   
"I'd never thought I'd say something like that, but I somehow wish Teonvan were in charge of the guards, not Cendan. Teonvan would never have thought of doubling the guards today."   
  
"It doesn't matter now, _mellon nín_," the ranger shook his head. "What's done is done. We might get a chance to escape when we've arrived at our mysterious destination."   
  
"Oh, of course," Legolas muttered sarcastically, trying not to laugh since he knew it would hurt a lot. It had been a week since Aragorn had found him, and yet he was still far from healed. He wasn't as weak as they wanted the men believe, but he was not hale either. "As soon as these men have reached the impregnable castle of their evil lord and have thrown us into the underground dungeons guarded by a fire-breathing dragon, we will manage to escape. I see your point."   
  
Aragorn turned his head, not caring if the guards saw him speaking to Legolas.   
"Who said anything about a fire-breathing dragon?"   
  
"That was just an educated guess based on our past experiences."   
  
Aragorn was just trying to remember when exactly they had encountered a dragon, of the fire-breathing or any other kind, but before he had even opened his mouth to tell his friend that he was, once again, exaggerating grossly, Teonvan's voice interrupted his thoughts, sounding extremely pleased with himself and the world in general.   
  
"It is very impolite to talk in a language your companions cannot understand. It might even be considered … offensive."   
  
Aragorn turned slightly to the side, glaring darkly at the other man.   
"You are no companion of mine, Teonvan."   
  
Teonvan grinned a little, enjoying the furious looks his two prisoners shot him. It was almost a shame they would reach the city in a few hours, he thought. He might get rid of the two of them and be freed of the responsibility, but he would … miss them. He blinked a little bit surprised. He would indeed miss them, but then again, maybe he would be able to … visit them a few times while they were still alive – he did know Glamir quite well, after all. Then again, they wouldn't live long now, at least the ranger wouldn't, about that he was quite certain.   
  
"Oh, but I am … Strider, wasn't it?" the man replied pleasantly and smiled at the younger man. "An interesting name you have there. How did you come by it?"   
  
Aragorn ignored Legolas' cautioning look and gave the brown haired man the _look_, wondering for a moment of it was caution or cowardice that caused the other to stay safely out of their reach on the other side of the circle their guards had drawn around them. Probably the latter, he decided quickly.   
"A friend gave it to me. You know what a friend is, don't you?"   
  
Legolas would have loved to screw his eyes shut. Couldn't that stubborn ranger see that, right now, he was very high up on Teonvan's list of persons to have some "fun" with? He may not be very skilled at reading humans' emotions and intentions since he hadn't met all that many in his life until now, but even he could see that there was nothing Teonvan wanted more than repeat what he had done to him a week ago – with a few changes, maybe. Teonvan might be many things, but he wasn't unimaginative.   
  
The man in question looked at the friendly smiling face of the ranger and tried to ignore the carefully emotionless faces of the majority men who were encircling the two prisoners. Even though they seemed to have accepted him as their new captain, they did not like him, he did not harbour any illusions about that. That was perfectly alright with him because he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice every single one of them if he had to, or if it aided him in any way. As long as they did as he commanded he didn't care in the slightest, and they _did _do what he commanded. The necessity to uphold the chain of command and to follow orders was too deeply instilled in all of them.   
  
He lazily nodded at Caellan, his large, burly lieutenant who was riding right next to the ranger, and a moment later the young man was almost thrown out of his saddle by a punch to his side, apparently much to the displeasure of both his horse and the blonde elf. Teonvan nodded contentedly while he watched the ranger slowly right himself again, his face of a sickly white colour. Caellan might not be a very intelligent man, but he definitely knew how to pack a punch.   
  
"Yes, boy," he finally told the dark haired man. "I know what a friend is. A friend is a person who gives others power over you and what a sensible man therefore avoids."   
  
Aragorn would certainly have replied something rather rash and ill-advised had he had any breath to do so, but since he was still contemplating just how many ribs had been bruised by Caellan's punch – right now he was still torn between five and all of them – he was far too busy breathing to be able to speak. Legolas, however, had no such problems and glared at the brown haired commander, pushing back dark memories that rose inside of him at the man's sight alone.   
  
"You are a fool," he told the man, praying inwardly that Aragorn would remain silent this time. "True friends and family are the only things one can rely on in this world, and if you haven't realised that by now, you will very likely never understand it. I only hope I'll be there when that fact finally kills you."   
  
For a moment, the elf's words in combination with his contemptuous face were enough to make Teonvan wish to stop, get another fire burning and pick up exactly where he left off when the ranger had decided to join them, but then he remembered that they were only about an hour or two away from the city. Cendan, his much beloved lieutenant, had sent a messenger ahead to inform their lord of their impending arrival, and if there was one thing he didn't want to do, it was to let their lord wait, not even to have some fun with the prisoners.   
  
He gave his other lieutenant riding next to the elf another nod, and a second later the fair haired being's head was whipped to the side by a powerful blow to his face, something that filled Teonvan with rather a lot of satisfaction.   
  
"Do be careful with what you say," he advised his two captives. "We'll reach our destination in a few hours, and my lord is not as lenient as I am. You might regret such uncourteous words in the future." He turned to Lybran who was just massaging his knuckles that seemed to ache after having made contact with the elf's cheekbone. "Let's pick up the pace. We wouldn't want to keep him waiting, would we?" Teonvan was already spurring on his horse to return to the head of the column when he quickly looked back over his shoulder and added with a nasty side glance, "Oh, and no talking from now on. We wouldn't want the two _friends _here to get hurt because they couldn't keep their mouths shut, would we?"   
  
Legolas blinked in an attempt to clear his vision of the grey spots that had begun to close in on him on all sides, and simply stared at the man's retreating back while he waited for the world to stop spinning. The men only ever hit him in the face, apparently afraid to aggravate his injuries, but Aragorn wasn't so lucky. He took everything back, he thought wryly as he glanced at Aragorn to see if the man was alright. He didn't wish that Teonvan were in command of their guards, because if that were case, they would already be dead now.   
  
A few moments later, the men began to pick up the pace, and Legolas spent the next few hours with dark contemplations of what could be waiting for them at the end of this journey. It was a question that had never been far from his or Aragorn's mind in the past week, even more so after they had found out about these men's association with Adruran.   
  
The elven prince once again shot his human friend a quick look and even received a curt nod in response. Legolas kept studying his friend's still rather pale, bruised face out of the corners of his eyes, beginning to feel panic creep up on him. If their situation hadn't looked bad before they had known that these here were Adruran's associates, it definitely did now.   
  
Legolas sighed inwardly as he thought back to their meeting with the dark haired, ruthless and very, very skilled human commander on the slopes of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. It was only because of the man's somewhat interesting way of defining the word "reasonable" that Aragorn still lived, since he had foregone a chance to kill the young ranger after it had become apparent that his cause had been lost. The encounter with Adruran and his men, and especially with Geran, a man whom he had killed with great satisfaction, had been anything but pleasant, but it had taught Legolas a few things, and all of them boded ill for them now.   
  
The main thing it had taught him was that whoever their lord was, he was dangerous and he was desperate. He had sent a group of more than twenty soldiers – and good soldiers at that – to retrieve a buried treasure, an enterprise whose chances of success had been more than slim from the very beginning. The men who had survived the battle had been too afraid to even tell them their names when asked about their identities or their lord, and he had even watched one of them commit suicide rather than allow himself to be captured.   
  
Legolas gritted his teeth as the fury that was attached to the still fresh memory welled up inside of him. It had been the sensible thing to do for that man too. After what he had done to Aragorn, he would have killed him himself had the man lived even a second longer.   
  
Fact was that this was the one mysterious lord on Arda by whom he did not wish to be captured. If even Adruran's and Reran's men were afraid of him, Legolas didn't even want to find out how he would treat them – or, more precisely, he added, the panic in his heart even growing, how he would treat Aragorn.   
There was really no reason he could think of right now why the men should keep the ranger alive once they reached their destination, none at all. If what he had heard about that lord was correct, he would hardly clap Aragorn on the back, declare that it had all been a mistake and that he was free to go. Legolas smiled inwardly. That would be a rather pleasant development – extremely unlikely, but pleasant nonetheless. He would give everything to know that Aragorn was safe and as far away from Teonvan as possible…   
  
His frantic musings that were beginning to go round and round like the wheel on a cart were interrupted after almost two hours when a man at the head of the column called out, something that caused all the men's heads to snap up.   
"There! The city!"   
  
Legolas raised his head, inwardly cursing himself for not noticing sooner that they had reached their destination. His eyesight was far superior to that of any man, and he should have seen the city before them! Trading a quick glance with Aragorn, Legolas raised himself on his horse as much as his bonds allowed him, and got his first good look at the city that had appeared in front of them, looking dark and forbidding in the slowly setting sun.   
  
The first thing Legolas noticed was that it was nearly perfectly round in appearance, encircled by a thick, circular, thoroughly efficient-looking wall that was at least 25 feet high. It was built of grey, quadratic stones that appeared as massive as the mountains behind the city, and round towers were visible every once in a while, covering every single square inch of the outer side of the wall. There appeared to be only four ways into the city, by four gates that were located almost exactly to the north, south, west and east, and large wooden doors that looked solid enough to keep a horde of trolls out barred the way.   
  
There were a multitude of other things Legolas noticed as he studied the city as they drew closer, so close that he could even begin to see single houses along the four main roads, but two seemed to struggle for domination in his mind: One, that there really was a castle in the very centre of the city, looking even darker, more menacing and simply eviller than the rest of the city, and that, outside the city gate facing to the west, the one to their immediate right, there was the biggest assembly of tents he had ever seen in his life, and he had seen quite a lot of encampments.   
  
It took Legolas only a moment to realise what kind of camp this was, and he gritted his teeth tightly as his eyes wandered over the multicoloured tents. Unless he was very much mistaken and this was the biggest and most militaristic group of gypsies on this side of the Misty Mountains (who shouldn't be in the possession of chariots anyway), this was an army camp. They were drawing closer to the towering walls of the city, more than close enough to count the tents and their occupants.   
  
"Great Manwë," he finally whispered in Elvish, trying to keep his voice steady and not at all caring what the men might do if they caught them talking to each other again. "Easterlings. There are hundreds, nay, thousands of them."   
  
Next to him, Aragorn had turned an extraordinary shade of white as he quickly turned his head to look at their guards, only to turn back to his friend when he saw that the men were at least as distracted as they were.   
"At least seven thousand, I'd rather say more." He locked eyes with Legolas, shocked. "There is only one thing anyone could want with seven or eight thousand Easterlings."   
  
Legolas nodded darkly, his silver-blue eyes turning the colour of a deep, troubled pool.   
"War," the fair haired elf whispered. "The Easterlings never gather in these numbers unless they want to do battle." His eyes widened slightly, and a new urgency spread over his face. "We must get back to Mirkwood, Estel, we must warn the king! Eight thousand Easterlings on our southern border, that is…"   
  
"A nightmare," Aragorn nodded grimly, his eyes being drawn back to the camp that was slowly disappearing behind the rounded city wall as they drew closer to the northern gate. Even his eyes could clearly see the men that seemed to fill every single square inch in front of the gates, laughing and talking to each other or sharpening the blades of their swords and axes. "They could invade Wilderland, or Rohan, or attack Gondor by advancing through Ithilien! Or cross the Anduin and attack Anórien!"   
  
"This is bad," Legolas mumbled softly, his eyes darting from left to right. He hadn't expected anything like this. Why would someone who was about to start a war draw unnecessary attention to himself by kidnapping one of the Elvenking's subjects? "This is very bad. Strider, there's nothing to the North that could stop nearly ten thousand Easterlings who invade without warning! We do not have the strength to stop them, and neither have Lake-town and Dale!"   
  
"My father would help," Aragorn tried to reassure his friend as they passed the huge gates, their guards drawing even closer to them in case they tried to bolt at the last second – something that would have been eminently stupid, of course. "And so would the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. And Gondor wouldn't tolerate such a large hostile force on their northern borders either."   
  
"Maybe," Legolas shot back, ignoring his guards' dark looks who seemed anything but pleased about the fact that their two prisoners were once again conversing in that strange language of theirs. "But my people are fading, Estel, you know that as well as I do. And the Gondorians are hard-pressed to keep their borders as it is; they wouldn't be able to send aid even if they wanted to."   
  
Somehow, it irked Aragorn to hear the elf say such things about his distant kin in the south, but the truth of Legolas' words could not be denied. He knew from talks with his father, brothers and rangers that Gondor's resources were stretched thin at the moment, and the last thing the new Steward Ecthelion needed was a war that would force him to pull off troops from his eastern border.   
  
"You're right," he whispered softly, "Let's see if we can escape then, shall we? I think we'll stand a fair chance – unless there is a fire-breathing dragon, of course. I hate dragons."   
  
Legolas gave the man a small, uneasy smile before he redirected his attention to his surroundings, just in time to see the large doors made of hardwood swing shut behind them with a sound that would have appeared ominous and foreboding even to the most unbiased person. He shot Teonvan who was riding in front of their little troupe a quick look. The man appeared disconcertingly subdued and serious, something that couldn't be good. He really was not looking forward to meeting this mysterious lord…   
  
The street leading up to the castle seemed to be one of the city's largest, with quite a lot of shops, taverns and the like. To Legolas who had seldom visited the cities of Men nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Aragorn knew immediately that something was wrong. The sun hadn't even fully set, and still there were almost no salesmen praising the quality of their merchandise, no potential buyers wandering from door to door or children running up and down the street in an attempt to escape their mothers who would soon come looking for them. The few people that were out on the street flattened themselves to the walls of the buildings once they caught sight of their group, and if it was unusual to see a group of seventeen humans escort two bruised prisoners to the castle, they surely did not show it. Not even the presence of an elf was enough to cause the people to look up at them or after them for longer than absolutely necessary.   
  
Aragorn shuddered. This city was afraid, from men down to women and children. These humans weren't afraid in a way that would be justified by the fact that there were a few thousand Easterlings camping on their doorstep; it was a fear that went deeper, far deeper. The dark haired ranger watched how a young mother pulled her two children close to her as they passed her, shielding them with her body as best as she could. These people were so afraid that they didn't even know what it meant not to fear someone – and he could just guess who that someone was.   
  
He took his eyes off the blonde woman and slowly shifted his gaze to the castle, all the while trying to make sense of this situation. The humans here looked like the usual kind of men one could find in the northern parts of Rhovanion, just like those that inhabited Dale and the its sister-town Esgaroth. They weren't Easterling, he was sure about that, so why would the men camping outside the walls ally themselves with the lord of this place?   
  
They were drawing closer and closer to the castle, and Aragorn saw that it was built of a dark grey, almost black stone that seemed to absorb most of the dying sunlight, swallowing it like a sponge absorbed water. The walls were at least forty feet high and so solid that Aragorn almost immediately lost all the hope that still lived within his heart. There was no way they would get out of there once they were inside.   
  
There was nothing they could do to prevent just that, however, and so they soon passed the bridge that stretched over the moat and rode through the gates that looked even more ominous and foreboding than the city gates. The horses' hooves connected loudly with the swept pavement as they entered a large, grey and thoroughly dreary courtyard, the dreariest and at the same time busiest courtyard Aragorn had ever seen. People clad in grey and black liveries hustled to and fro, and there were more soldiers than one could count. Something like panic began to spread in the young ranger's heart. He would have preferred a fire-breathing dragon now that he thought about it.   
  
They were slowly nearing the large, thoroughly intimidating main building, and Aragorn's attention was attracted by the dark banner that flew from its highest tower. It was a large, square, black piece of cloth, and the ranger's keen eyes effortlessly saw the white thread on it that depicted what looked like a ruined city next to a river. There also was a mountain behind the city, and red thread was added skilfully to the picture so that it seemed that the buildings were on fire. Aragorn felt how the feelings of dread multiplied tenfold. What kind of person would choose _that _as a banner?   
  
Before he could find an answer to that question, Ráca was jerked to a stop – something that the black horse did not enjoy overly much and promptly bit the man who had grasped her bridle. The man screamed in pain and rage and raised a hand to strike the insolent animal, but either the horse's threatening neighing, Aragorn's murderous look or his companions' teasing laughter convinced him otherwise and he settled for pulling the ranger off the horse.   
  
Aragorn continued glaring at the man for a few more moments while he was roughly shoved forward until he was standing next to Legolas who was held by the arm by an especially emotionless-looking Cendan. Now that he had spent some time with the other man, Aragorn knew that Cendan always looked impassive and expressionless, but the more emotionless he looked the more agitated he truly was. Right now, he concluded, Cendan was _very _unhappy. Well, he wasn't the only one, he added wryly. He wasn't exactly ecstatic with joy to be here, either.   
  
Next to him, Legolas was looking up at the flag that was fluttering in the icy winds and frowning heavily. It was one of the most depressing banners he had ever seen, but that was not what held his attention. He knew that motif; it reminded him of something – if he could only remember of what…   
  
He was brought out of his thoughts when Teonvan bowed to a man wearing dark heavy robes that marked him of a man of some importance, and he tore his eyes off the flag and fixed them on the commander's face who came to a stop in front of them, trailed by a group of guards wearing the now familiar grey and black livery.   
"The officers will come with me, the rest is dismissed," he told the assembled men.   
  
The men nodded and began to walk off into the direction of another building that looked like a barrack of some sort – then again, Legolas thought, most building here looked like that so he might very well have been mistaken – and before either the elf or the ranger could blink they were surrounded by a group of rather large, rather menacing looking guards.   
  
Teonvan turned back from where he had been giving instructions to his lieutenants – and had been ignoring Cendan in the process – and grinned at the two of them, a malicious sparkle in his eyes that Legolas had hoped never to see again.   
"Well, well, well, it's almost sad, isn't it? We have really reached the city and must soon part."   
  
Aragorn narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to distract himself from the slowly growing fear in the pit of his stomach.   
"My heart bleeds."   
  
The other man grinned even more broadly as he took a step closer to the ranger.   
"Be careful, boy, or it really might. I'll see you again no matter what, trust me."   
  
The younger man did not reply, mainly because Legolas had rammed an elbow into his bruised ribs, and so Teonvan turned back around, bowing again to the man in the dark robes in his oily, overly deferential manner.   
"Our lord is awaiting us?"   
  
The man looked evenly at the brown haired commander, distant loathing in his eyes, before he once again fixed them on the fair haired elf who was pretending not to notice the amount of attention he received.   
"Come."   
  
Well, Legolas thought dazedly while they were pushed forward, up the stairs and through the dark door leading into the main building, the people here didn't appear to like Teonvan overly much either – they appeared to have more common sense than he had been willing to give them. Then again, nobody with any common sense at all attacked one of his father's patrols.   
  
They were led or rather pulled through a maze of dark, narrow corridors and encountered rather a lot of people, all of them either guards or servants who did their best to melt into the stone walls once the troupe of guards reached them. Legolas looked at a young girl of not much more than twenty years of age with shoulder-length brown hair and bright blue eyes who pressed herself into a small niche to let them pass, and a sudden stab of pity went through his heart when she looked at him with wide eyes before casting her eyes to the floor, studying her dark coarse shoes as the soldiers went past her, giving her a few pointed looks and making loud, lewd remarks. He did _not _envy her.   
  
His thoughts were abruptly taken off the servant girl when they were pulled to a stop in front of a large double door that seemed to be just as dark as the rest of this accursed town. The man wearing the costly robes nodded at Teonvan and turned on his heel, walking back the way they had come. Had Legolas not been so worried and on the edge of a full-fledged panic, he might even have enjoyed the look of fear and terror on Teonvan's face, but the way things were he could only try to calm his breathing and not lose what was left of his composure. What if this lord had Aragorn killed, or worse, gave him to Teonvan before ordering his death? What if…   
  
The elf's musings were interrupted when the man stopped and turned back to Teonvan who was eyeing the door with trepidation, annoyance in his voice and on his face.   
"What are you waiting for? Lord Girion awaits you! You are already almost a day late; don't make everything even worse by keeping him waiting now!"   
  
Teonvan bowed his head and replied something, but Legolas was far too occupied feeling as if someone had just hit him over the head with a large, metal club to notice. Girion? Had that man said his lord's name was Girion? But … but how was that possible, that would mean that…   
  
The flag he had seen suddenly filled his mind's eye, and he knew where he had seen something like it before, more than two hundred years ago now. O the Valar, he thought dazedly, could it really be? He knew that Aragorn was looking at him in concern, but before he could assure the man that he was fine or could share his newfound knowledge with him, the doors were pushed open.   
  
Cendan grasped Aragorn's arm and pulled him forward and suddenly Teonvan was at Legolas' side and did the same, and a second later the two of them were dragged into the dark room that seemed to become even darker when the door closed behind them with a heavy thud.  
  


**TBC...  
  
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_mellon__ nín - my friend_

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**Well, that might have been a little cliffy. Just a little one of course. But I think I have given you loads of clues now - anyone should be able to realise who that evil overlord is, right? *nods* Right. Well, for those who don't figure it out, he will of course divulge it and his evil plans in the best tradition of Dr. Evil, our two friends realise that fire-breathing dragons will be the least of their worries** **and we have a little bit ranger ... angst. *hangs head* Alright, alright, ranger _torture_. Fine. *evil grin* As always: Review? ****Please****?  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
Sirithiliel** - Well, yes. These men are part of the same army, which means of course they know the ones from Erebor. *g* And no, it's not good at all.  
**Aratfeniel** - There are quite a few people who would want to kill Teonvan, I'm sure. You can kill the doll, no problem, but since I'm not sure what do with the real thing, I'd ask you to leave him alone for now. *g* Great you like Rashwe. He's going to make a few more appearances, don't worry, but I think you're right: He hates all those of the House of Elrond.  
**Deana** - Well, yes, there's something wrong with Legolas. He's out of his mind, but that's nothing new. LOL, now that you mention it, Reran sounds a little bit like 'Rerun'. The pronunciation is similar anyway, so it doesn't even matter. *g*  
**Alasse**** Tiwele** - Well, no, I guess not. If one doesn't like the first story, one will hardly read the second one. *g* About the change of perspectives: If I understand you correctly, it's FF.net's fault. I used to have a large free space between the single paragraphs, but after chapter 16 FF.net screwed with the formatting and deleted it in every single chapter. I haven't found the time to re-post every single one of them. From chapter 16 on it should be easier to read again. But I don't use *~*, mainly because that line between the two stars is kinda hard to 'get' on my keyboard. *shrugs* C'est la vie.   
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - *shakes head* Yes, indeed. They're screwed. And yes, there will be some ranger pain in the future. You don't need to boil Teonvan or anything. And don't try to shift the blame on some illness or something! You're simply evil! *g* LOL, I can very well imagine Rahswe chasing the men around! He'd have a lot of fun doing it! *nods incredulously* Uh-huh. Your pet warg. Your dyed pet warg. Sure. *holds out hand* Give him here. Now. Come on!   
**Nikara** - It's always hard keeping everything apart. I mean, it's hard to forget what everyone knows or doesn't know. All you can do is pray that you don't mix up too much. *g* Great you liked it, here's the next part!  
**Red Tigress** - It's supposed to be like that, slightly frightening I mean. 'R' for 'Rotten luck' is true though, isn't it? Their luck _is_ rotten... Poor them. *huggles them* At least they found the tree, that's something, right? *g*  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - No, really, I liked Reran too. But he had to die, I'm sorry. LOL, yes, Cendan could slip and push Teonvan in. I can just picture it: "Oops, I tripped. I didn't mean it, really! It was an accident! And now: Free drinks all around!" I like the falling on his own knives though. Very likely too. *g* And I don't 'jerk' my characters around! They do that all by themselves, it's no fault of mine, really! *innocent look* And don't worry: The next bit is here, yay! *g*  
**Bookworm, .303** - Don't worry, I don't think it's your computer's fault. FF.net does that all the time. It hates me and about ⅔ of all the other authors. *evil grin* Would you care to define 'not too badly'? It's a rather vague term, isn't it... A lot of people seemed to miss Rashwe, I really don't know why. *g* **  
Elenillor** - Really? Your professor can't have done that because because of that one word too much! And yes, the chapter WAS longer than 15 pages. I still manage to keep them under 20 pages, but only barely. *hangs head* I'm pathetic.   
**Alilacia** - Cendan's mother's people (don't you just love genitives? *g*) are the Easterlings. She's from the East of the Sea. Well, as I said in the A/N, I liked Reran too. But I had a good reason to kill him - at least I think so. I can't remember it now, but I had one, I'm sure about it. *evil grin* Yes, Elrohir as a hobbit IS quite an interesting idea, isn't it? Well, I didn't like the film overly much. I and my friend decided after half an hour that it was exceedingly funny - which it was, let's be honest. LOL, you have a "Likeable Bad Guys List"? Well, Cendan most definitely fits in there. And I use "*" instead of dots when I review. I HATE FF.net. *grrr*

**May** - Hmm, I do see your point. One thing is that I don't follow C&S' universe, and have therefore not really decided how well the twins knew Legolas before he ran into Aragorn. I think they knew each other and were even friends, but not very good ones. As to Legolas' naiveté and innocence: I don't think that Tolkien pictured him as particularly naïve. I think he's certainly innocent in a way that most elves are (unless, of course, they are Kinslayers like Galadriel or other interesting things like that), but naïve ... I don't know. He's a wood-elf after all, and in Mirkwood you tend to lose such things as naiveté rather quickly, especially after III, 1050, which is about the time that the "Shadow" fell over Greenwood. *shrugs* That's just me, of course, and I didn't mean to imply that the twins are only worried about Aragorn. I just think that - I know that that sounds evil - considering Aragorn's importance as the Hope of Men and the fact that he is their brother, after all, (at least it's my interpretation that they would really see him as such), the twins would be more concerned about Aragorn than about Legolas, at least at first. Kind of an instinct, if you wish. *g* Well, as I said, that's just me.  
**Marbienl** - *g* I see. Well, "talen" and "Zahlen" does sound rather similar. I'll remember that. And yes, I believe that Thranduil wouldn't pay for one of his subjects. No king or government can bow to blackmailing, and I don't even think that Thranduil would have paid for Legolas. He's not that kind of king. *g* *shakes head* No, no pleasure slave. Those are hardly important to gain "what your forefathers have dreamt of", huh? Hmm, sorry, but the next ED has already my sister's personality, and, belive me, she's scarier than you. *shudders* Much, much scarier... I knew about the maggots. Have you seen Gladiator? It's in there. It worked quite well too, I'm told. And I don't think that Rashwe would forgive Elrohir, no matter what he'd do. He hates him. *g*  
**Gwyn** - Yup, loyalty has nothing to do with personal feelings. Well, most of the time it has, but still. *g* Hmm, you want to see Legolas angst? I think there's some in the next few chapters, even though Aragorn is most definitely worse off. *huggles ranger* Poor boy.  
**Strider's Girl** - *g* They're always in more trouble than they realise! They're kinda stupid, aren't they? *shakes head* Males. And yes, the twins and Celylith ARE insane. Considering the company they keep, it's only natural. Glorfindel is really to be pitied. *g*  
**TheRowan**** - **Good question. One of my dictionaries says it's a word, the other says it's not. The internet dictionary also says it's not, so I guess you're right and it's not a word. I'll change it ... some time. When I have too much time at my hands, which will be ... never? *g* Thanks for pointing that out though. LOL, yes, 50 things out of 100 would be Teonvan's presence and existence in general. He REALLY doesn't like him. Great you like Rashwe. He's ... cool. Cool but evil. *g*  
**Zam**** - **For crying out loud, Reran was NOT a precious! He was evil! Bad! Mean! Yes, I liked him too, but that's beside the point! *takes Mighty Authoress Control of Doom™* Thank you! What havoc I can wreak with this... Mhahahaahaha! *runs off cackling evilly* Take Saruman and be happy. He's a freak and a pervy hobbit fancier. You can have him. And don't kill Caellan. I still have plans for him, I think. LOL, I can just picture Sauron with the Happy-Face-mask. He's look like a really nice guy, I'm sure... ROTFL! Celylith? Sugar-muffin? Oh, that's priceless... *giggles* Sugar-muffin... And I agree with Glorfindel: He should have stayed in Valinor. Manwë and Mandos are probably still laughing about that one... *g* And the answer to your last question is: I don't know. Take your pick: Either elven horses live considerably longer than normal ones, or Glorfindel is unimaginative and calls all his horses Asfaloth. *g*  
**Elvendancer** - So you got your sister to read this, huh? Well, if she's starting in the beginning, I guess we'll see her ... sometime tomorrow in a year. *g* And I know what you mean, my sister and I don't exactly hit each other all the time (for which we're a little old), but we do it from time to time nevertheless. It's great fun! *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - *evil grin* Well, don't count on it! Cendan's not going to be content with 'just' turning Teonvan in - not that it would have been of much use anyway, but that's a different story, or rather a different chapter. And Estel doesn't know _the word _himself! He wasn't even born when that happened, besides, I don't think Erestor is stupid enough to let Glorfindel do something like that ever again. So, the only ones who know the word are elves, including the twins. They might tell someone later, I don't know yet. And no, I never thought of one, and if it appears here. I won't write it out either. Sorry about that. *g*   
**Narina**** Nightfall** - *shudders* I don't understand that obsession with abbreviating almost every word you come across. And you can always get yourself a beta reader. I don't have one myself, but most authors do. And I don't know why, but I just didn't want them to start talking about Adruran. I guess I think it would be unlike them, volunteering any information or talking to each other when others can overhear them. Uhm, and you do realise that Galalith is dead, don't you? And Celylith might find indeed a new pet. I have something planned, even though I don't know if I'll manage to put it in. *shrugs* We'll see. As far as I can tell, Easterlings and Haradrim are not the same people. The Haradrim are from the South and dark-skinned, while the Easterlings live in the area around the Sea of Rhûn and east of it. They are distantly related to the Men living in the North and descendants of the Men who betrayed Fëanor in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. As far as I can see, they have nothing to do with each other. *g* You haven't been deficient in praise. Thanks a lot for all your kind words, I am glad you're enjoying this. *huggles*  
**Tychen** - Well, yes, one of these days the drawing away attention - bit will come back to bite them in the a**. Just wait for it. *g* Glad you liked the up to date info about Rhûn. I just thought that such things could very likely really happen, considering the Elves' immortality and all that... And I must regretfully inform you that it's indeed rather unlikely that one of the two happens. Sorry. *g*  
**Alariel** - *blushes* Thanks! I am very glad you're enjoying this story this far. Thanks a lot for the review - they make me smile and grin and do various other silly things! *g*  
**Jenihenpen** - *g* That's the problem with WIPs, isn't it? I hate them myself, but I don't have the patience to wait until a story is fully posted. it's my own fault, I guess. I wouldn't call it stamina, it's more stubbornness. I refuse to let a plot tell me what to do, and I am far too perfectionist to stop posting a story. *g*  
**Karone**** Evertree** - *shrugs* I don't know where these thoughts come from myself. They're suddenly there. Vicious, evil plot bunnies. *tries to shake them off* Back! Back I tell you! *gets chased away from the computer* Back!  
**Bailey** - *confused* I didn't say that, did I? Aragorn is in this chapter, and so is Legolas. Just because I didn't say he would be in it doesn't mean he isn't. *g* I like "elficide". Sounds interesting. I don't like termites either. And I don't think that Aragorn will ever learn to keep his mouth shut. *shakes head* Nah.  
**Lyn** - Well, I wouldn't exactly call it "senseless torture". You may call it "flimsily justified torture" or "nearly senseless torture", but not just "senseless". *thinks and then breaks down sobbing* Alright, it was nearly senseless. I caved in, my alter ego made me do it. There are no quick rescues in my stories though, I'm very sorry. Uhm, about the 'repetition': That was intentional? The phrase "almost understand Teonvan" was repeated on purpose, kind of like a running gag. It's even a stylistic device, it's called 'iteratio' in Latin. And about the Teonvan-not-obeying-Reran-thing: You mustn't forget that this isn't a modern or even a normal "old" army like maybe the Roman army. In this one, the most important thing isn't your rank, it's who's in the evil overlord's favour and who isn't. Cendan most definitely isn't, and Reran isn't really either, while Teonvan is. I would agree with you that, usually, every commander has the means to ensure that his orders are obeyed, but Teonvan had been sent on the mission by special request of their lord and he enjoys his favour. Reran didn't dare do anything that would really upset his lord. *shrugs* That's my interpretation of the whole thing anyway. Thanks for the review!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - No-one will ever understand FF.net, I fear. I most certainly don't. Uh-huh, a balrog the size of a Macaw parrot? And he likes carrots? That's an ... interesting balrog you have there! Oh, and I'd say all of them have heard that particular speech quite a lot of times. It would surprise me very much otherwise. And to be honest, I am quite surprised myself that so many people like Celylith. I like him too, sure, but not THAT much. Well, the CLF certainly does. *g*  
**Fewer Brain Cells Than A Garden Hose** - *giggles* I STILL like that name. Ah well. *watches as Teonvan explodes randomly* Al-right. Whatever you say. And I think Zam might indeed have started a CELF, so to speak. She likes him too, God only knows why. *shakes head*  
**Shauna** - *darkly* Beetroots can be very intelligent vegetable. They are in fact THE most intelligent vegetables ever! *g* *hugglees Speedy Award* Thank you! I usually need three or four days a chapter. Most of the time four days though. Great you liked the fire ants and termites. I don't know where that idea came from either, I most certainly didn't plan it. Uhm, Lasseg means "Little Leaf", therefore Leafie, just in case you didn't find it. *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - *ominously* And so you should be. Teonvan is not to be trifled with. Plus, he's an idiot. Well, I guess that would be possible for Cendan, but it's not his way, is it? He's not the kind of man who would murder someone in his sleep. Idiot. *g* LOL, glad we agree that Teonvan served SOME purpose. I would have hated to have created an useless villain. Hmm, I'll think about not killing Anardir. No, let's say I won't kill him. Not that that's going to do him any good, but... *g*  
**Carrie** - I'm glad your op was a success! Congrats! *confetti falls from ceiling* I hate doctors, hospitals and everything connected to them, so I'm glad you made it. Hmm, I don't think that Cendan is redeemable, at least not in the sense that he will see the error of his ways and will try to become a better person. That would be very much unlike him. Hmm again, Glorfindel losing his cool? That just might happen. I don't know yet, but it might. LOL, yes, the tree-branch-thingie is indeed only a splinter. As always: Things can get much worse... *evil cackle* And now that you mention it, all this might indeed be a reason for Aragorn to choose exile. I would have. I would never again have left Rivendell. *g* And yes, there might be another story with Elrond after this one. *huggles* Great to have you back!  
**Emiri-chan** - *blushes* Well - thank you? I'm glad you like it of course, even though there are loads of authors I could never compare with. Try Thundera Tiger or Littlefish - they are just ... wow! *g* But thanks nonetheless. And I would try and read some of your stuff, but I have never in my whole life watched any of these Japanese series - Manga or Anime? Or whatever they may be called. I wouldn't know what they're about at all. Sorry. *g*  
**Lynette - **Yes, that is of course the main problem. Our favourite ranger is just extra baggage, isn't he? I don't know yet if the bad guys will find out who Legolas is. I kinda want them to, but I would have to put it into the chapter I am currently writing and don't really know how to do it. *shrugs* We'll see. Is it really that complicated? That's the problem when you're planning stories - to yourself everything appears easy to understand and reasonable. *g* Thank for reviewing!  
**Ellyrianna** - Uhm, yes, I guess I can. I can do this to you, because I am the Almighty Authoress of Doom! Mhahahaha! *runs away laughing evilly* LOL, I was laughing so hard! Legolas had had his fun? He's really being selfish, isn't he? Well, let me think... We have a bit of mistreatment this chapter and a LOT more next chapter, so much in fact that it should even make you happy! Don't worry, there will be some angst soon. I promise. *pats her back*  
**C. Hobbes** - *pales* A literary analysis? Oh please, don't do that? As soon as you start really looking at my weird little stories, you would notice the plotholes ... then the implausibilities ... then the weird little coincidences... *shudders* No, we can't have that. *blinks* The Triplets of Bellville? I've never heard of it. Is it good?  
**Snow-Glory** - Well, yes, I guess it was a little bit un-elf-like. But he was very worried and upset, so I guess he can be forgiven this once, don't you think? Besides, I needed them to find the tree somehow. It wasn't really his fault. *g* It's my alter ego's, as always.  
**Firniswin** - Oh, don't worry. It happens that Real Life doesn't allow you enough time to review. Uhm, you like Aragorn's and Estel's oddness? There's something wrong about that! *g* And who doesn't like Glorfindel? I love him too! *huggles*  
**Starlight** - Na ja, ich dachte, sie koennten mal ein bischen Glueck gebrauchen, wie wir alle. Abgesehen davon kann niemand so viel Pech auf einmal haben. Wer ist denn hier noch normal? Wir ganz sicher nicht, und wenn es dich gluecklich macht... *zuckt Schultern* Keine Angst, du musst mich nicht mit Reviews bestechen, dein 'Gespraech' kommt schon noch. Ich weiss noch nicht, ob die Boeslinge herausfinden, wer die beiden sind. Wird sich noch herausstellen. *fieses Grinsen*  
**Miaow**** Artsy** - I would be mortified as well if I had to work with my childhood hero. Well, I don't really have a childhood hero, I guess, but I would be mortified if I had one. *blinks* You can bake with a microwave? Really? I didn't know that. I always thought you used an oven. Well, I use one. Thanks for the cake anyway. And please put back Celylith, or his father should it have been him. I need both of them. *glares grimly* Thank you.  
**Estelreader** - Thank you. I'm glad to hear that you liked the dialogue. That's the reason why the chapters are so long too, I can't make them stop. I know, I'm rather pathetic. *g* You're on the right track too with all that pain, angst, hurt and comfort of course, and no, I wouldn't kill him, at least not in such a story. Since I don't write AUs I could only write one of these Aragorn-dies-and-Legolas-sails-to-Valinor-stories, and they're much too sad for me. Thanks for the review! *huggles*  
**Grumpy** - LOL, it would be very interesting indeed if the trees started fighting back. Poor Elrohir. But you're right, at least they're not completely clueless anymore. That's something indeed. *g*  
**Miruvor** - Yes, I liked him too. He had to die, sorry. *g* You're right, there was a lot of cluelessness, but now they have finally put two and two together. You're right, it only took them two weeks or something. *shrugs* They're a little bit stupid sometimes. I hope this update was still quick enough!  
**Suzi9** - LOL, indeed. Mutiny is fun. Go join your respective armies and try it. *g* AT LEAST 30 chapters, mate. I'm really sorry, and I'll try not to exceed it by much, but I don't think I'll be very successful. *hangs head* They just don't shut up! *large grin* Oh yes, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! If Reran had read HP, he would still be alive. I'm sure Celylith would accept your bet. He would lose a lot of money though. *g* I'm glad you liked the fire ants/termites. I swear I don't plan these things, the ideas just ... well, ambush me. Yes, that't the correct term, they _ambush_ me. Vicious little things. *g* Well, technically Aragorn is of course not a Noldo, but his elven forefathers and -mothers were Noldorin, for the most part, with a dash of Sindarin blood and a bit of Maia, of course.I am very happy to hear that your head is better of course. And of course I love you! *huggles* You're my only Scottish reviewer I know of! *huggles even more* I'm sure the grades aren't THAT bad, right? And you passed Latin and Old English, congrats! *confetti falls from ceiling* Well done! And I am looking forward to those pics!  
**Amelie** - What do you mean, you can't sleep? I mean, I can always sleep? Is that a real illness? Imsomnia? That's bad... *shakes head* Poor you. I really hope you'll get better soon. Well, yes, maybe the twins and Celylith will save him. Then again, maybe they won't since they're days behind them. *g* Nope, you won't find out all about the evil overlord's plan this chapter, try the next. Then he'll explain everything, I promise! Get better soon!  
  
***shakes head* Do you see that? Now the formatting is almost back to normal – almost. I will never, EVER, understand FF.net… *grrrr* Oh, yes, sorry: Thanks a lot for the great reviews!**  
  



	20. True Colours

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
First of all, I have to vent my passionate feelings of hatred and loathing for this entire website. It didn't let me log in yesterday, and if you can't log in, you can't update, it's as simple as that. I am very sorry for the delay, but for once it truly wasn't my fault. There is also the problem that I didn't get any reviews till yesterday, so if I fail to reply to some of them at the bottom, please forgive me. I hope FF.net got most of them, but just in case it didn't I apologise in advance for not replying.  
  
Second, about the names. I see now that it wasn't quite as clear as I thought who Girion is, even though there are quite a few who got very close. I hereby award Zam Kenobi, Starlight, Galadhriel Vornionien and Narina Nightfall a cookie each for finding out (more or less) who everyone's favourite evil overlord is. *thrown confetti into air* I'm afraid though that only Sabercrazy got the meaning of Lord Súliat's emissaries even remotely right. She found out the meaning of both delegates' names - well done! I hereby award her a cookie _and_ a copy of Teonvan's book! *throws more confetti into air* To all the others I can only say: You were searching in the wrong language, sorry. *evil, cryptic grin* If you want, I can tell you next chapter though.  
  
And, finally, third: The twins & ****Co.**** I have to announce here that they're NOT in this chapter, but that they will be in the next, at least briefly. I think they'll reach this cheerful little city in about chapter ... 23. Yes, that sounds about right. So there might be a partial reunion around chapter 25. Please note that those are _estimates_. I am not promising anything. *g*  
  
  
Alright, alright, I am shutting up. I know you can't wait to get to the ranger ... angst. *g* Apart from that we also find out the evil overlord's plans, find out that he is - unsuprisingly - quite mad and have a few cheerful discussions between our favourite elf and ranger.   
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**Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 20  
  
  
It took Aragorn only a moment to decide that, if he had ever seen a darker or more depressing room, he certainly couldn't remember where right now. The walls and floor were of the same dark grey stone they had already seen in the corridors and outside, and if there was a window somewhere in here he could not see it.   
  
A shudder raced through him, only adding to the fear and worry in his heart. He would never understand how someone could build a room without even one tiny window – humans and dwarves were indeed curious races. The rest of the room wasn't much brighter and more cheerful either, he thought darkly a second later once his eyes had got used to the gloom. Some walls were draped with dark grey curtains to ward off the winter's chill, and torches burned in wrought-iron holders, casting a flickering light onto the dark surfaces.   
  
The only real piece of furniture seemed to be a large, throne-like chair that stood at the far side of the room on a small podium. It was masterfully crafted and would have been beautiful hadn't it been made of such a dark, gnarly wood that only caused the chair to appear as dark as the rest of the room.   
  
Apart from the guards who were once again pushing them forward, there were several more soldiers in the grey and black livery present; apart from that the room seemed empty. It was in fact empty, except for a man whose face was just as foreboding as the room's décor, and who had therefore to be the lord of this place, which was only logical since he was also sitting on the throne-like chair, Aragorn concluded, his growing panic being replaced by a calmness he was very thankful for. The last thing he needed now was to lose his head.   
  
Cendan and Teonvan had bowed before fully entering the room and had now straightened up again, dragging him and Legolas forward until they were only a few feet away from the podium. Teonvan once again inclined his head respectfully before turning around slightly to the impassionate elf whose arm he was grasping.   
"Bow before Lord Girion," he hissed at the friends, an unusual, frightened sparkle in his eyes.   
  
Legolas and Aragorn didn't even have to trade a look but simply stared at the brown haired man, an expression of such disbelief on their faces that Teonvan might just as well have asked them to climb up to the highest tower and fly around it a few times. Teonvan didn't grin at them when it became clear that neither of the two intended to even grace that order with an answer, something he would have done under any other circumstances; the man's gleeful, sadistic nature seemed to have melted away with the snow they had brought into the chilly room.   
  
A curt nod into Cendan's direction and a few moments later both prisoners crashed to the ground due to a kick to the back of their knees, and the four guards quickly stepped forward to keep them there as Teonvan and the dark haired lieutenant stepped forward and to the side, once again bowing slightly before the man sitting on the large chair.   
  
"Your prisoner, my lord," Teonvan said subserviently, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.   
  
"I don't know about you, but I see two," the dark haired lord retorted icily, his cold eyes wandering from the emotionless, bruised face of the elf to the equally emotionless and bruised face of the young man.   
  
"The ranger was captured when he tried to free the prisoner, my lord. We had no choice but to…"   
  
"I know," Girion interrupted the man coldly. "I actually talked with the messenger you sent ahead, Teonvan."   
  
"Of course, my lord," Teonvan mumbled softly, shooting Cendan who was standing next to him a dark look which the other man either didn't notice or ignored. Trust Cendan to send a man who not only informed their lord of their arrival but also told him everything he had wanted to explain to him in person.   
  
"And therefore I also know of Captain Reran's … demise," the dark-clad man added. "We have a lot of things to talk about later – Captain."   
  
A dark, pleased smile spread over the brown haired man's face and he nodded his head while Cendan's already emotionless face froze in an even more emotionless façade. His lord _knew_, he thought incredulously, he _knew _that Teonvan had killed Reran, and he not only did not throw him into the dungeons, he openly condoned it! He allowed a despicable creature like Teonvan to kill a good, fair captain just like that, just because it had got him what he wanted. Cendan did his best to uphold a steady, calm façade. If he himself deserved scorn and contempt for not protecting his captain, then what did his lord deserve for condoning Teonvan's actions?   
  
Had Cendan's lord known about the dark haired lieutenant's thoughts, he would most likely not have been very amused, but the way things were he simply sat on his chair and studied the defiant faces of his prisoners, a small smile on his lips as he looked at the fair haired elf's bruised features.   
"So you're too superior to bow before a mere man like me, are you, elf?"   
  
"I bend the knee only before my king and before those who have earned my respect," Legolas told the man, not at all intimidated by the threatening looks he received from the guards and Teonvan. "Neither is the case here."   
  
The room seemed to hold its breath, but the dark haired man did not seem overly distressed by the elven prisoner's bold answer, for his smile only grew wider.   
"Just the answer I expected from one of the Firstborn. It is good to see that some things always remain the same," he said friendly before turning his head slightly to the side, looking at the young ranger who was kneeling next to the elf, held in this position by the hands of two guards on his shoulders. "What I did not expect is you, ranger."   
  
"I'm so sorry to ruin your plans," Aragorn said before he could stop himself. "Some people, however, like surprises, or so I've heard."   
  
The dark-clad man's face darkened. He was apparently not willing to put up with such candour from the younger man, and before Aragorn in his amazing stupidity could add something that would get him killed, Legolas turned to the side and glared at his human friend.   
  
_"Nuitho lam lín, Estel,"_ he told the young ranger insistently in a low hiss. _"Ú- 'ado chin dîn, pedithon na chyn."_   
  
Aragorn glared back at the elf, trying to tell him without words that there was no way he would allow Legolas to distract these people for his sake, but his eyes were drawn to the face of the dark haired man when he began to chuckle loudly.   
"Listen to your friend, _Estel_," he said in heavily accented, but understandable Sindarin. "An interesting name you have there, boy, especially for a man. Hope – rather ironic, is it not?"   
  
Aragorn traded a shocked look with his friend before he looked at the other man, silver eyes wide and unbelieving.   
"How do you know this language? What do you want? Who _are _you?"   
  
"My family has always set a high value on following the old ways. Especially in terms of education," the man said cheekily in the Common Tongue, which was a good thing too, Aragorn thought defiantly. This man had obviously learnt Sindarin from a person who had never spent any time whatsoever in the company of a native speaker, and the language the young ranger had come to consider his mother tongue did not deserve to be butchered like this.   
  
"And," the man went on, "if you want to know who I am, ask the elf. He knows."   
  
Legolas ignored Aragorn's questioning look and kept staring steadily at the man in front of him, searching for – and, to his vexation, also finding – traces of the man he had known so long ago in the dark haired human.   
"You are from Dale," he said quietly, not ceasing his intense study of the man. "That's what is depicted on the flag; the burning valley of Dale with the Lonely Mountain and the River Running."   
  
"Girion," Aragorn nodded thoughtfully, oblivious to his friend's pleading look that asked him to stay silent, for Eru's sake. "The last Lord of Dale before the coming of the dragon."   
  
"Very perceptive," Girion nodded, a smile once again appearing on his face, something that was entirely unusual for him. "Girion is my ancestor."   
  
"If you are from Dale, then why are you doing this?" Legolas asked hastily before the dark haired man could fix his attention on Aragorn. He tried to sit up straighter, but was hindered by the restraining hands of his guards. "The Men of Dale have ever been the friends and allies of the Wood-elves of Mirkwood!"   
  
Girion leaned back in his chair, a dark frown marring his face.   
"My family may be from Dale, but I am not _of _Dale," he retorted darkly. "The Lake-men and the Men of Dale are nothing but dogs fighting for the scraps you throw them!"   
  
"Scraps?" Legolas asked incredulously, the contempt he felt for these people finally breaking through his carefully erected façade and spreading on his face. "We 'throw' them nothing! King Bard is our ally, and…"   
  
Even the most unobservant person would have noticed that that had been the wrong thing to say. The sitting man shot to his feet and his face assumed a red colour in a matter of seconds.   
"Bard!" the man spat. "Bard is no-one, nothing, a coward! The dragon is finally gone and dead and what does he do? He settles for what we had before! He should have taken Lake-town and Erebor and all that comes with it!"   
  
"That would have meant war," Aragorn shook his head, not at all liking the way this man was losing his temper. "He only took what was his, what had belonged to Girion once, as every honourable man would have…"   
  
In a movement almost too fast to follow, the dark haired man had moved in front of the ranger and grasped him by the throat, beginning to close his hand around the other man's unprotected neck.   
"Heed your friend's advice, boy," he hissed furiously as he watched the younger man struggle to draw breath despite his fist that was blocking his breathing. "It is only because of a whim that I didn't have you killed at the gates. It is a mistake I am more than willing to rectify if you do not hold your tongue now. Understood?"   
  
He closed his hand a little more tightly around the other's neck only to release the young ranger as quickly as he had seized him, spinning around to his chair and sitting down once again.   
  
"Let me tell you something about Girion, my noble ancestor," he said, calmer now and ignoring the murderous looks the elf shot him while the younger human tried to get his erratic breathing under control. "He was not what he is now said to have been! Did you know that he had two sons? Probably not, since everyone was only ever interested in the safety and comfort of the older of the two. He was always the favourite; his father cared more for him than for his younger brother, he _loved _him more than his younger brother. When the dragon descended on the valley and Dale and her precious lord were destroyed, no-one cared for the younger of the two; all that mattered were that the heir and his mother got to safety."   
  
"That is not true," Legolas said slowly in an attempt to reason with this man that was doomed from the start. "I knew Lord Girion. You did not. He did love his sons, both of them."   
  
"Did you now?" Girion sneered. "The only reason my father named me after him was that I would never forget what he had done to my ancestor! He deprived him of his family inheritance, or he would have done it if the dragon had not forestalled him by destroying the city! No-one cared about the younger son then, and so he and some of the survivors left Wilderland instead of settling in Lake-town with the others. They journeyed for a long time until they found these mountains, the Ered Dhuir, and founded Baredlen, this city."   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the man in front of him. If what he said was true – and he was sure it was, for he saw much of Girion and even Bard in his face – then Girion's second son hadn't been killed as had been believed so many years. Girion – junior – was wrong. His ancestor had loved both his children; it had been only the younger son's imagination that had made him think that the king favoured his brother.   
  
Legolas had met him only once during a diplomatic trip to the then prospering city, and had disliked him from the very minute they had been introduced. Lord Girion's younger son had been pathologically jealous of his older brother, up to cataloguing every gift their father ever gave to his brother and comparing them to those he himself received.   
  
All that however, he thought darkly, was unimportant, since this man here obviously believed that what he had always been told was the truth. Dale had fallen almost exactly 184 years ago, and that was a long time for lies to grow until they resembled the truth more than what had really happened. It was time enough for an old grudge to grow into an all-encompassing, all-consuming need for vengeance, and Legolas understood with frightening clarity what it was this man was planning.   
  
"We have no quarrel with you or your people," the blond elf said slowly, unconsciously assuming the tone of voice he would use for talking to a frightened, skittish colt. "Let us go, now, and I will beg my king to consider this a ... concatenation of unfortunate circumstances."   
  
"Once again, very characteristic," Girion nodded, apparently having regained his icy, calm aloofness. "For how stupid do you take me? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you would simply ride back to that wood of yours and actually tell your king to forget about this episode? After you have seen my … allies out there, in front of the city gates? Only a fool would believe that, and I am no fool."   
  
"Is that so?" Legolas asked scornfully, ignoring the small voice in his head that screamed at him to stay silent and become part of the scenery. "You send your men to the woods of my king, disturb our borders, attack my patrol, kill one of my companions and ally yourself with the Easterlings, and you expect anyone not to believe you to be insane? If you are indeed one of Girion's descendants, you know that the Wood-elves are loyal friends but just as fierce enemies if we have to be! Do _you _expect King Thranduil to sit idly by while you attack his allies and bring war upon Rhovanion? If that is so, then you are indeed the greatest fool I have ever seen in my whole life, and I have seen many of them!"   
  
Teonvan who seemed to be torn between fear and surprise that anyone would dare speak to his lord like this took a step closer to the elf and raised his arm to hit him, but Girion raised his hand and stopped him in his tracks.   
"No, Master Elf, I do not expect you or your king to believe any of this, and that is why you're here."   
  
Legolas' eyes narrowed and he gave Aragorn who had recovered his breath by now a small, worried glance. The dark-clad man leaned back into his chair and gave the two kneeling figures in front of him a content look.   
"I see you are beginning to understand," he nodded at the stony-faced elf in front of him. "I know that you elves are older than you looks, so you will know that what determines the outcome of a war is, in the end, not only the strategy, or the tactic, or the number of soldiers and how much money you have, but rather the amount of planning that precedes it. You can beat an army twice as large as yours if you surprise them and know the tactics they will employ to oppose you. Information can win a war."   
  
The fair haired elf's eyes narrowed even further until they were no more than two narrow, silver-blue slits.   
"Save your breath," he told the man in front of him, contempt on his face. "You will learn nothing from me."   
  
"A rash statement," the man shook his head seriously. "I expected nothing less, of course, at the beginning, that is. You will tell me everything I want to know about Mirkwood, her defences and tactics – sooner or later."   
  
"I will never betray my people or my king," Legolas shook his head in a gesture that was both calm and very determined.   
  
"As I said: A rash statement," Girion repeated, appearing just as determined. "I will not go looking for trouble with your king, elf; you do not concern me. For all I care you can live forever in that forest of yours, as long as you _stay _there. Everything east of Mirkwood is mine; it should have been mine and my family's for the past 180 years! I am taking back what is mine, and you and your king are not going to stop me!"   
  
"Wilderland is not yours," Legolas told the man in a cold, contemptuous whisper. "Lake-town is not yours. Erebor is not yours. Dale is not yours. _Nothing _north of this place is yours. And nothing north of this place will ever _be_ yours, not while one of my people still draws breath."   
  
"Then," the man leaned forward, eyes cold and afire with a strange, almost insane glow, "that will have to be changed, won't it?"   
  
He nodded at the guards holding the prisoners on their knees who promptly pulled the two of them upright, still grasping them tightly by their bound arms.   
"You have seen my allies – they are getting restless," he told the elf and ranger in front of him. "Still, I'll give you till tomorrow to think about my words. After that we'll have to resort to less … _civilised _means of persuasion."   
  
Aragorn bit onto his lower lip to prevent from making a stupid comment that would not be conducive to their situation, but Legolas was apparently not of the opinion that discretion was the better part of valour. The elf was really getting into the whole insulting-their-obviously-insane-captor-even-in-the-face-of-death-and-torture-thing, the young ranger decided as he watched Legolas raise his head and square his shoulders in a gesture oddly like his golden haired father.   
  
"This city is as far from civilised as possible," the elven prince told the dark haired man with the arrogant contempt that only long practise could bring. "You are nothing but a descendant of a disgruntled, envious younger son who could never accept that his brother was worthier than he! King Thranduil, King Bard and even the Dwarf King of Erebor will continue to rule long after your army has scattered in the winds and your realm has crumbled into dust."   


  
Once again the mention of King Bard's name was enough to provoke a reaction, and Girion was standing in front of the bound elf in a second, hands twitching in agitation.   
"We will see about that," he hissed at the fair being that was far from impressed. "We will see about that when you end your life in my dungeons, begging me for death."   
  
The elf did not reply, but his eyes grew even colder, if such a thing was even possible. For another long moment the human lord continued staring at the other, but then he averted his eyes and gave Cendan a quick nod.   
"Get them out of my sight."   
  
The dark haired man bowed his head and was about to motion to the guards to take the prisoners away, when Teonvan's voice interrupted the icy silence, sounding both anxious and full of suppressed anticipation.   
"What about the ranger, my lord? Do you need him or is he to be … disposed of?"   
  
Legolas felt his heart freeze in his chest but did not dare raise his head to look at his friend. That was the question he had been dreading the whole time; what if this man said Yes? What if he ordered Teonvan to kill Aragorn, what if…   
  
The dark-clad man seemed to ponder his captain's question for a moment, but then he slowly shook his head, a calculating sparkle in his eyes.   
"No, don't kill him. I have the feeling that he might prove useful later on – as a kind of encouragement, yes?"   
  
Legolas sensed more than saw Aragorn stiffen next to him, and as the guards grabbed his arms and dragged him out of the dark room into the direction of the dungeons, he thought to himself for the first time how much easier everything would have been for everyone had he just died with Galalith.   


  
  
Several minutes later, the heavy, iron-mounted doors of their cell swung closed behind them, producing a sound as foreboding and ominous as everything seemed to be in this place. Legolas remained where the guards had pushed him, namely leaning against one of the rough, damp walls, and took a close look at their surroundings.   
  
There wasn't much to look at, he concluded quickly. The room – their cell – was barely more than six square feet big, with only one large, thick wooden door and no windows. The walls were of a slightly darker, very solid-looking stone and so thick that Legolas could hear little of what went on outside the room. There was not a single light source, and it took even the fair haired elf some moments until his eyes had adjusted enough to see that the only piece of furniture was a wobbly cot that looked old enough to date back to this city's foundation.   
  
Legolas took a deep breath and slowly turned fully around, just in time to see Aragorn flop down onto the cot he had just run into in the near darkness of the room, moving slightly stiffly and awkwardly due to the fact that his hands were still bound behind his back. The elf was studying the young human's tired, pained face and was just thinking about what he could possible say to his friend when Aragorn did the very last thing he had expected him to: He started to laugh.   
  
For a moment, Legolas was too stunned to react, but then he carefully leaned back against the wall, actually enjoying the cold that soothed the pain that had developed in his bound arms.   
"Would you kindly inform me of what is so very funny about all this? As far as I'm concerned, being captured by a madman bent on destroying all of Rhovanion is neither amusing nor enjoyable!"   
  
"No," Aragorn gasped between fits of laughter, "No, of course not! I – I don't think it's funny!"   
  
Legolas arched an eyebrow, mentally debating if Aragorn was on the way of losing his mind.   
"Then what is?"   
  
Aragorn finally regained control of himself, still gasping for breath and chuckling softly.   
"You!" he finally replied, staring into the general direction of the elf he could still not see clearly. "You are! What was it you said, 'you must cease your foolish attempts to draw attention to yourself'? _I_? Draw attention to myself? Ha! Valar, the next time you say something like that I am going to laugh in your face!"   
  
"You already are," Legolas grumbled under his breath.   
  
"Of course I am!" Aragorn exclaimed, all mirth suddenly gone from his face. "What in the name of all the Valar were you thinking? You insulted this insane lord! You insulted him, his realm and his ancestors! Have you taken complete leave of your senses??"   
  
"Maybe," the elf admitted testily. "Maybe I have, but he was wrong! I knew Girion; I met him when my father sent me to Dale with a delegation to…"   
  
Before Legolas could finish the sentence, Aragorn had begun to shake his head, grey eyes darting to the heavy door.   
  
_"Queta Quenya lambë," _he told the elf quickly. _"Úmelvë ista man lastëa."_   
  
Legolas frowned, but immediately understood what the man was hinting at. He switched to the High Elven Tongue that was not commonly spoken anymore on Arda.   
"I do not hear anyone outside the door," he told Aragorn in the same language. "And even if there is anyone there, I doubt he would understand us if we were to speak in Sindarin."   
  
"I think you are right," Aragorn nodded while Legolas walked stiffly over to the cot to sit beside him, "But I would rather not take the risk. I don't know if that Girion understands Quenya, but I suspect it's rather unlikely."   
  
"He barely speaks Sindarin," Legolas shook his head somewhat contemptuously. "The ruling family of Dale always set value on a traditional education. The sons of the kings always learned Sindarin, but only to be able to converse with the Wood-elves in our language – as an advantage during negotiations, you could say. They were never taught the old tongue."   
  
"Let's hope so," the man said quietly. "Otherwise we might have a whole set of new problems atop the old ones – and those are enough if you ask me."   
  
"You could say that," Legolas agreed and leaned back, ignoring the soft creaking noise the wooden cot made when one of them shifted ever so slightly. "We have to escape this cell, get out of these dungeons, make it into the courtyard, get two horses, escape the city, avoid being cut to pieces by about eight thousand Easterlings and reach Mirkwood in time to warn my father of what promises to become the largest invasion of more than half a millennium."   
  
"Don't forget the fire-breathing dragon," Aragorn advised him wryly.   
  
"Of course," Legolas nodded. "Let's not forget the dragon."   
  
An uneasy silence fell over the small space while both of them tried to listen to anything that might indicate what was going on outside the thick walls.   
  
"Promise me one thing, my friend," Aragorn demanded suddenly, his eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room.   
  
"What, Estel?" the elf asked cautiously.   
  
"Don't tell them anything. No matter what."   
  
"I am not planning to, Strider," Legolas said evasively, trying not to think of the look on Girion's face when he had referred to his human friend as a means to "encourage" him.   
  
"Laiqualassë," Aragorn stressed his friend's Quenya name and looked into the shadowy oval he knew to be the elf's face, "Promise me. I would not want to live with the knowledge that I am responsible for the fall of Mirkwood. Don't tell them what they want to hear."   
  
"Estel…"   
  
"No!" Aragorn shook his head in sudden agitation, a hard, determined expression in his eyes. "You are a prince! You have a duty to your people, to your realm and your father! Royalty has not the privilege to choose its destiny, that is something we both know, do we not? You are honour bound to choose your duty above your personal feelings, and you would dishonour both your house and mine were you to comply!"   
  
"This is about honour and duty, human?" Legolas hissed back. "Well, in that case, do not tell me about my duties to the kingdom! I have had duties and obligations since reaching my majority, long before your forefathers even lost their kingdoms! I would _never _betray my father or our people! And still, what honour could I claim for myself if I allowed my best friend to be killed for a cause that isn't even his?"   
  
"Those are the burdens of your position, my friend," Aragorn said a little bit more gently now. "Yet your personal honour does not matter here, and neither does my life. All that matters is that these people don't learn what they want to know. And tell me one thing: What honour could _I _claim for myself were I responsible for the destruction of the largest of the elven realms here on Arda? This _is _my cause, elf. I greatly respect your father, and your people. I would rather die than live knowing that I am responsible for causing them harm."   
  
"You have much to live for, Telcontar," Legolas used the Quenya equivalent of his friend's nickname with an affectionate sparkle in his eyes that the human could not see. "You are so young yet. There is much you must still see and do. You are too young to die."   
  
Under any other circumstances Aragorn would at least have glared daggers at his elven friend for calling him young, but the dark, sad undertone in Legolas' voice had not been lost on him. He sat up straighter, trying to peer into the elf's face and cursing the darkness once more for hiding his friend's features.   
"So are you, my friend. It is too early to despair."   
  
"Is it?" Legolas laughed hollowly. "Fire-breathing dragons or not, we are not getting out of this one, Estel. We are in over our heads."   
  
"Do not talk like this," the man admonished his friend. "Not even Smaug himself could keep me here! I absolutely refuse to die here without having told my brothers or Celylith about your adorable new name." He narrowed his eyes at the other, trying to pierce the still lingering darkness. "This is not like you, my friend."   
  
"I am not myself," Legolas said softly, casting his eyes to the floor.   
  
"What is it?" Aragorn asked concernedly. "Please, Legolas, tell me."   
  
A moment later, the elf raised his head, his eyes so large in his face that even Aragorn could see them more than clearly.   
"It is dark, Estel, that is what it is."   
  
Aragorn did not answer, knowing that it was not only the darkness in this cell that his friend was referring to. Legolas fell silent again for a moment, but then he continued, the beautiful Quenya sounding hopeless and hollow in the inky blackness that surrounded them.   
  
"I do not know if you can feel it, but this land is … evil. I have known it for days now, and the feeling has become stronger the closer we have drawn to the city. Baredlen was founded in anger and hatred, and has been ruled by fear and terror, and the lands reek of it. The trees whisper it with the winds, the earth murmurs it in the evenings and the water mourns the deaths of hundreds of innocent people. This whole place is evil, it is malicious, and it is dark, and the most evil, malicious and darkest place is that room where Girion's descendant sits and plots his war that is meant to free him of a sense of inferiority that nothing could erase, not even were he to achieve all he dreams of. All he will obtain is a feeling of emptiness and betrayal when he realises that, a realisation that will have been bought with thousands of lives."   
  
The elven prince paused for a moment and laughed shortly, a soft, bitter sound that was swallowed by the heavy, dark air immediately.   
  
"And here I sit, in the dark, in a cell, and can do nothing to change that. One of my men has already died, one is probably on his way to the Halls of Mandos, my best friend will die to make me betray my people and my king, and in the end I will die as well. In the darkness, far away from the trees of my home, and my father will never know what happened to me."   
  
Legolas fell silent, leaving Aragorn at a profound loss what to say. There were several possible answers blossoming in his mind, and so the man finally said the first thing he could think of.   
"You will not die. I will not die. You will get back to Mirkwood and see your father again, and all this will seem like nothing but a dark dream."   
  
"Aye," the prince nodded bitterly. "A dark dream. A dream I will not wake up from."   
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn called, and had he had his hands free, he would at least have shaken his friend, if not even hit him in an attempt to snap him out of the dark despair the elf was sliding into. "Listen to yourself! You speak as if we are already dead! We are not! You are right, we are in a bad situation, and I am even objective enough to realise that it is probably the worst situation we have ever been in, but we still live! As long as we live, there is a chance to escape, and we _will _escape, or stay alive as long as it takes my brothers to reach us – and they will reach us." He looked at the fair haired elf, grey eyes locking with blue ones. "They _will _reach us, and if they have any sense at all, they will not be alone. Trust them, Legolas, and if you cannot, then trust me."   
  
The elf briefly closed his eyes and shook his head forcefully from side to side, as if trying not to take notice of his surroundings.   
"It is too dark, Strider," he whispered softly. "Look at this room; it is dark, just like the rest of this castle, of this city, of these lands. It is choking me, robbing me of life and light and hope, of my memories of things beyond this cell and these dungeons. It is a blackness that lays itself over my senses, and I don't know how long I will be able to fight it."   
  
"As long as necessary, my friend," Aragorn told the elf firmly, trying to look into his eyes. "Do not lose hope now. You are not alone. We can fight this darkness together and escape this place. You must believe in this."  
  
"I try to," Legolas replied quietly. "I try to, but how can I believe in anything but death and despair here? There is nothing but darkness."  
  
"Darkness is only the temporary absence of light," the young man said seriously. "No darkness can last forever, and certainly not this one."   
  
"You speak wisely, young one," the elven prince nodded his head, and, for the second time in an hour, Aragorn did not protest against the loathed, naturally thoroughly inappropriate term.   
  
"Those are not my words," Aragorn confessed with a small smile, still eyeing the elf rather warily who was sitting next to him "They are my father's, who is counted among the Wise for a reason." His smile widened, and a look of home-sickness spread over the young ranger's face. "In fact, they remind me of something he told me not so long ago, just before he travelled back home last year."   
  
"What did he tell you, Estel?" Legolas asked softly, watching the young man smile wistfully at the mention of his home.   
  
Aragorn gave a mental sigh of relief when he saw that Legolas' dark, frightening mood seemed to have abated, at least for the time being.   
"'Only when it is dark enough you can hope to see the stars.'"   
  
The elven prince nodded slightly and lowered his head in thought. He waited for about as long as it would take Aragorn to get worried before he raised it again, his face carefully expressionless and his voice only half joking.   
"There are no stars here."   
  
For a moment, the man was rendered speechless while he was trying to decide if Legolas was being serious, which he was not, he concluded quickly. There was a faint, but still visible mischievous sparkle in the other's silver-blue eyes that was definitely a lot better than the look of despair and desolation he had seen there earlier.   
  
He knew that Legolas had meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, and still he looked at his elven friend seriously, in a way that reminded the elf greatly of the other's foster father.   
"You must simply look hard enough for them, my friend. No matter how dark, you can always see the stars if you only try hard enough to find them."   
  
For a long time, neither of the two said a word, and it must already have been late evening outside their small, dark prison when Legolas finally spoke up again after having made sure that Aragorn was in fact still awake and not asleep as he had thought him to be several times in the past hours.   
  
"Your father is a very wise elf; did you know that, Estel?"   
  
Even though he could not completely see it, Legolas could hear the smile in the man's voice.   
  
"Yes, my friend, I did know that," Aragorn replied softly. "And I have thanked the Valar for it more times than I can count."   
  
"As have I," Legolas nodded in the darkness. "I don't even dare to think about what you would be like had you not grown up in the House of Elrond. Even more reckless, I'd say."   
  
"Are you sure that's possible?" Aragorn asked wryly.   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head. "But I thank Ilúvatar I don't have to find out."   
  
"Me too, my friend," the man agreed. "Me too."   
  
The both of them exchanged a small, wry smile, and for a long time it remained silent in the little cell, even when the sun rose above the dark mountains close to the city, bathing the lands in a soft golden light that did not reach the two friends deep underground.   


  
  
It was almost a day later, when the sun was once again sinking beneath the horizon after her journey across the heavens, that the door of the small cell opened again with an eerie, creaking sound that grated on Legolas' sensitive ears.   
  
While the door swung open, Legolas decided that he took everything back he had told Aragorn earlier. About two hours ago he had complained to the man that he would be happy for anything that interrupted the monotony that had lingered heavily in the room, including the fire-breathing dragon that still had to be here somewhere, but now he took it back. He might be close to going insane after spending a day in a small, pitch-black, damp closet-like cell, but now that he thought about it, it wasn't all that bad. He would gladly stay here for the rest of the day, and he did not wish for any additional company.   
  
Next to him, Aragorn was entertaining much the same thoughts. It had actually been him who had started complaining much earlier today, namely about the fact that their captors seemed to think food not a necessity. It had quickly got out of hand, and about noon they had started enumerating all their cell's shortcomings, having quickly agreed on the fact that it possessed not even one virtue they could think of.   
  
Both of them had stopped about two hours later, but had kept talking about anything that came to their minds to keep their thoughts off their situation and, most importantly, off the darkness that seemed to have even grown these past hours, if such a thing was even possible. At the beginning, he'd had less trouble coping with the blackness than Legolas, but the longer the shadows preyed on his mind the more memories seemed to rise to the front of his mind, threatening to pull him down into even greater darkness.   
  
The past few hours he'd had great trouble keeping his thoughts on the present, and more than once he had been convinced that the dark walls were beginning to close in on him as they had seemed to do in the small cave where Legolas had found him in Eskadol when he had been captured by Donyc and his men. This cell was downright spacious in comparison to that cave, but ever since then he had been anything but comfortable in small, enclosed spaces. It had got better in the past months, but he was still having a hard time keeping his breathing even and steady and not to start trembling. He had tried to hide this fear from Legolas, who had already more than enough trouble not losing his own composure. It wouldn't help the elf at all if he knew that he was very close to losing his self-restraint.   
  
The door swung open wider, and the bright light that poured into the cell brought both man and elf out of their thoughts and blinded them temporarily. Legolas' eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness more quickly than the ranger's, and he slowly got up from the cot and stood to his feet, pulling his human friend with him. A few moments later Aragorn's vision cleared as well, and he unconsciously straightened his back when he looked at the men standing in the entrance of the small room.   
  
At the very front stood Girion, of course, wearing once again his emotionless expression. Behind him were at least ten guards, most of them with loaded crossbows that were pointed at the two of them and all looking alert and ready to pull back their lord and kill them should they see any reason to do so.   
  
For a few moments, the two groups simply stared at each other, and the contrast between them could not have been starker. Girion looked the two prisoners over, feeling suddenly rather glad he had brought so many guards with him. If looks had the ability to kill, he and two-thirds of his men would have dropped dead here and now.   
  
Still, what he had heard about the Elves seemed to be true: They didn't react well to darkness. The fair haired elf's face was still proud and determined, but he was paler than yesterday and his eyes looked darker, somewhat haunted. The ranger didn't seem very well either, with dark circles under his defiant grey eyes that seemed to be drawn to the light that flooded the small, square cell. He smiled to himself. The darkness had apparently not broken the two of them, but the haughty arrogance the prisoners had worn like a cloak had somewhat diminished.   
  
"I keep my word," he finally broke the hostile silence. "I promised you time to think about my words, and you've had it. What is your answer, Master Elf?"   


"You already have my answer," Legolas retorted, resisting the urge to step in front of his human friend to shield him from view. "I will not help you plunge all of Rhovanion into war because of a baseless grudge your family has been nursing without the slightest reason for centuries! Go find your information somewhere else. I will not tell you anything."   
  
The dark haired man seemed not at all bothered by the elf's determined, soft words, for he only pursed his lips slightly and nodded his head.   
"I had expected you to say something like this, elf. Have it your way; the results will be the same."   
  
He took a step back and nodded at his guards, and a second later four men stepped forward into the cell, nearly filling up all the space there still was inside the tiny room. Legolas gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders, but was unpleasantly surprised when the guards merely shoved him backwards, sending him crashing into the wall with enough force to almost throw him to the ground. Having pushed the elf out of the way, the men grabbed the ranger who was trying to get over to his friend's side and began to drag him out of the room. Bound as he was, Aragorn couldn't put up much of a fight, and so he was quickly manhandled out of the cell.   
  
For a moment, Legolas couldn't breathe because of the pain that had once again exploded in his side, but the panic that was beginning to fill his entire heart gave him enough strength to speak.   
"Wait! You don't need him! He is not one of my people, he knows nothing!"   
  
For the smug expression alone that spread now on the dark haired lord's face Legolas would have killed him with the greatest of pleasure.   
"Oh, but I don't agree," the man told the elf who was leaning against the wall, his face a sickly grey colour. "I know that your kind does not easily associate with outsiders. If he's followed you all that way to save you, he's indeed your friend, and in that case he knows at least some of what I want to know. Not as much as a captain like you would know, maybe, but…"   
  
"You lie!" the elf spat, taking a step forward but freezing when half a dozen crossbows were aimed at his chest. "You know he cannot tell you what you want to hear!"   
  
"Maybe," Girion shrugged. "But I still believe all you need is a little encouragement." He smiled darkly, turning a little to the side to look at the slightly wide-eyed ranger. "And Captain Teonvan is more than willing to provide you with it, he's assured me." The smile grew even darker as he turned back to the elf on whose face shock and rage seemed to war with each other. "The Firstborn are keen-eared, correct? Trust me, in two hours' time you will have all the encouragement you'll ever need."   
  
He nodded at the guards again who swung the door shut, cutting off the elf's desperate voice. Girion turned to one of the men, eyeing him sharply.   
"Captain Teonvan is waiting for him. Give the elf two hours and take him over to Glamir after that. He's been asking for a new assignment for days, it's time he is provided with one."   
  
The guard nodded and turned to the rest of his men, motioning them to take the ranger away, but Aragorn refused to move, staring hard at the dark haired man with the empty, cold eyes who was just turning back to walk down the corridor into the direction of the stairs that would take him back to the ground level.   
  
"He won't tell you anything," he said, quiet conviction colouring his words. "No matter what you do to him, or to me, he will never betray his king. You are wasting your time."   
  
Girion stopped and turned around, looking at the younger man who was staring at him with eyes that were full of anger and hatred, but totally devoid of fear.   
"I beg to differ," he told him friendly. "I am not wasting my time. Even if he doesn't tell me what I want to know, I will have done two of my captains a favour. No matter what happens, I will see you and the elf die in my dungeons, begging me to end your suffering. How could that be wasted time?"   
  
Without another word the man turned around and left, accompanied by his personal bodyguards, and that was the moment Aragorn decided that this man was completely, utterly mad. He wasn't insane in the sense that he didn't know what he was doing, but he was mad with anger and hatred and without the tiniest spark of morality and mercy. He was quickly torn out of his thoughts when the three remaining guards grabbed his bound arms and began to drag him down the corridors, taking so many turns that Aragorn quickly lost count.   
  
In the end, they stopped in front of a large, wooden door that looked disconcertingly like the door leading to the cell he and Legolas had occupied, but Aragorn had the feeling that they were in fact not that far away from where his elven friend was – probably indeed close enough so that the elf would be able to hear him if he screamed loud enou…   
  
Aragorn's mind shied away from these thoughts, and a second later the door was opened from the inside and he was shoved into a rather large room that was lit by several torches on the walls. In the middle of the roughly circular space dangled two long, rusty manacles from the ceiling, long enough to allow a man to stand – barely. On the one side of the room was a long, wooden table on whose surface lay several instruments whose function he did not know, but which was not too hard to guess now that he thought about it. The wooden surface looked worn and was spotted with quite a large amount of a dark brown liquid. What that liquid was he didn't even have to think about.   
  
All in all, the young man concluded wryly as he was pushed forward, unsurprisingly into the direction of the chains, this was the stereotypical torture chamber. All that was missing now was a slimy, maliciously smiling torturer with a hood over his head who was rubbing his hands together in glee and telling him that he would enjoy breaking him and…   
  
"So, ranger, we meet again. I hope you're as pleased to see me as I am to see you."   
  
Aragorn briefly closed his eyes and gritted his teeth when Teonvan's voice cut through the eerie silence of the room, sounding so pleased that it was almost unnatural. Why had he thought something as stupid as that!? If he had learned one thing in the past, it was never to think anything beginning with "All that is missing now is…".   
  
He did not answer though as he tried to keep his mounting fear and panic under control while the guards pushed him forward, pulled him to a stop, cut his bonds and forced his wrists into the chains hanging from the ceiling. All this happened so quickly and with such a practiced efficiency that it caused a cold shiver of dread to run down Aragorn's spine.   
  
After the guards had made sure that the prisoner was secured tightly, they bowed slightly to someone standing at Aragorn's back and withdrew, and the door closed with a thoroughly ominous bang. For a few moments, the room was completely silent, and Aragorn stubbornly refused to look anywhere but straight ahead. The last thing he would do was to voluntarily show nervousness, fear or any other emotion in front of Teonvan.   
  
Patience, however, did not seem to be Teonvan's strong point, and so Aragorn soon heard heavy footsteps behind him, and a moment later Teonvan stepped in front of him, looking about as smug as a wolf that had just cornered a fawn.   
"Well … Strider," the brown haired man grinned. "I assume you know why you're here?"   
  
"Uhm," Aragorn frowned as in deep thought, "Well, it's either because your lord is insane or because you are a sick coward. I'm just not sure."   
  
Being back home had apparently not increased the other man's self-restraint, and so the young ranger's head was whipped to the side when Teonvan's fist connected with the side of his face. It took Aragorn only a few moments to straighten up again, and he locked eyes with the other man, mocking surprise and contempt on his face.   
  
"What? You are doing the dirty work yourself?" he asked tauntingly, "Where are Caellan and Lybran?"   
  
"This is no dirty work, boy," Teonvan grinned at him. "This is my reward for capturing the elf."   
  
"Your reward for capturing … Lasseg?" Aragorn asked incredulously, remembering just in time to use Legolas' nickname. "You? You couldn't have captured him had he been tied to a tree! Reran captured him!"   
  
That earned him another blow to the face, but Aragorn did not regret his words. He did not know what Teonvan was planning to do with him, but he did know that nothing he could say now would change anything anymore. Then again, a small voice told him teasingly, it just might get a whole lot worse.   
  
"You are just like him," Teonvan told him when he had raised his head again. "Just as proud, just as arrogant, just as cheeky. But you know what? I changed all that that afternoon, even if only for a short while. Had I had more time, I would have broken him, but I knew I couldn't do that; I had my orders, after all. You, however, I must not keep alive."   
  
"You lie," Aragorn told the other man after a moment, fervently hoping that he was correct. "You are not allowed to kill me yet."   
  
Barely hidden anger flashed in Teonvan's eyes, and Aragorn grinned openly. So it was as he had thought and hoped, Girion didn't want to risk killing him just yet. This was only to pacify Teonvan and to "encourage" Legolas, they would not let him die yet. Looking into Teonvan's dark, malicious eyes, Aragorn asked himself if that was really such a good thing.   
  
"You are clever, boy," Teonvan told him, walking over to the table. "That's the thing that got you into trouble in the first place."   
  
"Like Reran?" Aragorn shot back, eyeing the man closely. "Did you kill him because of that? Because he saw through you and wanted to accuse you in front of your lord?"   
  
Teonvan seemed to freeze and slowly turned back to his prisoner who was doing his best to stand on his toes to take some strain off his arms.   
"You should be careful with what you say, ranger," he advised him, walking back to stand in front of the younger man. "Someone might take such accusations seriously one day."   
  
"I accuse no-one," Aragorn retorted. "It is the truth. You killed your own captain. You are not only a coward, you are a traitor."   
  
This time, it took the ranger a lot longer to raise his head again, and he needed to shake it from side to side until the ringing in his ears had subsided enough for him to take notice of his surroundings again. Teonvan watched with fascination as the stubborn glint that had wavered for a few seconds returned to the dark haired man's eyes, now burning even stronger than before.   
  
"Treason, boy," he began languidly, "is in the eye of the beholder. Reran was weak and careless. It I hadn't killed him, someone else would have, sooner or later. All these ideas about loyalty and honour clouded his mind. I actually did our lord a favour."   
  
"You did yourself a favour, no-one else," Aragorn shook his head contemptuously.   
  
"Yes," Teonvan nodded thoughtfully, turning back around and walking back to the table, "I think you are right, I did. If not for the dear captain's little … 'accident', we wouldn't be here, or, you wouldn't be here because he would have killed you. You should be grateful."   
  
"To you?"   
  
It were only two words, but in them the young ranger managed to convey surprise, sarcasm, disbelief and such a profound contempt that it caused Teonvan to grip the tool he had just picked up so tightly that his knuckles showed white through the skin. A moment later he turned, the old, complacent smile once again firmly attached to his sallow, sunken features.   
  
"Do you know what this is?" he asked brightly, holding up the small, dully gleaming object. The ranger refused to look into his direction, however, and so he stepped back to where the other was chained upright and roughly grasped his chin, forcing him to look at the tool he held up in front of his eyes. "Well?"   
  
Aragorn's eyes fixed on the small object in Teonvan's hand, and he was hard-pressed to keep the sudden surge of fear that twisted his insides off his face and out of his eyes. The grip the other man had on his bruised jaw grew more painful as he burrowed his fingers into the skin, and so he finally looked up to fix emotionless grey eyes on Teonvan.   
"No."   
  
The brown haired man released his prisoner's chin and took a step backward, beginning to languidly twist the tool between his fingers.   
"It's a very small, simple thing," he began to explain, an almost friendly expression on his yellowish face. He held up the object he held, a metal spike a little longer than a man's spread hand. "It's a spike."   
  
"You don't say," Aragorn commented wryly, resorting to his old, tested and not very successful plan of action when faced with a maniac who wanted nothing more than to torture you to death: Trying to make him angry. Afterwards he never knew why he had done something as stupid and suicidal as that, but at those times – this being no exception – it always seemed like a good idea.   
  
Teonvan, however, didn't pay him any attention and continued, his fingers beginning to twitch slightly with impatience or anticipation.   
"It's designed to penetrate almost everything effortlessly – including flesh and bones, of course," he added, an evil glint in his eyes. "The wonderful thing about it is that you can get much deeper than with a knife, and you have much better control over what you do. Knives are always so messy."   
  
'You would know,' Aragorn thought to himself, but didn't say it for once. He didn't like that glint in Teonvan's eyes, and if he wasn't very much mistaken, the man would soon…   
  
Yes. Do something just like that, he thought wryly as Teonvan reached for the knife at his belt and cut through the straps holding his now rather tattered cloak around his shoulders. A moment later the bright steel cut through the fabric of his shirt and it joined the cloak on the floor, leaving Aragorn cold and very angry. That had been his last shirt, the last shirt he had had from home. He had given his spare shirt to Legolas when he had found him in the camp since the elf's had been ruined beyond repair, and the only one he had left now was one that had been made for him in Mirkwood during the winter. Apart from the fact that it was in one of his bags that he would very likely never see again, it was of that abominable brown colour the Silvan Elves seemed to treasure so much. Aragorn shuddered inwardly, doing his best to think of anything but Teonvan who had once again begun one of his boring, smug monologues. That shirt was indeed horrible, and he'd only not burnt it when he had first laid eyes on it because he hadn't wanted to insult Legolas or his people…   
  
For a few seconds, the young man's way of distracting himself from what was going on around him worked quite well, but his musings of what he would say to the Mirkwood tailor should he ever get out of here were interrupted when something sharp and very pointy was placed against his left upper arm and was pushed forward, just enough to break the skin and tear him out of his thoughts.   
  
With an internal sigh he allowed his eyes to focus on Teonvan who was standing in front of him, his eyes so malicious and filled with dark anticipation that he would have shrunk back had the ability to do so. Aragorn waited for the brown haired man to speak or to gloat, but Teonvan did no such thing, much to the younger man's surprise.   
  
All the warning the ranger received was a small, almost benevolent smile before Teonvan's eyes shifted to the metal spike that was still pressed against Aragorn's flesh, and with a quick thrust of the man's hands it was driven deeply into the flesh of the young man's arm. In the split second of calm rationality before the pain washed over him, Aragorn had to admit grudgingly that, at least this one time, Teonvan had spoken the truth: The spike did bore into the flesh of his arm amazingly easily.   
  
A moment later, however, all thoughts about how amazing it was that Teonvan had spoken the truth for once vanished from his mind and were washed away with a wave of agony that swept up and down his arm, causing sweat to break out on his brow. His mind automatically searched for a reference or something to compare this to, but he just couldn't remember anything. He had been shot with arrows of almost all sizes before, at least it seemed to him that way, but arrows usually weren't at least an inch in diameter.   
  
Teonvan's face that was filled with the utmost concentration began to blur around the edges, something Aragorn welcomed even despite the pain that was beginning to rob him of his composure. Anything that enabled him to block out Teonvan was welcome. A few seconds later, he felt the tip of the spike penetrate the back of his arm, causing him to moan softly even despite his resolve not to give the other man the satisfaction of hearing him voice his pain.   
  
The brown haired man's eyes flickered from the spike that was deeply embedded in the other's arm to his face, and his concentrated countenance broke into a bright smile when he saw the pain on the younger man's face he was so desperately trying to conceal. The smile widening slightly, he grabbed the end of the spike that protruded from the ranger's arm and twisted the length of metal from side to side, causing the prisoner to bite down hard on his lower lip to stifle another moan. Not bad, Teonvan nodded to himself, twisting the spike once again and watching the grimace of pain that flickered over the ranger's face. This one wasn't quite as skilled at hiding his feelings as the elf, but more skilled than most men he'd seen until now – and he'd seen a lot. This, he thought gleefully, should get interesting…   
  
Teonvan took a step backwards to survey his handiwork and finally nodded approvingly. The ranger appeared to have trouble keeping his breathing under control, but otherwise he appeared relatively calm and composed, apart from the cold sweat on his brow and the white colour of his face. The younger man stared straight ahead, giving Teonvan a look of such furious contempt that the brown haired captain found it hard not to avert his eyes.   
  
"Interesting little things, aren't they?" he asked friendly. "But I have to apologise for scraping over the bone. I have used them only once before and am slightly out of practice."   
  
The reasonable voice in Aragorn's head screamed at him to stay silent and not say anything stupid, and, to the voice's profound surprise, he really did remain silent. It was mostly because he didn't trust himself to keep his voice steady and pain-free and because his thoughts were too jumbled by what was happening to come up with anything that wouldn't sound idiotic, but still, he did the reasonable thing and remained silent.   
  
Teonvan studied him for a moment longer before he turned around, back to the table, and Aragorn seized that opportunity to look at his left arm, something he had refused to do while the brown haired commander had been watching him. Well, he thought after a moment, he had seen far worse things than a spike sticking out of somebody's arm, and the sight wouldn't have bothered him overly much either, had it not been _his _arm it was sticking out of.   
  
Since it _was _his arm, however, the sight was none too pleasant indeed, Aragorn decided darkly as he narrowed his eyes at the metal spike that was now stained with quite a lot of blood. The tool's tip protruded from the back of his upper arm, about five or six inches from his shoulder that was by now covered in small rivulets of dark red blood that sneaked down his arm to run down his torso. The injured muscles tried to contract around the foreign body that had torn through skin, muscles and sinews, only adding to the pain that already burned brightly in the wound. And apart from that, Aragorn thought with a half-angry, half-annoyed frown, the constant strain on his arm that came from hanging from the ceiling by his wrists didn't help much either.   
  
Heavy footsteps drew his pain-dulled mind out of its musings and he slowly returned his attention to Teonvan who had walked back in front of him, holding a rather large, brown bottle in his left hand. Aragorn felt his mouth go dry. He didn't know what was in it, but very sure he didn't want to find out either.   
  
Without another word but with an exceptionally smug expression on his face Teonvan reached out with his right hand and grasped the spike, ignoring the way his prisoner's body tried to jerk away from the painful touch. The brown haired man tightened his hold on the metal tool that was slippery with blood and pulled the spike out of the ranger's shoulder in a single movement.   
  
Aragorn gritted his teeth so tightly that he was sure they would crumble into tiny little pieces, but he didn't cry out even though he couldn't stop his body from spasming with the sudden pain. A few moments later the greyness that had laid itself over his senses receded, giving him a clear view on Teonvan who was waiting patiently for him to regain control over his senses, which should have been a warning to him, really.   
  
"Is this it?" the young man finally ground out between his teeth, deciding that he had remained silent for far too long now. "Now I see why you need the help of those two idiots."   
  
"Oh, not at all," Teonvan grinned and stopped playing with the spike he had just removed from the ranger's shoulder. Letting the bloody piece of metal fall to the floor, he opened the bottle with a flick of his thumb and stepped closer. "We're just starting."   
  
Aragorn had just enough time to note that the liquid that poured out of the body was of a muddy brown colour before it made contact with the bleeding, raw wound the spike had left. In less than half a second the bottom of his world fell away and he was plunged into a black abyss of pain that was unrivalled by anything he had ever experienced – and that meant quite a lot in his opinion.   
  
He dimly noticed that his whole body trembled and tried pull away from what was causing it such agony, but that was entirely useless since the source of the pain was the wound itself which was filled with liquid fire that showed no signs of abating. It continued to burn deeper into the wound and spread into the rest of his body, and with every heartbeat pain of such intensity shot through him that he firmly believed that he would pass out.   
  
After an eternity or two, the agony slowly receded, and while Aragorn was still trying to find enough strength to raise his head, he noticed that there was a strange, ringing sound in his ears, and it took him quite a long time to realise that it were the lingering remnants of a scream. _His _scream. Hadn't his head been hanging forward already, he would have let it sink onto his chest on his own. He had sworn himself not to cry out loud enough for Legolas to hear him, and only ten minutes later what was he doing?   
  
He was still berating himself for his lack of self control and trying to convince his neck that it had lifted his head for years and that it wouldn't hurt it at all to do it once more when Teonvan solved that problem for him by tangling a hand in his hair and jerking his head up. The bottle was no longer in the other man's hands, but Aragorn had not nearly enough energy to look anywhere but straight ahead. For several moments, Teonvan merely looked at the younger man's glazed, pain-filled eyes until he reached out with his free hand and almost tenderly wiped away the thin trickle of blood that had run down from the other's bit lip. Aragorn did his best to suppress a shudder at the touch, but didn't have the strength to shy away.   
  
"It took the master torturer years to find the right mixture," Teonvan told the dark haired man, his hand still keeping his head upright. "But now it works quite well, doesn't it?" It soon became clear that the ranger had no intention of answering him, and so he continued, his dark eyes boring into Aragorn's grey ones. "You were right, you know. I am not allowed to kill you yet. I do have you for another three or four hours though, and all that is required is that you're still alive at the end." He let reluctantly go of the handful of dark hair he was grabbing and took a step backwards, the grin once again returning to his face. "And that is an awfully vague term, isn't it?"   
  
Teonvan walked back to the table and grabbed another dully gleaming spike, running his fingers over the smooth surface before he turned around, looking at the bound ranger who was hanging from his wrists a few feet away from him. He gave the brown bottle sitting next to the small pile of remaining spikes an almost fond look and began to stalk over to his captive, an expectant smile on his face.   
  
"So, ranger, I have always been adherent to symmetry. What about you?"  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_Nuitho lam lín, Estel (S.) - Hold your tongue, Estel  
Ú-'ado chin dîn, pedithon na chyn (S.) - Don't attract their attention, I will talk to them  
Queta Quenya lambë (Q.) - Speak Quenya  
Úmelvë ista man lastëa (Q.) - We do not know who is listening  
  
  
  
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**Yes, I admit that I made Girion's second son up. But this whole story was inspired by that one sentence in The Hobbit ... yes, here it is: _"...They wondered if they were still lying there unharmed in the hall below: (...) the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, _****_made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel." _****(Chapter 12, Inside Information)*****g* Well, you see, the word "eldest"suggests that Girion had other sons as well even though they were never mentioned in canon, so my mind simply started working and working and hasn't stopped until now. It's scary, I know.**  
  
**Other than that, I realise that this was an evil cliffy and that Teonvan is an even more evil** **person, as is my alter ego. *hits herself* I am trying to get rid of her, without much success, however. Okay, so, barring a natural disaster or another problem with FF.net, the next chapter should be here around Thursday and will contain more angst for everyone involved, we meet Glamir and the twins, Celylith** **and Glorfindel make an appearance.** **Great, huh? And yes, reviews are still greatly appreciated, as always. *g*  
  
  
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_**Additional A/N:  
  
Deana** - Well, I hope you didn't _really_ feel it. That would be disconcerting and rather scary. *g* Glad you liked it, thanks for the review!  
**Tychen** - Hmm, yes, it might. I am not yet completely sure about that, but it might. *g* And you are completely right: The odds are NOT in our heroes' favour here! But, as Han Solo once put it so eloquently: Never tell me the odds! *g* Uhm, Girion is a man and has therefore nothing to do with Thranduil personally, which is quite a good thing too since the king would kill him, but that's beside the point. *sheepish grin*  
**Carrie** - Uhm, yes. That was the last bit of the calm before the storm, at least I think so. And you know what: You are beginning to think just like me, which is, at least for you, a highly dangerous development. I suggest you go and find a capable psychiatrist as soon as possible. *g* Yeah, that bit with Legolas' cover: Believe it or not, it won't be blown so soon. There just is no way for anyone to recognise him, even though the evil lord will finally find out, but not for the next few chapters. Sorry. *g* I hope you got over your bad day - there are days so bed that you just want to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of the week, right? *g*  
**Nikara** - Yeah, you know the evil overlords - they always tell the heroes about their plans and then give them a chance to escape. In the words of the wonderfully evil Dr. Evil: "I'm going to leave them alone and not actually witness them dying. I'm just gonna assume it all went to plan" *sighs* Evil dudes ARE stupid, huh?   
**Firniswin** - I don't agree. It wasn't a major cliffy. It was quite a little one, and not even very evil. I agree with you about my alter ego though: She IS evil, even though I think I am beginning to like her no matter what. I know, I need help, don't tell me. *g* Teonvan is spelled, well, T - e - o - n - v - a - n? Quite simple really, once you've typed it a few dozen times. *g*   
**Mouse5** - Come on, you _know_ how I could do that to you! I am EVIL, remember!? I enjoy doing such things to people. I ENJOY it!!! Mhahahahaha! *runs off cackling evilly* I can assure you though that it's not my intention to give anyone a heart attack. I hope you are well, and every time you feel one creeping up, just repeat to yourself: "It's just fiction, it can't harm me, it's just fiction, it can't harm me." *shrugs* Almost never works, but what the heck. *evil grin*  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - *pats her back in sympathy* Poor you. I know how horible it is not to have internet access. It's like ... having an arm cut off, right? Or a part of your brain. *evil grin* Or both. And no, this evil lord won't discover Aragorn's identity. You must remember that most humans don't even know anything about Isildur, the ranger, old kings and all that, besides, he'll be more than busy finding out Legolas' identity. *g* And if you tell me what Lord Súliat's name means, you can have a cookie _and_ a copy of Teonvan's book _and_ your Nólad clone! *g* Deal?  
**Someone Reading** - *blushes* Well, thank you! I am very glad to hear that you are enjoying this bit of mindless insanity thus far! I regret having to kill Reran too, but otherwise Cendan would never have got really angry with Teonvan, and that will still be very important. There was nothing I could do. *g* Oh, and I hate to be nitpicking, but about that one Sindarin sentence you used: 'Naur dan i gwath' - that should be 'Naur dan i 'wath'. The singular article 'i' triggers lenition, therefore turning "i gw..." to "i 'w". In Gandalf's sentence "Naur dan i ngaurhoth" you see the same, even though one would usually expect a lenition to "... 'aurhoth". It's changed to 'ngaurhoth' because the primitive stem of the word was a ng-stem, which means it changes back, representing 'i ñaurhoth'_. _*stops and blinks* Jeez, I'm a freak, aren't I? Sorry. *g* And thanks a lot for the reviews!  
**Zam** - *watches as Zam blows herself up* Yes!!! Finally!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you! There IS a God after all! *finally notices Zam's not dead* Hey! Nice to see you! I am SO glad you didn't hurt yourself - too much... *g* J/K, DO be careful with these staffs. Your guess about men colonising the area is very good. You get another cookie! *snickers* So Celylith is getting jealous, huh? Better be careful, he just might kill Cendan! You never know what a jealous Silvan elf might do! *g* Once again cograts for figuring out Girion's identity! And I honestly hope that the student shall never surpass the master! *shudders* No, everything but that...  
**Miaow Artsy** - Well, thank you! It's great that you like this story, and I take it as a huge compliment that you read this even though you don't usually read WIP's. Hmm, right now I can't think of anyone Cendan could remind you of. I mean, I didn't write him with someone in mind, but I guess there are always people you base your OCs on, even if you do it unconsciously. *shrugs* Tell me once you remember, okay? LOL, yes, it would indeed be a clever trap! And I could give you a clone of any character you would like, either now once you tell me what Súliat's name means or at the end of this story. Okay? *g* Thanks for the link, but the problem is that I don't know all these series the fanfic is based on. So I could read as many stories I would like and still wouldn't understand a thing. *sheepish smile*  
**Cosmic Castaway** - Oh, it's great you appreaciate being killed. Most people are awfully testy about it - glad to see you're different! *g* No, j/k, I'm glad that you like it, but I really hope I did not cause any lasting damage. I would hate to harm my reviewers. *g* Oh, and you DID review twice. I am not complaining, of course, but I have to come to FF.net's defence for once. Once. *g*  
**Starlight** - *g* Ja, genau den hab' ich gemeint, den guten altern Girion. Gut gemacht! *ueberreicht wunderschoenen Keks* Viel Spass damit! Ich sehe schon, dass meine Tips nicht ganz so eindeutig waren, wie ich dachte - du hast recht, natuerlich kann kein Mensch so alt werden, abgesehen davon sollte Girion schon seit 184 Jahren tot sein. Aber keine Angst, der Fiesling erklaert alles in diesem Kapitel, wie Fieslinge das eben gern tun. *g* Und du hast natuerlich wieder recht, es kommt so ziemlich so, wie du dachtest. *schluchz* Armer Legolas, armer Aragorn. *g* Sorry wegen der Zwillinge, aber ich hab' einfach nicht genug Platz fuer alle. *g*  
**Sirihiliel** - Well, yeah, at least the thing with the motif should become clear. I hope the rest too, but you never know. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Aromene** - *g* Yes indeed, the scale must be balanced. We can't have it that Legolas is injured and our dear friend Aragorn is not, now can we? I try to keep everything nice and fair. *g* But "Poor Estel" about sums it up.  
**Orlandofan13** - They would have, wouldn't they? I mean, how hard can it be to slay a dragon? Bard did it, so Legolas wouldn't have any trouble doing it either - one would think so at least. Considering his luck, he would probably get burnt to a crisp. *g* Stupid wood-elf.  
**Elenillor** - LOL, I like Dr. Evil. We have a few of them ourselves. They are indeed evil, and some of them are downright scary. And I realise that you're not complaining, I think I am complaining to myself. I hate it when I can't control the plot - and it seems that I can't right now. *grrr* Stupid elf and ranger. I'm glad you like our sarcastic ranger. I love sarcasm, it's what makes life wonderful. *g*  
**Jenihenpen** - Nope, it hasn't. It tells me to do the one thing and I do the other. *shakes fist* You shall not control me!!! Hmm, everything is black and depressing and scary? Well, I guess you could say that - it's not the most cheerful town in history, I'll give you that... And would you care to define "in one piece"? *g*  
**Alilacia** - Thanks a lot, I will need all the luck I can get. The papers aren't about anything I'm really interested in, so I'll have to manage somehow. *grimaces* Hmm, grey and black livery = Wormtongue? I have to admit I never made that connection. *g* No, this isn't Mordor, and it isn't Dol Guldur either. And I like the stinking creatures. You are right of course. They must probably stink by now. But we won't tell them, will we? *places finger on lips* No, preciousss, we won't. *g*  
**Shauna** - *raises eyebrow* The "beetroot-forgot-the-word award"? Why, I am honoured! Thank you! *g* And don't we all want to know what Legolas knows? Well, to be honest, I don't really, but you known I mean. *g* Thanks a lot for the review, and it's very nice to hear that you liked it so far!   
**Stacee Phelps** - Hmm, you could do both. You could hate me _and_ bow at my feet, only if you want to, of course. I apologise for the cliffy, but I couldn't stop myself. *evil grin* Sorry about not updating sooner, it wasn't my fault this time, at least I think so. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Isadora2** - Na, wen haben wir denn da? Wenn das nicht Isadora ist, die mir in der Tat noch 30 Gazillionen Reviews schuldet! *g* Schoen, dich zu sehen, und mach dir keinen Kopf wegen der anderen Reviews. Ich bin bereit, die zu vergessen. *g* Ich muss auch zugeben, dass die Abkuerzungen ein wenig komisch klingen, aber das waren diese englischsprachigen Leute. Ich glaube, die sterben, wenn sie nicht was abkuerzen duerfen... *g* Und ... *schuettelt Kopf* ... ich muss sagen, dass du absolut ... daneben liegst. *g* Sorry. Ich weiss, dass der Titel so was vermuten laesst, und du bist nicht die erste, die auf solche Ideen kommt, aber nein, das ist nicht so, sorry. Das mit den Augen ist immer so die Sache, und da ich mich immer bemuehe "realistische" Fanfics zu schreiben, ist Blenden so 'ne Sache. Die Chancen, jemanden ohne moderne Medizin nur voruebergehend zu blenden sind extrem gering. Danke allerdings fuer die guten Wuensche, und wie es so schoen heisst: Sorry to burst your bubble. *knuddelt*  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - I'm evil incarnate? Why, thank you! That was a very nice thing to say! Well yes, the evil lord id marching somewhere, or wants to march somewhere, even if it's not really Mirkwood. I think you're not the only one who hates Teonvan, there should be a few dozen people right now. Sorry for not really posting "tomorrow", but this time it was F.net's fault. *g* Finally, I am not to blame for once.  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Yes, indeed, you are quite right. There are only a few other people who even remotely figured out who Girion is - even though I thought it rather obvious. If not because of the name, I thought that the flag was going to give it away. *shrugs* Well, I guess not everyone can be a freak like me. *g* I don't think that your brothers would be overly happy to be there, though. It's not the nicest city, you know. *g*  
**Sabercrazy** - I really have to congratulate you! Most of the people were looking in the wrong dictionary, so to say. Both names are correct, and I just added the 'r' to Sangwar's name since it's a rather common male ending. But you were wrong with Súliat. Don't worry, it's the hardest name too, since *whispers* it's a compound, that's makes it hard to figure out. *g* And that line was meant to be funny, don't worry. *huggles* Once again, congrats!  
**Elvendancer** - Yeah, pillow fights are fun, but only if your siblings aren't violent. Mine are. *g* So it can be a very bad idea. I understand your other sister though, HP is quite good too. I don't really like the new books, but I-III are very good indeed. Thanks for taking the time to review!  
**Firnsarnien** - I know, I know, I hate it too! I really hope your troll bashes it... *grrrr* And yes, I could tell that you were angry with FF.net - the curses at the beginning were kind of a giveaway... *g* LOL, that would be great, to have college courses about something like that! Believe me, I'd be the first to attend! And I hope that cliffy was bad since it was supposed to _be_ bad. Would have been a shame otherwise, wouldn't it? *g* Yup, definitely.  
**Grumpy** - Well, the bribe was a nice idea, apart from the fact that I got the review only yesterday. Sorry about that. *g* And I like the idea with the balrog! The nad thing is that they're so hard to control... *shakes head* No, a balrog wouldn't be such a good idea after all...   
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Nicenicenicenicenice... chapter? *g* Thanks! Hmm, as I said in the A/N, the twins and the others won't get there for some time. They are at least three days behind them, after all. Uhm, yes, Girion would be the name of the men's lord. I hope this chapter answers at least a few of your questions!  
**Narina Nightfall** - It was your birthday? Sorry! *throws even more confetti into air* Happy Birthday!! And I think you mean Anardir, not Adruran, because Adruran has never met Galalith - and now he won't either. *evil grin* Uhm, about the silver hair: Sure do other elves have it! Just look at Celeborn's and Celebrían's names! Sure there are other silver haired elves. And yes, Cendan looks a little bit like Aragorn, but I somehow doubt that the exchange would work. About the names: Halla means tall. And you're looking in the wrong language, sorry. *g* The OC won't be here for a while yet. Yes, Rhûn means East, and so does Rómen, but you have to remember that Quenya is the older - and frankly, more beautiful - of the two languages. The Tengwa Aragorn carved into the tree is called Rómen, not Rhûn, since the Tengwar all retained their Quenya names. Humans have twelve pairs of ribs, at least I think so, so out of 24 five aren't that much, are they? And as far as I know Arathorn and Gilraen were related, but then again I think most Dúnedain were related in one way or another since there were so few left. Apart from that, Dírhael was a descendant of Aranarth, who died in III, 2106, so they were _very_ distantly related. And I guess you could marry a cousin. I mean, now you can, and I don't think people saw it differently then. And I doubt there's a term for how Aragorn is related to Boromir. Were Boromir the son of a king and therefore a descendant of Anárion, I guess they would be _very_ distant cousins, but since he's from the House of Húrin, I guess they have ceased to be really related.  
**Snow-Glory** - *g* Great, because it was meant to sound terrifying. It worked then, very good... *g* And I am _sure_ Legolas would agree. He hasn't understood anyway that the palace is a cave, so... *evil grin* You'll have to wait a bit to find out what will happen with the twins, sorry! *even more evil grin*  
**Just Jordy** - I'm sorry you don't like cliffies. I LOVE them, but only when I write them. If I have to wait for ages for another chapter I don't like it overly much either... Great you liked it so far, thanks for the review!  
**Amelie** - Well, that all sounds ... very interesting. The sugar and all that, I mean. Oh, don't worry, the bad guys don't really want Legolas at the moment. I mean, they want him, but not really. *grimaces* I am not making a lot of sense at the moment, right? Well, you'll see what I mean. Eventually, I think. As I said in the A/N, there won't be any twins or Celylith in this chapter, sorry. I really hope you're better and get more sleep in the future! Not sleeping can't be healthy! *g*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - I know, I know, FF.net hates us. And it's great ROTK won all these Oscars, huh? Even though I think that it won all them for all the movies, because I really don't think that ROTK is the best of the three. And I have to admit that I never before heard of a miniature, vegetarian balrog. Silly me. *g* *shakes head* I really don't see why you people love the horses so much. They're just ... horses, right? And Bob is VERY scary. Very scary indeed. *g*  
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Yeah, too uch violence can ruin the whole story. I've always said so. There are stories that are nothing but - I don't like them overly much, or rather not at all. Thanks for the review!  
**Jera** - Your review makes in fact more sense than most of my stories. *g* Hmm, you want Sangwar? Well, that's a new one! I don't think anyone likes him overly much at the moment, even though I do. But then again, I like all my OCs, so that doesn't mean much. LOL, yes, it's indeed hard being an evil overlord these days. When I was a kid, it was far easier and more rewarding... *drones on* Oh, and I liked the orc captain too. He was ... cute. *shudders* I need help, I know. And you're the second person to tell me about the "blonde" thing - why in the name of all the Gods did no-one tell me before??? My dictionary doesn't make a difference, which only proves that it's not a very good dictionary. I'll start using "blond" then, and I'll chance it in all the other chapters once I have too much time. Thank you very much for pointing that out - how am I supposed to learn if no-one tells me what I am doing wrong? *g* Well, thanks for the review! *huggles*  
***Falling Star*** - Well, there is a lot of sarcasm in this story, I think I would die if I had to write a chapter without a single sarcastic comment. No, I am sure I would die. *g* You forgot to eat? That's certainly a compliment! Thanks! I am glad you liked this, and thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**C Hobbes** - *g* I see what you mean. "Next week: Another episode of 'The Ill-fated Adventured of the Reckless Human and His Companion the Stubborn Elf'"... I like that! *g* I know, in school or college or whatever they make you analyse everything, even the analyses of analyses of analyses. *shakes head* Horrible. If that movie is in French, it explains why I haven't seen it yet. I speak about ten words of French. I speak more Quenya than that. It's sad, don't tell me.   
**Bailey** - It doesn't mean that you're stupid that you don't know who Girion is, it only means that you're not quite as freakish as I am. Which is good. *hands her a cookie* Well done. I think that most questions will be answered in this chapter. That's what I hope though. *g*  
**Karone Evertree** - Well, I just received this review yesterday, so sorry for not mailing it to you. I just hope I can post this today, otherwise I will perhaps really send it to you. I hate FF.net, but I'm sure you know that... *g*  
**A rather ticked off Suzi** - I whole-heartedly agree. FF.net is evil and mean and hates me. But I hate it too, so that's okay.   
**Iverson** - Sorry to hear that you're so busy. It's absolutely okay if you don't review. We all know how much time Real Life can cost - much of one's time, in fact... It's great that you liked the bad guys, I very much enjoy writing them too. And don't worry, most of the people here are looking forward to Aragorn Angst. We're all insane here. *insane grin* See?   
**Marbienl** - It's not really cool! It's rather scary, in fact, VERY scary... And she's only 17, too! *g* You didn't miss anything. Gladiator was laughable, _especially_ when you know a thing or two about that time period. It made me weep on several occasions - and not because it was tragic. *g* Oh, and really? You are REALLY looking forward to ranger torture? *sarcastically* Who'd have thought...  
**Crippled Raven** - An angst addict, huh? Well, there seem to be lots of them... *g* I'm sorry to disappoint you though, he doesn't get to watch. A little bit next chapter, but only a little, if at all. Sorry. *g* I know what you mean, there are loads of fics that simply overdo the whole torture thing. I mean, it's not that I don't like it (not that anyone would believe me if I said I didn't anyway *g*), but you can really destroy an otherwise good story with too much of it. *blinks* I like your comparisons though. Very ... figurative. I love the cow. *stupid grin* I'm also glad to hear that this insane little fic meets your approval. I tried to think of an alliteration myself, but failed, sorry. *g* It's nice to hear that you like Celylith, even though I have to insist that you do in fact not abduct him. He's quite happy where he is, or so he's assured me. And you're right: If anyone steals him, I would have to stop writing. Good threat. *g* You did not bore me at all, I thank you very much for taking the time to review and I hope you're finished with your exams now. *huggles*  
  
**As always, thanks a lot for the reviews! I hope I got all of them, but knowing FF.net, one or two have slipped through. If that is the case, I'm sorry. Blame FF.net, not me. *g***  
  



	21. Incentives

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
It seems that I once again have to apologise for posting too late, but college has really caught up with me now. These two evil papers don't appear to go away when you ignore them as I had hoped, and I have quite a lot to do. I therefore have to announce that it's really going to be every seven days now - I'm very sorry, really. Trust me, I'd much rather write this highly entertaining, mad little story, but I guess my professors wouldn't be all that happy about it. *rueful grin* So until I've got a little more time (which should be about end of April *g*), there'll be an update each Friday. Once again, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for more. *smiles apologetically*  
  
Hmm, about the names: Quite a few people have found out the emissaries' names: First: They're all Quenya. Sangwa means "poison" and Halya means "to conceal, screen from sight". I simply added male endings, in both cases agentive ones, and that was it. Súliat's name was a little harder to figure out I'm afraid, since it's a compound. It's composed of Súli- + a + -t; Súli is the plural of Súlë, meaning "spirit, breath, wind" and -t is a dual ending, meaning "two" or "both". I admit that I put the "-a-" in there because it looked nicer. So, we have "Poisoner", "Concealer" and "He-who-is-of-two-spirits", which was the best for betrayer or traitor I could come up with that started with "S". *g* So, no clones for anyone, sorry. *g*  
  
  
Now that that's cleared up, here's the next chapter - well, talk about stating the obvious... *g* Well, what do we have ... a bit more torture, a lot more angst, we meet Glamir, see Celylith, Glorfindel and the twins again and have a little cliffy. *evil grin* It's only a little one, promise.  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 21  
  
  
Legolas could not remember having ever been so furious in his entire life. There had been several times when he had been really, really angry before, but that had been nothing compared to this.   
  
It wasn't as much that he was angry – well, that wasn't really true. He _was _angry, he was so angry that he would have killed the first person who came into his cell with his bare hands, bound or not. But more than anger he felt guilt, a guilt that stabbed through his heart and threatened to tear it apart every time he heard another of the screams.   
  
As if on cue, another choked, hoarse cry rent the air, causing the elf to bow his head and, for the ten thousandth time, curse the keen hearing his people were blessed with. He couldn't take this anymore, he couldn't just sit here and listen to Aragorn's screams. Yet there was nothing he could do to change it, and that coupled with the knowledge that this was all his fault, that all this happened just because of him, was enough to drive him insane.   
  
Had his hands been untied, he would have clamped them over his ears to block out the sounds of his friend's pain. It was his fault that Aragorn was in the hands of Teonvan, only his. It was his fault that the ranger was suffering, it was his fault that he was being tortured by the sickest being he had ever had the misfortune to meet.   
  
The scream faded and finally died, and Legolas leaned back against the damp stone wall, fighting hard for composure and against the tears that wanted to escape his tightly closed eyes. The cries had started soon after they had taken Aragorn away, and even now, after at least two hours, they had not weakened in their intensity, or only marginally. The elf swallowed hard. He knew what that meant, and the guilt in his heart increased even more. He had promised Lord Elrond to look after Estel, he had promised to protect the young man with his life, and what was he doing? Allowing the ranger to be tortured by a man who had wanted nothing more for the past week. A fine friend he was, wasn't he?   
  
He was still contemplating his own foolishness and furiously planning what he would do to Teonvan should he ever be able to get hands on him – and he would, he vowed to himself, he would make that man pay for what he was doing to his friend – when another sound reached his ears, a sound that he identified as footsteps after a moment. The sounds drew closer and finally stopped in front of his door, and another moment later he heard a key scrape in the lock until the door swung open with a loud, resounding click.   
  
While Legolas was still blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the blinding light, two shadowy figures entered the small cell and grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet and out of the room before the elf had even fully realised what was going on. Outside waited three more men, and all thoughts of escape died in Legolas' mind. There was no way he could escape five men. He was angry enough to take on thrice as many, yes, but considering the way his chest hurt and he was once again having trouble breathing, he wouldn't even manage to fight three of them.   
  
The men ignored his murderous looks that would have killed even the most thick-skinned troll, and while they were dragging him down the corridor Legolas decided that that must have something to do with serving the most insane man he could remember meeting in a while. How was it possible that the descendant of a decent, reasonable man was as insane as Eöl the Dark Elf? That thought served to bring a small smile to the elf's face and even made him forget about the men's hands that were gripping his arms and pushing him forward. Eöl had been cast over the cliffs of Caragdûr by the Gondolindrim, hadn't he?   
  
The smile widened a little while he was amusing himself with the very attractive vision of throwing Girion off one of the towers, or, better yet, off the highest peak of the Ered Dhuir. Oh yes, he thought darkly. The very highest peak of the Ered Dhuir…   
  
He was still imagining what it would feel like to throw Teonvan – and while he was at it, also Cendan – off that mountain as soon as his mad lord had hit the ground when he was pulled to a stop in front of a thick, well-made door that looked oddly out of place. It looked too … clean, somehow, too much like the front door of a wealthy business man's house, Legolas thought confused, but before he could further dwell on that subject the man who had been leading them with a torch in his hand took a step forward and knocked. Without waiting to be admitted the man opened the door and stepped to the side, making way for his companions who pushed their captive forward and into the brightly lit room.   
  
Legolas didn't really know what he had been expecting to see, but this was most definitely not it, he decided after a split second. This room did not look like any dungeon he had ever seen, and neither did it look like an interrogation room – yet it did, somehow. Still, the first thing that came to the elven prince's mind when his eyes wandered over the small, but somehow airy space was … homely.   
  
It was an association one did not expect in a dungeon, and even less in a torture chamber. Yet the room did appear homely, somehow. The walls were smooth and clean, and Legolas could even see a finely woven tapestry, depicting … a pastoral scene? The elf blinked perplexedly while he was pushed forward. He was getting the distinct feeling that he was missing something very important here. There was a massive wooden chest standing in the one corner, a long table right next to it. In front of the table stood a carved chair, and two very comfortable-looking armchairs were just to the right of the entrance, next to a merrily burning fire that was going in a small hearth.   
  
Somehow he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was stepping into someone's living room – if that someone had rather bizarre taste. While the room appeared at first glance to be a cosy living room or study, there were more than enough indications that it wasn't so. Apart from the chains dangling from one of the walls there were dark spots on the wooden chest, a reddish discolouration that had been wiped off but was still visible for the keen eyes of an elf. No, Legolas thought as he was dragged into the room, but surprisingly into the direction of the armchairs and not into the direction of the chains. This was no-one's living room.   
  
A few seconds later he was pulled to a stop next to the fireplace, and three of the guards turned around and left, locking the door as they exited the room. At the same time a dark figure stepped out of the shadows next to the exit that had been concealed by the open door until now, and when Legolas laid eyes on the man who stepped into the light of the torches and candles that lit the room, he decided that something was definitely not right here.   
  
The man looked like … like a librarian, Legolas decided as the man came closer, a friendly smile on his face. He was middle-aged and rather small, at least a head and a half smaller than the elf who was standing next to an armchair, his surprise and confusion hidden under a mask of calmness. He had thinning grey hair and a round, friendly face, and his arms and legs were thin and appeared somewhat fragile. The man's attire fitted this impression as well; the clothing was dark and well-made, but without unnecessary adornments or embroidery. All in all, he looked like the prime example of an elderly councilman or a peaceful scholar – if not for his eyes. The eyes were brown and as ice cold as the Forest River in mid-winter. There was nothing but shrewd calculation in them, and Legolas had seen wargs in mid-jump who had appeared more friendly or merciful.   
  
The man stopped in front of him and gave the fair haired elf a polite nod, a friendly expression on his face that never made it into his eyes.   
"Good evening, Master Elf. I have been looking forward to meeting you."   
  
Even the voice was cultivated and soft, Legolas decided startled, but it also told him one thing: The man was not from around here. The accent was different, and the way the other pronounced several syllables seemed strangely familiar. Legolas realised that the man was waiting for an answer and narrowed his eyes, not being in the mood for pleasantries.   
"Where is my friend? What have you done to him?"   
  
For a moment, the small man in front of him looked confused, but then understanding was beginning to dawn on his face.   
"Ah, you mean the ranger?" he asked as he sat down in one of the armchairs. "But please, sit down first."   
  
Legolas merely stared at the man, ignoring his offer completely.   
"Where – is – my – friend?"   
  
The man merely shook his head as if displeased with the other's lack of manners, but answered nonetheless, an expression of indifference on his face.   
"He's my lord's present to Teonvan for successfully completing the mission. Frankly, I do not agree with Lord Girion's decision, but what can you do?"   
  
The elf's eyes seemed to catch fire, and he struggled against his two guards who held him back with some trouble.   
"What is he doing to him?"   
  
"Several things, I'd imagine," the man shrugged. "And what will be done to him in the future all depends on only one thing: You." The elf made no move to answer, and so the man finally shrugged and added, "But where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Glamir."   
  
"The master torturer, I assume," Legolas spat contemptuously.   
  
Glamir sighed but smiled and nodded.   
"I don't like that title, it has such a … negative ring to it; dreadful, really dreadful. But yes, I am Lord Girion's master torturer, and I am very good at what I do."   
  
"I trust your word on that," Legolas retorted darkly. "Why don't you let the ranger go? He has nothing to do with this."   
  
Glamir shook his head again, looking hurt and a tiny bit angry.   
"Please, Master Elf, you insult my intelligence. I am not a sick, uncontrolled man like Teonvan who isn't intelligent enough to outwit even the stupidest goblin." He noticed the surprise on the elf's face and smiled thinly. "No, Master Elf, I do not like Teonvan, and it does you credit that you obviously don't either. Teonvan is stupid, greedy and egotistic, and a thousand things in between. But I find him … useful from time to time."   
  
"You are no better than him," the elf protested, eyes hard and dark in his bruised face. "You use a human child to get to me! You are a coward!"   
  
"No," the man shook his head, obviously unperturbed. "I am a professional. More than that, I am an artist. I know exactly how much a body can take, and, more importantly, how much a spirit can take before it is damaged beyond repair. I do not do this because I gain any mentionable enjoyment out of it, I do this because I am good at it. And, more than that, I am also not stupid. The ranger has everything to do with this, and both you and I know that."   
  
"Why?" Legolas asked, but knowing deep in his heart that it was futile to argue with this little, frighteningly controlled man. He was right, he was not stupid. "He does not know what your lord wants to hear!"   
  
"No, he most likely does not," Glamir shook his head in agreement and stood up from his chair, motioning the guards to bring the elven prisoner over to the chains hanging from the wall. "But _you _do, and that is all that matters. He is the reason why you and I will spend a lot of time together, speaking about all the things my lord wants to know."   
  
"I won't tell you anything," Legolas shook his head and stared at the man angrily while the guards were forcing his now unbound, but stiff and thoroughly useless hands into the metal manacles. A second later the cuffs closed around his wrists, binding them uselessly to the wall at the height of his shoulders. "You are all wasting your time."   
  
"No, we are not, and you know it, once again," Glamir shook his head and nodded at the guards who withdrew and took up positions next to the closed door. "Teonvan has the opportunity to enjoy himself a little, and in addition to that we also get another thing: A demonstration." He took a step closer, his cold brown eyes boring into Legolas' angry blue ones. "Only very heartless or indifferent people can watch their friends suffer and remain silent even though they have the power to stop it. How much longer are you going to listen to your friend's screams before you break and tell me everything I want to know? Not long, I think. You know, I wouldn't have the slightest problem with it. You, however, are different, I think."   
  
"Yes," Legolas hissed at the man, the truth in the other's words only serving to make him angrier. "You are right, I am different! But I will not tell you anything, no matter what you do. I would dishonour him and myself with it, and he would wish me to remain silent."   
  
Glamir shook his head, an amused sparkle appearing in his eyes.   
"He may have thought so, yes," he agreed. "Back in that cell of yours he may have told you not to reveal anything, may even have pleaded with you to hold your silence. But," he stopped shortly, looking calculatingly at the shackled elf, "how much longer do you think he'll be of that opinion, if he even is of it now? Teonvan may be an idiot and overeager, but he is effective, even if he has preferences I do not share."   
  
The elf's eyes darkened so far that it was hard to distinguish between pupils and the surrounding irises, and he leaned forward as far as his chains would permit him.   
"If Strider has suffered any lasting damage, I will kill you. You, Teonvan, and every single man in this castle."   
  
Glamir stepped back and walked over to his desk, nodding his head in friendly agreement.   
"Yes, Master Elf, I believe you would do that – if you had the chance." He righted a long, blank roll of parchment and reached for a quill, scrutinised its tip and reached for a small knife sitting on the desktop next to the inkwell to trim it into the correct form. "But things being as they are, you are chained to the wall and I am in the position to ask you a lot of questions."   
  
"You may ask," Legolas said acidly, "But you will not receive any answers."   
  
Glamir finished his work and carefully placed the quill on top of the parchment, once again resembling an aging schoolmaster more than anything else. The man turned back to the elf, an expression of deep disapproval on his round face.   
"It appears you aren't grasping the one very important thing, Master Elf," he told his prisoner. "You will tell me everything my lord wants to know. _Everything_. We can do this the pleasant way, or we can do this the hard way. Remember what you heard earlier from your friend – it can be him listening to your screams, if he is still capable of hearing you, that is."   
  
That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, for the determined, contemptuous expression on Legolas' face only hardened.   
"Do what you will. I will not betray my king to you or that madman you call lord."   
  
"As I expected," Glamir nodded to himself and began to walk back to his table, sitting down on the carved wooden chair when he reached it. "As I expected, but still slightly disappointing. As I said, I am a professional, and I had been hoping we could settle this like reasonable people."   
  
He once again nodded into the guards' direction, who abandoned their posts and began to walk over to where Legolas was chained to the wall, a gleeful expression of anticipation on their faces that the elf did not like at all.   
  
"Let's consider this a test," the small man told the elven prince as the two men stopped in front of him, cracking their knuckles and looking extraordinarily like two trolls that had just found a victim they could pummel for a while. "A simple test to see just how determined you are. Believe it or not, there are many men who break down after the first hour. Or rather, there were. Past tense."   
  
Glamir leaned back against the back of his chair, and in the moment the first man drew back to hit him, Legolas decided that this man was even worse than Teonvan, in a sense at least. This little, scholarly man was making him sick, from his apparently friendly smile to his educated voice and ordinary appearance. He was lying when he said that he didn't enjoy what he was doing, when he pretended that he merely saw it as his work. Glamir enjoyed this and the power it brought with it at least as much as Teonvan, who at least didn't pretend he didn't.   
  
The elf's train of thought was rudely interrupted when one of the guards' fists connected with stomach, driving all air from his lungs. Before he even had the chance to curl himself up like his body urgently advised him in order to protect himself, the second man's balled fist hit him in the right side, smashing his back against the stone wall.   
  
Legolas soon lost count of how many times he was hit or how long it took, and he soon sunk into a dreamlike state that was only interrupted when the men hit the stab wound in his side. Most of the other cuts Teonvan had placed so painstakingly in his chest had already closed, but Legolas was sure that a good percentage had opened again now, and every time a fist connected with his breast fiery pain shot through him.   
  
Far worse than the injuries to his chest and shoulders was the side wound, however, and every time one of the guards' fists made contact with it, Legolas was hard-pressed not to scream aloud. Even despite the pain that was beginning to overwhelm him, the blond elf tried to keep his left side as protected as possible – he really did not want to find out what Aragorn would say if he saw that his stitches had been torn open. Members of Lord Elrond's family seemed to take such things personally, Legolas thought dreamily as the air was once again driven from his lungs by a vicious blow to his stomach. He would rather face the fire-breathing dragon that would surely show itself some time soon than have to admit to the Lord of Imladris – or one of his sons, human or not – that he had torn his stitches…   
  
When the blows finally stopped, he could honestly not say how much time had passed. Over the roaring in his ears he heard the guards make some gleeful comments to each other, and a few moments later he even managed to raise his head on his own, something that filled him with a lot of satisfaction and a profound sense of achievement. The scene that greeted his eyes was almost unchanged: The guards were still standing in front of him (even though they were looking more as if they were massaging their knuckles this time) and Glamir was still sitting in his chair, looking half-pleased and half-annoyed.   
  
"Well?" Glamir merely asked and looked at him expectantly.   
  
Legolas did not answer but simply looked at the grey haired human, his white, bruised face calm and an eyebrow arched in a way that distinctly said "What do you think?" After a moment Glamir averted his eyes, pursed his lips and nodded at the guards who once again returned to their posts at the door. One of them took position next to the exit while the other produced a key, unlocked the door and quietly disappeared out of the room.   
  
The elf's attention was transferred from the now closed door to the small man who had stood to his feet and had walked over to him, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Glamir reached out and meticulously unbuttoned the elf's now bloodstained shirt, ignoring the way the prisoner stared at him in utter contempt. The fabric parted, and the man shook his head when he saw the reopened, bleeding cuts that were visible where the bandages had come loose.  
  
"Teonvan, hmm?" he asked softly, looking up into the elf's face, annoyance on his features. "He will never learn to control himself, I fear."   
  
Legolas merely snorted and suppressed a chuckle, knowing full well that his ribs wouldn't agree with such a foolish action. He hadn't made his mind up about whether they were broken or bruised, but he _was _sure they wouldn't be pleased about something as reckless as laughing.   
"What would you know about control, human?"   
  
For a moment, real, passionate anger flared in the man's eyes, and Legolas' satisfaction at having managed to break through Glamir's calm façade intermingled with a small stab of fear. He did not like that look, not at all.   
  
"A lot, Master Elf," Glamir retorted and let the open shirt fall back into place. "Otherwise you would already be hanging from your chains by your wrists, begging me for mercy."   
  
"Is that so?"   
  
"Oh, aye," the man nodded darkly, a look of such conviction on his face that it made Legolas' blood run cold. "Aye, you would. But, contrary to Teonvan, I am a man who heeds his orders. I could have you broken at my feet by now, but if you break someone that quickly, you always damage the mind beyond repair. And that would be of no advantage to any of us, would it? Besides," he added, once again walking back to the table and leaning against it in a deliberately casual gesture, "my Lord Girion has impressed upon me the importance of this interrogation. I was ordered to extract the wanted information, as quickly as possible, but I am to make sure it is accurate. You would not believe how jumbled a man's memory and perception can become once he has been put through a certain amount of pain. This of course leaves me with a problem."   
  
The nonchalant, conversational tone of voice Glamir used was even more shocking to the elf than what he actually said. How could anyone talk like this about hurting, about _torturing _someone? And not even just "someone"; he must have done this to dozens, to hundreds of men, and he still sounded as if they were no more than figures in a book.   
  
While Legolas was still staring somewhat disbelievingly at the small, ordinary-looking human who was leaning against the table standing no more than ten feet away from him, he heard footsteps that were beginning to draw closer, nearing this room. There were at least three men coming closer, the elf decided quickly, concentrating hard in order to block out the pain that throbbed through his body with every heartbeat. There was, however, a sound he could not identify, a somewhat shuffling sound, as if someone was dragging his feet behind…   
  
Realisation dawned on the elf in the exact moment that the door was thrown open and Teonvan sauntered in, his face practically glowing in a way that made Legolas sick to his stomach. The brown haired man began to grin when he saw the pale, bruised elf and he said something, but Legolas' attention was captured by two things so that he didn't even realise the man had been speaking to him.  
  
The first thing the elven prince noticed with shocked fear was that there was blood on the captain's tunic and shirt, and there was _a lot _of it. There were large and small splashes all over the man's torso and arms, and Legolas realised with calm, detached clarity whose blood it had to be.   
More than that, however, shocked him the second thing his eyes saw, namely the body the two other men, one of them the guard who had left, dragged in now, therefore also explaining the shuffling noise.   
  
Legolas forgot everything around him as his eyes widened and his heart constricted in his chest.   
"Strider!" he gasped, a sudden, horrible cold washing over him. "Estel! Estel!!"   
  
Teonvan grinned broadly and said something, but Legolas wasn't paying him the slightest attention, all this thoughts concentrated on his human friend who was hanging between the two other men like a flour sack.   
  
For a moment, Legolas couldn't see any wounds on Aragorn's body, but a split second later he realised that that was because almost every single square inch of the young ranger's upper body was covered with dried and drying blood, giving him an almost clothed appearance. The wounds themselves were of a darker red colour and a lot of them still bled freely, adding to the severe blood loss the man must already have suffered.   
  
Legolas blinked slowly as his eyes wandered over the ranger's body. There were … holes in him, for a lack of better term. Holes of about an inch in diameter were all over his upper arms, shoulders and torso, and a few seemed to be also on his hips and legs. They were oddly symmetrical, as if the person responsible for them – as if _Teonvan_, the elf thought in mounting fury – had taken special care to place them on the same spots on either side of Aragorn's body.   
  
The elf's mind wondered for a moment what could cause such wounds, but shied away from the thought half a second later like a hand from a red-hot surface. He didn't know, and he didn't care, all he wanted was to break these chains and strangle that sickening, infuriating grin from Teonvan's face.   
  
"Strider!" Legolas called again. "Answer me! Strider!!"   
  
The elf wasn't sure if Aragorn even heard his pleading voice, for he showed no signs that he even realised where he was. The young ranger's eyes were half-lidded and what was visible of the grey orbs was glazed and filled with such pain that Legolas would have wanted to weep. O the Valar, this was all his fault, his fault and no other's…   
  
Glamir studied the young ranger with the same critical eyes with which a schoolmaster would have studied a writing exercise one of his pupils had handed in, and a moment later he turned back to Teonvan, a slightly disapproving frown on his face.   
"You overdid it a little there, didn't you, Captain?"   
  
Teonvan's grin faded immediately and he looked at the smaller, elderly man with an expression akin to fear.   
"There were only certain limitations, Master Glamir," he defended himself hastily. "And he is still alive! That is the most important thing, is it not?"   
  
"Perhaps," Glamir nodded reluctantly. "Yes, perhaps indeed." He fell silent for a second, his cold eyes resting calculatingly on the blond elf who was staring desperately at his semiconscious friend. "Very well," he finally added, turning back to Teonvan, "You can have the boy. Do with him as you please, he is of no concern to me."   
  
It was hard to say who was more shocked by this announcement, the elf or the brown haired man, but it was clear who was more appalled by the prospect.   
"What?!" Legolas exclaimed, his head whipping around to look at the even-faced Glamir. "He's barely alive as it is! He will kill him!"   
  
"So?" the small man retorted indifferently. "You are apparently not moved by his fate, so why should I be?" He nodded at the two guards who were holding the dark haired man upright, who was apparently regaining some of his senses now. "Take him back."   
  
The two men turned and began to drag their prisoner into the direction of the door, garnering a small, pain-filled moan from the ranger which he couldn't suppress now that he was returning more and more to awareness, when the elven prince's voice halted them in their tracks.   
  
"Stop!" he commanded in a voice that held all the fury that filled his heart. The two guards did indeed stop and turned back around, and Legolas stared at Glamir's face, searching for a hint of compassion or mercy and finding none. "Please, you cannot do this! He is barely more than a child!"   
  
The small man cocked his head slightly to the side and stepped closer, an unreadable sparkle in his eyes.   
  
"You want to protect him, Master Elf? Then tell me what my lord wants to know." The elf simply stared at him, and he stepped even closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "If you care for your friend at all, you will tell me, because otherwise I _will _give him to Teonvan, without the slightest hesitation. You know what the dear captain wants to do, don't you?" The elf's eyes narrowed which Glamir answered with a small, cold smile. "Yes, I see that you do. He's realistic, you know? He knows what he can't and can have. You fall under the first category, but the ranger under the second. I have seen what such things do to a man, especially when he's still as young as your friend. Tell me what I want to know," he repeated, "or the ranger will end his life in a dungeon with Teonvan and his lieutenants. Even if he were to survive this evening, you wouldn't recognise him anymore should you see him again, trust me."   
  
Legolas stared at the grey haired man, but before he could answer, a soft, almost inaudible voice interrupted him, causing both his and Glamir's head to turn into the direction of the men at the door.   
"Don't … do it." Aragorn did not raise his head that was lolling to the side, but his voice was amazingly clear. "Do … not … tell…"

Teonvan's fist connected with the young man's head and cut off the words, and the ranger's head fell forward, leaving Legolas to pray that he had finally lost consciousness. The elf shot the brown haired man an acid look that should have burned a hole through his middle and turned his eyes back to Glamir.   
"If I tell you what you want to know, what will happen to my friend?"   
  
"Nothing," Glamir shrugged. "Teonvan will take him back to your cell."   
  
"And I am supposed to believe that?" Legolas asked scornfully.   
  
"You don't have any other choice, I'm afraid," the man smiled triumphantly. "You will have to trust me."   
  
"Trust you?!" the elf exclaimed, looking as if the man had asked him to hop around the room and imitate a chicken. Glamir stared back at him while Teonvan looked as if he had received an unexpected gift only to be deprived of it again, and finally Legolas nodded slowly. "Alright," he bowed his head slightly. "Alright. I will tell you what you want to know, but I want your word that the ranger is taken back to the cell and left alone."   
  
"You have it," Glamir agreed without hesitation. "As I said, he is none of my concern."   
  
"But, sir!" Teonvan exclaimed. "I…"   
  
"You will follow orders, _Captain_," Glamir interrupted him, his voice sharp as steel. "Take the prisoner back to the cell. Now."   
  
"Yes, sir," Teonvan ground out after a moment, a fearful expression flickering over his face at the other's warning words.   
  
Legolas gave the brown haired man only a fleeting glance before he looked back at Glamir, eyes hard and cold.   
"If you break your word and my friend is harmed in any way, I will never tell you all you want to know, no matter what you do. I will die rather than give you all the information, that I swear by the Valar and Ilúvatar himself."   
  
The small man merely nodded at the fair haired elf, an unreadable expression on his face, and Teonvan gave both of them a murderous look and spun on his heel, striding into the direction of the door that stood slightly ajar.   
"Come!" he barked at the two guards who exchanged a quick look and followed the man out of the door, dragging the unresponsive ranger after them.   
  
The remaining guard closed the door and reassumed his post next to the wooden door, and Glamir walked calmly back to the long table and sat down again, taking up the freshly sharpened quill and righting the inkwell until it stood perfectly aligned with the roll of parchment.   
"Alright, Master Elf. Let's start, shall we?"   
  
Legolas tore his eyes away from the closed door and slowly redirected his gaze to the small man sitting on his wooden chair, looking so content and pleased that it made him feel sick. He briefly closed his eyes and sent a fervent prayer to Eru Ilúvatar that Glamir would keep his word and that Aragorn would not be harmed further.   
  
After a moment he opened his eyes again, a calm, emotionless expression in their silver-blue depths, and began to speak.   


  
  
That did it, Elrohir thought in mounting fury. He had been patient until now, hadn't he? He had been patient, he had been reasonable, he had been controlled, he had been sympathetic, he had been kind, and how was he being repaid?   
  
The younger twin whirled around and let the brush he had been using to groom his horse fall to the ground, indignation and real anger warring on his face.   
"Celylith!" he spat, grey eyes nearly boring a hole into the silver haired elf's back. "Either you stop it or I will!"   
  
The younger elf raised his head and turned around, clearly confused, his own brush freezing in mid-air.   
"Pardon me?"   
  
"Stop it!" Elrohir repeated darkly, giving him a very convincing rendition of his father's _look_. "Now, before I lose what is left of my composure!"   
  
Celylith carefully raised both his hands in front of him, trying to decide whether or not Elrohir was finally losing his mind. Come to think about it, he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.   
"Stop what, _mellon nín_? I am not doing anything!"   
  
"Not you," Elrohir shook his head curtly, his eyes wandering over to the white horse the silver haired elf was currently brushing. "That … that thing! I will kill it if it doesn't stop it, I swear by all the Valar that I will!"   
  
The other elf was about to ask what Rashwe had done now, but the words died on his lips when he looked at the horse's face on which a puzzling mix of satisfaction and innocence could be seen. For a moment, Celylith thought he was imagining things, but then the moon broke through the clouds and he saw that he had been correct: There was a small piece of cloth hanging out of the horse's mouth. His eyes wandered over to Elrohir and the rather large hole in the back of the twin's tunic, and when the pieces fell into place his eyes grew wide and the corners of his mouth began to twitch slightly.   
  
"Don't," Elrohir advised him darkly, dividing his _look _between the horse and his friend now. "Laugh and you'll regret it."   
  
"I would never, my lord!" Celylith exclaimed, doing his best not to start chuckling. "This is a very grave situation indeed."   
  
Elrohir scowled a last time at the other elf before he gave his horse a small pat and sent it off to look for some patches of grass that had survived the frost. The twin's horse disappeared quickly, apparently more than happy to escape Rashwe's presence.   
"I have done nothing to it, and yet it hates me!" he complained. "Why??"   
  
"Well," his twin's voice remarked from behind him, "That might be because you proposed to leave it to the goblins back in Legolas' cursed tunnel system, what was its name again?"   
  
"Nogrodrim," Celylith supplied helpfully.   
  
"Yes, Nogrodrim," Elladan nodded, stepping next to his brother and giving the horse a weary glance. "And perhaps you should stop calling Rashwe 'it'."   
  
"It's an 'it'. If there was ever a horse that was an 'it', it is Rashwe," Elrohir protested darkly and gathered his bags he had put next to a snow-covered boulder when they had unloaded the horses. "Don't try to appease it, brother. It hates you too. It also hates Celylith, but I think it's afraid of Glorfindel."   
  
"Nonsense," Elladan and Celylith said simultaneously.   
  
"I do not think Rashwe is afraid of anything," Celylith added and gave the white horse a careful pat, quickly withdrawing his hand when the animal turned its head and gave him a dark look. "Even though I have to admit that he very likely really hates me." Just like he hated Rashwe, he added inwardly as he stepped back and returned the brush to the saddlebags. That was, however, something he would never openly admit in front of aforementioned horse. He was neither stupid nor suicidal, after all.   
  
With a last contemptuous look at the three young elves the horse in question all but threw back its head and slowly and majestically stalked off, doubtlessly in search of something or someone else it could torment. Elrohir watched Rashwe disappear through the five trees that were the only shelter they had been able to find, shaking his head darkly.   
  
"This horse," he finally said when the animal was safely out of ear-shot, "is insane. I honestly do not know what Legolas sees in it."   
  
"Neither do I," Celylith shook his head. "But if the prince loves it, who am I to disagree?"   
  
"Every sane person would disagree," Elladan shook his head as well as they walked the few yards over to where Glorfindel had lit a small campfire. "If it were given the chance, it would kill us, I'm sure about it."   
  
"With the greatest of pleasure," Elrohir agreed. "And it ripped my shirt! That demon really tried to eat me – again!"   
  
"It's your own fault," Glorfindel shook his head as the three young ones sat down heavily next to the merrily burning fire. "Stop antagonising it and it will leave you alone."   
  
Elrohir merely snorted.   
"Since when do demons leave you alone when you are polite to them?"   
  
Glorfindel did not answer and merely looked at the two brothers and their Silvan friend, worry and anxiety warring in his chest. The three of them looked horrible, and if they were still in this condition when he brought them back home, Elrond would indeed kill him. All of them had dark rings under their eyes that were nearly as black as the twins' hair, and Glorfindel was sure that it was only fear and nervousness that kept them going. Both Elrond's sons and young Celylith wouldn't stop until they had found Aragorn and Legolas, alive or dead. If the latter was the case, they wouldn't stop until they had killed their murderers.   
  
They had been travelling for eight days now, and it had been four days since they had found the camp and the clue Aragorn had left them. They had made very good time, and if they continued at this pace and direction, they would reach the Sea of Rhûn in about two days.   
  
The golden haired elf lord shook his head darkly. Yes, they had made good progress until now, but the thing that was beginning to drive even him to insanity was that they didn't know for sure if they were even going into the right direction. The conviction that they had interpreted the small rune Estel had carved into the tree correctly faded with every step their horses took and that didn't bring them closer to another piece of proof that the young ranger and the elven prince had been in this part of Arda. Glorfindel sighed softly. They might just as well be in Ithilien, for they had found no sign of the humans who had taken them captive.   
  
The blond elf had completely forgotten about his three companions, and so he was rather startled when a hand touched his forearm and he looked up into a pair of grey eyes that looked so much like Elrond's that he really thought his friend to be here for a moment.   
"I have never known you to lose hope, my friend," Elrohir said softly, his eyes large and pleading in the firelight. "Please tell me my eyes deceive me."   
  
Glorfindel raised his head and smiled at the younger twin, trying to banish these dark thoughts from his mind. He knew that his companions were adults and centuries, no, millennia past their respective majorities, but he also knew that they looked to him for guidance now, and be it only out of habit. He was not only the Seneschal and Captain of Imladris' forces, he had also been the twins' teacher for the better part of their lives.   
  
"They do deceive you, Elrohir," he told the younger elf. "I have not lost hope, and do not intend to either. Yet my mind is troubled, I will not lie to you about that."   
  
"All our minds are troubled," Elladan said softly. "I had hoped to find something that might prove our suspicions true, that would show us that we are not following an imaginary trail, but…"   
  
"There is nothing," Celylith finished the older twin's sentence quietly. "No trace, no sign, no witnesses – no hope."   
  
"Wrong," Glorfindel shook his head firmly. "There is hope, there is _always _hope. Until we have found their bodies they are still alive, remember that, young one. I think our best chance is to continue south-east until we reach that city the villagers told us about, the one close to the Ered Dhuir. What was its name again – Baredlen?"   
  
The others nodded slowly. Yesterday evening they had more or less stumbled over a small settlement that had been nearly invisible in the falling darkness because the snow had piled up so high that the buildings had nearly disappeared under the white substance. There had been no more than five families living in the village, and all of them had been so afraid of them that it had been a miracle any of them had even spoken a coherent sentence.   
  
Amazingly enough, Celylith mused, he hadn't had the feeling that the villagers had been afraid of them specifically, even though it had been clear that the humans had expected them to turn all of them into toads or something like that. The elf shook his head darkly. There were a lot of men who believed the rumours that all elves possessed and practised dark magic, and these had apparently been no exceptions.  
  
But it hadn't seemed to him as if they had been afraid of them because they were elves, but rather as if they were used to being afraid of anyone who came into their village. It might have been his imagination, but he thought that the fear on the humans' faces had even grown when they had told them the name of their lord's residence, and before they had been able to learn the name of their liege himself the man whom they had been speaking to had closed the door in their faces.   
  
"Do you think they spoke the truth, my lord?" the silver haired elf finally asked softly, looking at Glorfindel. "They were afraid."   
  
"No," the elf lord shook his head. "They were not afraid. They were terrified. And not of us."   
  
"Well, they don't exactly live in the safest of places," Elladan interjected. "It is only understandable that they mistrust any who come into their village."   
  
"That may be true," Celylith nodded. "But can we trust them?"   
  
"Why should they lie about something like that?" Elladan retorted. "They merely told us the name of their lord's city and where to find it, that is all."   
  
"I agree," Glorfindel said quietly. "They might have been afraid or even terrified, but they had no reason to lie to us. Perhaps the Lord of Baredlen can help us find our friends."   
  
"And if he cannot?" Elrohir asked softly.   
  
"If he cannot," the older elf shrugged, "We will keep looking until we find them."   
  
The three younger elves nodded silently and stared into the flames, and Glorfindel bowed his head slightly and took a deep breath.   
"Eat something and take some rest. We all need some sleep or we won't be of any use to us or to Estel and the prince in the next few days. I will take first watch."   
  
"And will conveniently forget to wake any of us for the next watch," Elrohir shook his head with a small smile. "You have used this trick too many times in the past, my friend. We are no longer elflings you need to protect and shelter at all cost, my Lord Glorfindel. I will take first watch."   
  
"I do not think you to be elflings, Elrohir," the golden haired elf shook his head. "You are warriors, and good ones at that. Yet you and your brother are also my best friend's sons and have been my friends for many years. Allow an old elf to be a little over-protective."   
  
"And let's not forget that that's a trait two elves who shall remain nameless are also more than familiar with," Celylith interjected slyly. "I am sure that I've heard Estel complain about your over-protectiveness once or twice."   
  
"Did you now?" Elladan arched a dark eyebrow. "I really think we need to have a discussion with that reckless brother of ours. A very long, very serious discussion."   
  
"I agree," Elrohir nodded. "And after that discussion, we will have another one with Legolas. And after _that_, we will drag them to Lórien to grandmother and ask her to put them on top of one of the giant _mellyrn _and take away the ropes and ladders."   
  
"Are you mad?" Celylith asked, almost choking on a piece of lembas. "They would fall off and break every bone in their bodies."   
  
"Hmm," the younger twin made thoughtfully. "What about the dungeons back in Mirkwood?"   
  
"No," Elladan shook his head. "There might be a cave-in – not that the palace _is _a cave, of course," he added quickly when he saw the wood-elf's murderous look. "What about their rooms in Imladris?"   
  
"Nay," Glorfindel grinned. "They would try to escape over the balconies, lose their balance, fall into the Bruinen and drown."   
  
"Wood-elves do not 'lose their balance'," Celylith informed the three other elves icily.   
  
"Of course not," Glorfindel nodded with a small sparkle in his deep blue eyes. "You have to remind me to tell you about that time long before either of you were born when King Oropher and his son visited. The dear Lord Thranduil did far more than 'lose his balance', trust me."   
  
"The king?" Celylith asked, eyes round and unbelieving.   
  
"Oh yes," Glorfindel nodded, but before he could begin to elaborate he remembered the role he himself had played that evening – and the _look _on the High King Gil-galad's face – and closed his mouth with a snap. Some things weren't meant for a broader public. "But that will have to wait for another time. Elrohir, you have the first watch."   
  
Before either of the three could say anything, the elf lord had disappeared in the darkness, no doubt looking for his pack he had left with Asfaloth. Elladan looked at his brother and friend and slowly shook his head, looking like a person who had, for the umpteenth time, come close to a goal only to have it snatched back time and again.   
"He always does that."   
  
"Sometimes I think that the whole balrog-business has addled his mind," Elrohir nodded darkly.   
  
"Well, yours are addled anyway," Celylith snorted softly and stood up. Brushing off the snow that clung to his clothing, he took up his blanket and eyed the large tree next to the fire. A moment later, he was sitting on a sturdy branch, grinning down at the two Noldor beneath him. "Wake me in a few hours, will you? And don't let Rashwe bite you!"   
  
The silver haired head disappeared in the darkness of the shadows the branches cast and was accompanied by a small snicker, and the twins looked at each other, the same outrage and annoyance on their identical faces.   
"Remind me again why you insisted that we take that wood-elf with us," the older twin demanded to know.   
  
"I?" Elrohir asked appalled. "I? It was you who got … tangled up with him!"   
  
"But you invited him!" Elladan retorted, getting to his feet as well. He quickly began to climb the tree, but climbed higher than aforementioned wood-elf when a low, unwilling growl could be heard from Celylith's branch. He finally found a suitable spot and grinned at his younger brother. "You didn't think I would stay on the ground while that demon-horse is on the loose, did you?"   
  
"But you leave me here alone?!"   
  
"Aye," Elladan shrugged and leaned back against the tree. "You can look after yourself."   
  
Another snicker could be heard from Celylith, and a second later silence settled over the camp that was only interrupted by Elrohir's low mumbling. After the younger twin had told the fire what exactly he would do to his brother and friend once they stooped to coming down from their stupid tree, he fell silent as well, his thoughts quickly straying to his brother and friend.   
  
He was going out of his mind with worry for both of them, but the greater part of his anxious musings was fixed on his younger brother. They knew that the men had wanted Legolas alive, after all, for whatever reason. Aragorn, however, was merely an addition, and these humans might not need – or want – his brother alive. What if they killed him, what if they killed both of them before they could reach them? What if Elladan and he were once again too late?   
  
Elrohir shook his head quickly. They would not be too late. They would not return to Mirkwood with Legolas' body, or home with Estel's. It would not happen. They had Glorfindel with them, the warrior who had slain a balrog and had faced the Witch-king of Angmar, and Celylith wasn't to be trifled with when angry either. They would not fail, they _must _not fail. They would find that city, and there would be _someone _who could tell them something of interest.   
  
Because otherwise his father would strangle them, Lord Thranduil would strangle them, and he would be stuck here with his companions and that demon-horse. Elrohir shuddered. No, that would not do at all.   


  
  
It was already past midnight when the door leading to the small, dark cell was thrown open and Legolas was shoved inside, stumbling forward until he hit the frail wooden construction of the cot opposite the door. The elf didn't move until the door had swung shut again and the darkness once again filled the small space.   
  
Legolas shook his head to clear it of the last shreds of the grey clouds that threatened to overcome his senses while he waited for his eyes to get used to the darkness. Those past few hours had been the longest of his life, he was entirely sure about that. Even despite what he had told Glamir, he had of course not told the small man the truth about Mirkwood's defences – or at least not the full truth. He had needed to divulge some small things to cover the greater lies and had tried to stay as close to the truth as possible, lest he got confused and tangled up in his own lies.   
  
All in all, it had been like dancing with a drunken mountain troll – you mustn't let your guard down even once or you could end up as a wet patch on the floor. There had been several times when Glamir hadn't believed him and had let the guards "refresh" his memory, and even more times when he had, at least for a second, forgotten what he had just told the man. Legolas inwardly shook his head. He was no councilman or something similar after all, and he wasn't exceptionally skilled at spinning tales.   
  
Still, Legolas knew that he had only bought them some time – and not much at that. Glamir was apparently not a military man and knew little to nothing about tactics, defences and strategies, but anyone who had served longer than two months in any army Legolas could think of would not need long to realise that what he had told the small man was nonsense. No, he thought despairingly. He gave them till about dawn today before they would realise that he had lied to them, and then…   
  
At this point, his eyes adjusted enough for him to see the outlines of his cell, and all these thoughts faded from his mind when his eyes came to rest on a crumpled figure in one of the corners no more than five feet to his left.   
"Strider!" he breathed and began to crawl over to the body of his friend, inwardly praising the Valar that the men had bound his hands in front of him this time. He finally reached the human's side and, after a second's hesitation, reached out with his hands to turn him over.   
  
Even though he was prepared for what he would see, he was still shocked at the sight in front of him. Now that he was up close, he realised that the wounds that covered his friend's body were indeed holes; nearly perfectly round, not so little holes. That … man must have used a spike or something like that, he thought horrified while he placed his fingers against the young man's throat. He let out a sigh of relief when his trembling hands found a pulse, a pulse that was far too fast and weak in his opinion.   
  
An all-encompassing helplessness washed over him as he examined the man further. Aragorn's skin was clammy and cold to the touch, and his breathing sounded laboured and not normal at all. The elf swallowed hard. A Elbereth, how much he wished a healer to be here right now! He would even take Hithrawyn right now, or even Lord Elrond who would surely kill him for allowing his youngest son to get hurt like this – he would take anyone or anything that would be able to help Aragorn. He was no healer, and he simply did not know what to do. The young ranger had lost too much blood, that much he could see himself, but what could he do for him in a small, damp cell without herbs or even water?   
  
Legolas shook his head in annoyance after a second and forced himself to concentrate. What he did _not _need to do now was to panic, that was clear. The fair haired elf shortly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to think of where he was and what would happen to Aragorn if he could not help him. Maybe, a small, dark voice in his head spoke up, it was even better this way. Maybe it was better if Estel died before Girion found out that he had been deceived, before Teonvan came back and continued where he had left off…   
  
With an almost violent shake of his head Legolas returned to reality and began to rip strips out of his own shirt, burning with shame at his own thought. No, it would not be better, and there was still the chance that they escaped, somehow – though he truly could not see how. Still, he would not just let the ranger die just like that, he thought fiercely. If Aragorn wanted to leave him so soon, he would have to fight him every step of the way, because he would not allow that stubborn human to leave him just like that!   
  
There wasn't much of his shirt left to rip to pieces anyway, and so he had soon a small pile of ragged, makeshift bandages next to him. For a moment, Legolas didn't know where to start, but then he decided with a small, trembling smile that might have developed into panic had he allowed it to that it didn't matter. He didn't have any water anyway, so cleaning the cuts was out of the question. Yesterday they had received water in the morning, so that meant he had several more hours before he could even think about really doing something.   
  
With another heavy sigh he folded a piece of cloth and pressed it against one of the wounds that had started bleeding again when he had moved the man. Aragorn did not stir, something that Legolas greeted with a short prayer of thanks. The last thing he needed now was to cause his friend any additional pain. The elf quickly worked on, but he ran out of bandages long before he had even tended half the injuries. All he could do was bandage the worst of the wounds and pray that those he couldn't bind wouldn't open again, because he really didn't know what he would do then.   
  
Far too quickly he applied the last bandage and sat back on his haunches, deciding with some trepidation that, if anything, Aragorn looked even worse than before. The few bloodstained bandages only served to emphasise the rest of his injuries, and he somehow looked even paler than he had looked in the beginning – and that could simply not be good.   
He decided that lying on the damp stone floor was another thing that could not be good for a human after losing so much blood, and so Legolas gathered the man in his arms and pulled him backwards until his back touched the wall. He winced when his bare skin touched the damp stones, but the cold also numbed his bruises and abrasions, something for which he was rather thankful. Glamir had indeed got rather impatient during the end.   
  
The elf sighed softly and brushed a strand of dark hair away from his friend's face. This was it. He didn't know what to do, he simply didn't know a way out of this prison. If they had had the chance to escape earlier, it had faded completely now. Aragorn wasn't in the condition to go anywhere, let alone fight if necessary, and he couldn't leave the ranger behind.   
  
"Oh Estel," he whispered softly to his friend in the Old Tongue. "How do we do it? Our fathers are right, aren't they? As soon as we leave the palace or your father's house, something terrible befalls us. I swear by Elbereth's stars that I will never again insist on going anywhere alone if we get out of this. You were right, I should have taken an escort with me; I shouldn't have gone alone…"   
  
For a long time the elven prince merely continued speaking softly to his human friend, talking about various mishaps they had already survived and about anything that came to his mind, when, about three hours after he had been brought back to the cell, he lost his patience. What would he do if Aragorn could not be roused, he asked himself panicky, what if the ranger slipped into an unnatural sleep? From what he had heard from the twins such things happened far more frequently to humans than to elves, and if that was the case here, Aragorn would most certainly die. He felt the man's forehead once more, frowning in concern when he felt an unnatural heat there, a heat he could not explain to himself.   
  
"Estel!" he spoke sharply. "Will you listen to me now?! You have to return to me, I am getting … bored, yes that is it! Do you want me to stay the rest of the night here alone, in the dark? Please, wake up, my friend. I could use some company now! Strider! Awake!"   
  
He did not really expect the man to react, for he had been trying for hours to get him to wake up, and so he was quite startled when he first heard a small moan and then felt how the still body in his arms began to stir as his friend's mind struggled to return to consciousness. Legolas shifted slightly to the side to be able to look into the man's face, just in time to see his friend's eyes open slowly.   
  
Aragorn didn't move or even blink for a long time, even though he stiffened instantly when he felt the proximity of another person. His grey eyes were frighteningly vacant and emotionless, but an expression of alarm and fear was quickly beginning to spread on his face.   
"Estel?" Legolas asked quickly, looking at his friend worriedly. "Telcontar?"   
  
The softly spoken Quenya word seemed to calm the man slightly, but his head did not turn into the direction of the elf's voice and his eyes continued to wander over the dark room.   
"Laiqualassë?" he whispered, his voice so soft that Legolas could hardly understand him. Even despite the pain that clouded his mind, he remembered that it had seemed important to speak Quenya, even though he truly couldn't remember why. _"Narelyë … sinomë?"_   
  
The elf tightened his hold on his friend and nodded quickly, resting his chin on the top of Aragorn's head, hoping that to be a spot that didn't hurt the man.   
_"Nányë aselyë, meldonya,"_ he told the ranger in his most soothing voice. Noticing the way the man's eyes darted through the dark room, he added quickly, _"Avániës, áva rucë." _  
  
Aragorn's body seemed to relax instantly, only to stiffen again when the pain made itself known. A second later full recollection of what had happened set in and he tried to turn around in the elf's grasp, freezing in mid-motion when his body let him know what exactly it thought of such folly.   
"You … you didn't, did you?" he demanded to know, using all his strength to turn his head and look Legolas in the face. "You did not … tell them?"   
  
The elf smiled slightly, a faintly mischievous sparkle in his eyes the man couldn't see in the darkness that filled the room.   
"I did." A frown flittered over the man's face, and so he quickly added, "I told them what they wanted to hear; I did not tell them the truth."   
  
"They will know," Aragorn muttered, trying to suppress a shiver. "They will know."   
  
"Nay, my friend," Legolas lied to the man. "I made it convincing enough. I merely … confused a few things. How many warriors we have, where the guard posts are, how to get into the palace – things like that." He grinned slightly, hoping to put his friend at ease. "If they plan to attack Mirkwood with this information, they will all march straight to the Enchanted River and fall in – if they're not eaten by spiders first, that is. I think I forgot to mention that they have quite a few nests in that area."   
  
The man tried to grin as well, but another shiver raced through him, wiping all traces of mirth off his face in an instant. Legolas pulled the man even closer and plucked up all the courage he had to ask his friend the one question he had been dreading ever since he had found him.   
"Estel," he began softly, "Teonvan, he…" He trailed off, took a deep breath and tried again. "Did he … did he touch you?"   
  
For a few moments, it was silent, and Legolas even thought that Aragorn had lost consciousness again, but then the man moved his head in a minute headshake.   
"No," he retorted quietly. "I lost consciousness for a few minutes in the strange room with that small man, and came to when they threw me in here. After that everything gets a little bit … fuzzy." The man fell silent for a second, and Legolas rested his head against the wall and said a prayer of thanks, about the fifth or sixth this evening. "He was very much looking forward to it though," the young ranger added faintly. "He has a rather … detailed imagination, I'll grant him that."   
  
"Not for long," Legolas ground out. "I will kill him."   
  
"Get in line," Aragorn muttered weakly and closed his eyes. "I have a certain aversion to him myself."   
  
The elf saw the ranger's eyes close and was about to shake him gently when he remembered the other's injuries, and so he merely tapped him on the head with his bound hands.   
"Don't go to sleep, Estel. You are running a fever, I don't know why either."   
  
"It must be that liquid Teonvan is so fond of," the dark haired man answered without opening his eyes. "A rather … horrid brew – burnt quite a lot every time."   
  
It took Legolas a few seconds to fully comprehend what Aragorn had just said, but when he did he had to consciously unclench his jaw to stop himself from grinding his teeth into dust. That … that man had first put holes into his friend and had then… The elf stopped himself just there. There was no reason to follow that train of thought further; it would help neither Aragorn nor himself if he lost his temper now.   
  
"I am so sorry," he whispered, resting his chin once again on the other's dark hair. "I should have told them sooner. I am so very sorry, Estel."   
  
"They wouldn't have believed you," Aragorn retorted practically. "Had you told them right away, they wouldn't have believed a single word."   
  
Legolas frowned darkly, glad that the darkness hid his features and the man was facing away from him. He wasn't so sure about that – besides, they would still not believe him. Girion might be a madman, but he was no fool. The elf was sure that the dark haired lord's subjects were too afraid to wake him in the night, but tomorrow morning he would read Glamir's report and then…   
  
The elf realised a few moments later that Aragorn had fallen silent and tapped him on the head again.   
"Strider! Are you awake?"   
  
The man didn't answer but merely moved his head, having neither the strength nor the inclination to move more muscles than he had to. Apart from the fact that most of them were slightly … perforated … at the moment, he thought with a small inward chuckle, he was much too cold to move away from Legolas whose body emitted a rather comforting warmth.   
  
"Then why are your eyes closed?" Legolas prodded him gently.   
  
Under any other circumstances, the man would have made a witty, sarcastic comment, but now he was too cold and in too much pain to come up with one.   
"Because then I can pretend that it's not dark. I … I don't like small, dark spaces. Not since … Eskadol."   
  
The elf smiled ruefully. That was something they had in common.   
"I know you don't. I am not overly fond of them either." The man did not answer and Legolas felt another shiver race through his cold frame, which, in addition to the building heat that emanated from his forehead, was enough to multiply his worry tenfold. "Rest, Estel. You will need your strength. Just lean against me and keep your eyes closed. I will not leave you."   
  
Legolas felt a small vibration against his chest, and it took him a moment to realise that Aragorn was laughing soundlessly.   
"And where would you go?" the young man muttered exhaustedly. "There's still …the fire-breathing dragon…"   
  
Despite everything, the fair haired elf smiled and gently touched the other's closed eyes.   
"Yes, of course. The fire-breathing dragon. Rest, reckless human. I will keep watch."   
  
Aragorn moved his head again and silence fell over the small cell, and Legolas leaned once again back against the damp stone wall, his thoughts in turmoil. Aragorn was far too weak to withstand another "meeting" with Teonvan – and that "meeting" would come, there was nothing he could do to prevent that. He had bought them some time, yes, but he had no way to use it in any way, which was perhaps the most frustrating thing of all.   
  
Some time later, Aragorn fell asleep again, and Legolas saw no reason to try and keep him awake. It appeared that the ranger hadn't suffered a serious head injury, and so he didn't see why he should deprive him of his rest and force him to stare at the dark walls of their prison. Besides, it was better if he slept than be aware and endure such kind of pain.   
  
When he was imagining for the thirty-seventh time what he would do to Teonvan if he ever got his hands on him, he heard something very peculiar: The sounds of someone nearing their cell. It were definitely human footsteps, but they were quite a lot softer than the guards'. The man seemed to walk past their door, only to return a few seconds later and stop in front of it, and the next thing the elf heard was the rattling of what had to be a bunch of keys.   
  
Legolas unconsciously pulled his sleeping friend closer to him, trying to push himself in front of him to shield him from view. Whoever was unlocking the door right now couldn't be a friend, and he did not intend to let these people hurt Aragorn further. If they wanted to get to the man, they would have to go through him – which they probably would, but that was entirely beside the point.   
  
A second later a key clicked in the lock and the door swung open, revealing a sight Legolas had not reckoned with at all.  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_mellon nín (S.) - my friend  
mellyrn (pl. of mallorn) (S.) - the large golden-leaved trees of Lothlórien  
Narelyë sinomë (Q.) - Are you here?  
Nányë aselyë, meldonya (Q.) - I am with you, my friend  
Avániës, áva rucë (Q.) - He is gone, don`t be afraid  
  
  
  
  
_**See? It's only a little cliffy, nothing too bad. And it's only a week till the next post, isn't that great? *ducks a shower of sharp, potentially lethal objects* Tsk, tsk, tsk, you guys need a lot more self-restraint... *g* So, the next chapter will be here in a week, in which we see who is visiting our dear heroes and a lot more! Reviews, as always, make me exceedingly happy! So: Review? Please!  
  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
Isadora2** - Hmm, ja, die meisten sind aufgetaucht, aber ein paar sind auch verschwunden, never to be seen again. *g* Man muss ff.net doch einfach lieben, nech? Einen Versuch war das ganze auf jeden Fall wert, auch wenn's nicht so ganz geklappt hat... Du hast "The Passion of Christ" gesehen? Das ist ein Film, in den du mich noch nicht mal gefesselt mit zehn Pferden 'reinbekommen wuerdest! Was fuer eine Branche ist denn das? Und wie komme ich da 'rein? Ich liebe Filme und ich liebe London, das waere ja richtig was fuer mich! *g*   
**Deana** - You cringed? Well, I have done _something_ right then, haven't I? *evil grin* And I am very glad to hear that my decriptions are very descriptive - they're suppposed to be that, so... *g* I'm afraid Legolas won't meet our friends the spikes, at least not in the next few chapters. Sorry about that. *g*  
**Aratfeniel** - LOL, you're right! It's all about the past - they all need to get themselves a good psychiatrist! And how did you know that the healers would have a hard time? You're psychic! *g*  
**Ellyrianna** - Uhm, what am I doing to you? I don't really know, but you really shouldn't huggle Aragorn too hard. I don't think he's up to it. I really hope that I didn't kill you, I assure you it was not my intention. And I really can't tell you why you love Legolas so much. That's between you and him, I think. *g* But I can happily admit that I like stubble as well! *g* It's nice to hear that you're enjoying the torture. There a little more to come, too!  
**Snow-Glory** - Nope, elves don't like the dark too much, do they? Absolutely undestandable, too if you ask me. The city isn't very nice either, you're right. *g* But you really don't have to worry: They will live to tell the twins about their latest foolishness - although I am not making any promises as to in what shape they'll be...  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Uhm, it's not a compliment? Well, you could have fooled me... And Aragorn never did anything to me - except being so adorably stupid, that is. it's his own fault, you see? Glad you understand, though, I hate brown myself. I truly can't see why the Wood-elves like it so much. *shakes head* You don't like Glamir? Well, I like him, in an evil, twisted kind of way... *g* LOL, Girion is indded rather modest, isn't he? I mean, he could have wanted Mirkwood as well... I'll see what I can do about his horrible fate though! And I COULD give Teonvan to you guys in the end! But I guess that would be cruel and unusual punishment...  
**CrazyLOTRfan - ***g* I'd have been happy if we'd spent English class with playing ping-pong. But no, we had to study grammar and read Shakespeare and things like that... *g* Uhm, I have to admit that I don't really know what the muddy brown liquid is. Something like really salty iodine, I guess - minus the disinfecting properties... *evil grin* And I agree: The twins and Co. won't be overly happy to see them - then again, you assume that THEY are in a shape to fret over the two of them... *evil grin* Don't worry: Legolas will be quite mad about Aragorn's wounds. Quite mad indeed. *g*  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Sorry, I really think it didn't show up. And may I tell you something? You are really, REALLY scary. That grin looked quite evil. *nods* It really did. And the cofetti did nothing to change that impression, either... So you saw Hildalgo? I don't think I'll see it. I don't like horses or Cowboy-movies overly much, to be honest, and I usually don't watch movies only because of a specific actor. Not even because of Viggo Mortensen. *g*  
**Gwyn** - Uhm, I really hate to say that, but we've had lots of elf torture already? You know, chapter 15 and all that? I don't think Legolas or Aragorn will have another big torture scene in this story, sorry... But I really can't write more of them. I don't like writing them at all, and sooner or later I'd run out of ideas... *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - Yeah, I kinda figured that already. You ARE slightly obsessed with Legolas after all... *g* I agree, it would be only fair if Teonvan died like that, but I don't think I'd be able to come up with something much worse. No, I WOULD be able to, but I don't think I'd be able to put it into this story. It IS PG-13 after all... And yes, you have to wait at least till chapter 25 for the reunion, sorry. There's no way I can make it any sooner... And I know what you mean, I got about 120 review alerts for the 45 or something reviews there really were. It was very, very annoying. *g*   
**Teddybear888** - Well, thank you! It's very nice to know that you like this little story so far! Hmm, about the torture... Well, I don't really know. Some just ... comes to me, I guess. Some is something I've read in some history books (you wouldn't believe what people are willing to do to each other), and some aren't really my ideas, but my friend's or my sister's. They are quite evil, too. Thank you a lot for the review!  
**Sirithiliel** - *g* Great it all become a little clearer. And believe me, I am not about to complain about a late review since I am contantly late myself! *g*  
**Tychen** - Well, to be honest, he is ASKING for it. I don't know why, perhaps he's stupid, or masochistic or something, but he's so adorable! He's clearly asking for it, isn't he? I'm sure the hints were very subtle, but when you write the story and have known for ages how everythings's going to be, you find it hard to believe that everyone else DOESN'T know what is going to happen. Well, I find it hard anyway. *g* I think I've read a chapter or two of that fic, but I found it too Legolas-centric. I don't like unfairness. *g* And I am sorry to say that this was the last real torture in this fic, at least for Aragorn or Legolas. Sorry. *g*  
**Someone Reading** - I know what you mean. It's hard to find someone who can speak Sindarin. *g* It's also very nice to hear that you liked the chapter - and the torture, of course. And I indeed had to hurt him, because my alter ego made me. She's really evil, I'm telling you... Hmm, about that little sentence... I hate to say it, but I think it wasn't correct. You mixed up Quenya and Sindarin. "Linte" is Quenya, "lint" is the plural of the adjective "linta", meaning "swift". You need an adverb though. So, in Quenya the whole thing would be something like "Á tecë lintav" or "Teca lintav", depending on which form of the imperative you wish to use. In Sindarin it would be something like "Teitho lagor" or even "Teitho lint", even though I have no idea where the movie-people got that one from. Derived it from Queya, most likely. There's a little problem though, namely that it's, strictly speaking, an adjective, not an adverb. The safest bet would probably be "Teitho lim", since that's definitely an adverb. And all that's only correct if, essentially, you wanted to say "Write quickly". If it was supposed to be a comparative, not an adverb, I'll have to do the whole think again.*g* Huge lecture again, sorry. *sheepish smile*  
**Elvendancer** - LOL, I think you're right. Girion and Teonvan are most likely very happy right about now... Aragorn and Legolas wouldn't really agree, I think, but what do THEY know, eh? *g*   
**Strider's Girl** - Oh, don't worry, we're all becoming a little like Gollum, I think. Perhaps LOTR causes schizophrenia? *shudders* Scary thought... I thought you'd like the ranger torture though. I would have been quite suprised if you hadn't, actually. *g* LOL, I like that idea! That would serve Teonvan right! And I imagine that too, btw: Aragorn screaming like a girl and running away from us. I don't know why he'd do that, but still. *g*  
**Aromene** - Well, to be honest, Legolas isn't really in the position to do something stupid, being in that cell and all. But I bet he'd LOVE to do something stupid... *g* I'm sorry I didn't post sooner, and hope the wait wasn't too horrible. *g*  
**Narina Nightfall** - *g* You're not horrible. I think of such things all the time - wait a minute, that could mean that we're both horrible! *g* And I know: The Evil Dudes always wait for the wounds to heal before they go and inflict new ones. *shakes head* They're evil, so what can one expect. *blinks* Oookay, I see. His hair colour surpasses every other colour. Riiiiight. You're sure you didn't forget to take your pills or something? *g* Glad to hear you liked the torture. I'm sometimes afraid to overdo it. Too much torture can destroy a story. LOL, the only reason why my lecture get to the point is that I don't have enough time or space to answer properly here. Otherwise I'd drone on for hours! And I'm sorry, I'm quite sure you weren't right, even though I'm prepared to admit that the Sindarin word for Súlë means wind as well. But since that wasn't the meaning I was looking for... *trails off sadly* Sorry.   
**Lina **- Uhm, I like your new outfit? Really, it's ...subtle. And ... green. Very ... camouflagy. *g* And I'm sure Aragorn appreciated the torch. Now that he has the Energizer batteries, what can go wrong? *winces* Oh, that was probably a really stupid thing to say, huh? *arches eyebrow* You're a fan of assymmetry? Well, I could have known, actually - but is it true? The thing with the scar, I mean? And ... *pats Éomer's back* I don't think the Rohirrim's entrance is boring! I think it's great! Don't worry, Éomer, you're doing a wonderful job! *huggles depressed Rohir*  
**Zam** - *tries to imagine Zam with fairy wings* *fails miserably* Alriiiiight.... LOL, so Éomer joined the Empire, huh? Really, if we meet Luke and Han I'm leaving... *snickers* Uhm, to defend Aragorn, I don't think he forgot what species he is. It's just one of these I-grew-up-with-the-elves-thing, you know? Silly ranger. *shakes head* I'm very happy to see that Girion decided to leave Erebor alone. Conquering it just might have been a mistake... *g* Oh, the remote can do that? I didn't know that... *walks off looking for the 'Make Looks Kill Button' on her remote*  
**Karone Evertree** - Indeed, indeed, what is the world coming to? O tempora, o mores... *evil grin* And I agree: In the end the evil guys must all die. I'm already working on it, trust me...  
**Stacee Phelps** - Excuse me? That was barely any? I think that was plenty! You know, for me that was lots! I really, really hate writing torture and it takes me ages to write a bit, so I am very sorry, but there won't be much more in the future, at least not in this story and not for Aragorn or Legolas. Sorry, but it would take me too long. *g* And I'm rather surprised that you liked AEFAE so much; if I read it now I am constantly cringing! Literally...   
**Marbienl** - Well, as you saw last chapter Girion wasn't too displeased about Reran's demise, which once again proves that he's an idiot. About the languages: I guess the twins' first language is indeed Sindarin, or rather Noldorin, which is a kind of dialect. Elrond's mother tongue would be Quenya, I guess, since his ancestors were mostly Noldorin and I guess they wouldn't have been too quick to start using Sindarin. But generally Sindarin was the Elvish language still spoken in the Third Age, at least in ME; Quenya was reserved for formal occasions. Hmmm, I'm sorry, but Estel won't really have time to lose it completely. Besides, a mental breakdown would just be a little but too inconvenient... *g* I have no idea what that liquid is though, I'm not a doctor. And no, my alter ego wouldn't be that evil. *g*  
**Suzi** - Wow! Huge review! Thank you! *huggles* But speak no more! *holds up hand* I know how evil BT can be. They're just ... evil? *stupid grin* I know, I know, I need a larger vocabulary. I envy you, btw. Nothing new there, but I've always wanted to visit Runnymede. I've heard a lot about the college there. *wide eyes* Double chocolate chip chocolate sauce cookies and cream? Well, that does sound VERY interesting! We don't have these kinds of cookies here, and I am constantly missing them! And you're right, it was Saruman of course, but the Evil Dude doesn't know that. For him he's just from the South. LOL, Henry VIII. chopped off a lot of heads, didn't he? LOL, I like the "Plot Bunny Extermination Squad". It would be very useful, too. *g* And yes, of course I enjoy playing with you. I'm evil, remember? LOL, so Aragorn has RRS and RSD? That's bad, really - it's a miracle he's still alive! And yes, of course Aragorn has a point in this story! I mean, doesn't he always? Who would write a pointless story? *thinks of Mary-Sues* On second thought, ignore that question... And you're right, there just might be a little bit Glorfindel-Glamir interaction. No, there WILL be some. There will also be other interaction, but I'm not telling! I dont't think that the dragon is Drákon, btw, but I'll go and check just to be sure. *huggles again* Thanks for the huge review, and I'm looking forward to the pics!  
**Cosmic Castaway** - *ducks knife* What do you mean, 'so called TBC'? They ARE TBC's! I mean, here's the next bit, see? Didn't you like the cliffy then? *innocently* But I admit that I'm evil and coldhearted. *sadly* It's the truth. I hope I didn't really kill you! *huggles*  
**Elenillor** - *g* He would be indeed. Sarcasm is what makes life interesting, that's what I always say! *frowns* I didn't make you excited for the next chapter? I am clearly doing something wrong then - what about this one? Excited? I hope so, otherwise I really have to try harder... *evil grin*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Ah, you managed to free yourself! Well done! *shakes hand* Congrats! And yes, you are definitely obsessed, but that's okay. There are far too few people obsessed with the twins and far too many with Legolas. Time to even the odds a little, hm? *g* LOL, yes indeed, Aragorn listened to the voice of reason for once. He may have one or two brain cells after all. And "Ow" about covers it, I think. *thinks about it* Yes, it does.  
**Nerfenherder** - *g* It took me quite a long time to come up with that, btw. I needed quite some time till I'd thought of a reason for the bad guy not to kill Aragorn on the spot - glad you approve! *blushes* Well, thank you! It's great to hear that you liked the other stories as well - and who hasn't a crush on Estel? I mean, I would have one too of he existed - that's always the problem, isn't it? *sighs* Real life is so unfair... Anyway, I'm glad you like it. Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Nikara** - Uhm, yes, I guess you could say that. I woudl imagine that hurt. *g* Yes, the twins are in here, and I am beginning to see that I'll have to put them in more often. People seem to like them. *evil grin* I can't imagine why, though.  
**Bailey** - Yes, it will continue a little this chapter. Not so much though, since I really don't enjoy writing torture. I hate it, actually. And there won't be much for Legolas, sorry, but we had elf torture already. I have to be fair, right? But you're right, Girion most certainly needs a psychiatrist. Or two, what about that? *g*   
**Crippled Raven** - You want the recipe to use it on your big brother? Well, I don't think that would be such a good idea... *backs away slowly* But really, it sounds as if your brother is just ... male? Just give him some time, he might mature a little - in a few years. God knows mine didn't. And if it makes you feel any better: I never was any good at it either. I couldn't calculate a vector if my life depended on it. I liked languages and history, but not Maths. *shudders* I hated it. Oh, and don't worry: Lots of people here call torture scenes nice or get fuzzy feelings while reading them. *shrugs* We're all insane here, after all. And I think you can safely say that Teonvan is more twisted than you. WAY more twisted, to be precise. I don't like him myself. Thanks a lot for the long review! *huggles*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Uhm ... well ... I'm sorry? I happen to like cliffies... I am also sorry that I didn't update sooner, I am just so busy at the moment. The thing is that I'm just not interested in the two papers, and I just don't want to do any research. But I have to! *wails* I don't wanna! Oh, and don't worry, I found another hiding spot. Inside our washing machine. It's a little bit cramped, but rather safe unless someone turns it on. *g*  
**Iverson** - Yes, we are? You can admit it, you know. It's nothing to worry about. *g* And once again: Who says that the twins and Co. will rescue our intrepid duo? I mean, I said they'd arrive there, but I don't think I said anything about a rescue... *evil grin* And if course you can start a Not Insane Club if you want to. I mean, you wouldn't find many candidates for it here, but still... But denial is good. I love denial. Denial is my friend. If you needed proof that I am, in fact, insane, it's just presented itself. *g*   
**Jenihenpen** - Hmm... with all their bits attached - I can do that I think. Minds not completely caved in - that could be difficult... *evil grin* But I'll see what I can do, don't worry. *blinks* I have been called evil, mean, sadistic, insane, mad, three fries short of a Happy Meal and many other things, but I don't think I've ever been called a Blue Meanie. I'll endeavour to take it as a compliment though! *g*  
**Elenora1** - *wide-eyed* I had YOU squirming? Well, that means quite a lot, methinks... *g* I can't stop you from squirming and holding your breath of course, but I can tell you that the evil lord won't find out who Legolas is for a while. Let's say, not till ... hmm, I think ch. 24. So, don't worry overly much yet, okay? And Glorfindel and Co. will arrive in ch. 23. Do you see a connection there? *evil grin* So, I hope you're a little calmer now... *imagines Real Life as a bear* Uhm, interesting comparison.... *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing, I really missed you! But I understand - Real LIfe can be a b****, right?  
**TrustingFriendship** - Yes, to be honest I haven't quite figured out yet what to do with the Easterlings. I mean, I have, but I haven't figured out HOW to do it yet... *shrugs* We'll see. And "Poor Aragorn" about sums it up, I think, even though "Poor Legolas" is also appropriate. *evil grin*  
**ManuKu** - Manu! *knuddelt* Na, das ist doch mal 'ne schoene Ueberraschung! Ist giut zu wissen, dass du noch dabei bist und noch nicht aufgegeben hast... Was ich jedoch verstehen wuerde. *zuckt Schultern* Ich bin halt verrueckt. LOL, du hast recht, wieder mal der typische Fall vom *schon so gut wie toten* Boesewicht. Die lernen auch nicht, ne? *g* Natuerlich bin ich boese! Mhahahahah! *hustet* Wie dem auch sei. Danke fuer die Review, ich hatte dich schon vermisst!  
**Starlight** - Junge, Junge, Klausuren UND Intenet Probleme? Das ist ja richtig happig! Ich habe auch schon Angst, wir stellen naemlich demnaechst auf Arcor um. Doppelt so schnelles DSL, aber dafuer: Wer weiss schon, ob das alles klappt? Bei meinem Glueck geht das alles in die Hose... Ist doch schoen zu hoeren, dass du die Ranger Folter dann auch wenigstens geniesst. War mir aber eigentlich schon klar. *g* In diesem Kapitel kommt wirklich Legolas' Reaktion, keine Angst! Und der Keks war eigentlich zum Essen da, aber ich bin sicher er macht sich auch gut als Trophaee! *g*  
**Celebdil-galad/Tinlaure** - LOL, it pleases you greatly? Well, it pleases me too, and lots of people as well, even though I have the feeling that Legolas himself wouldn't agree. *shrugs* Spoilsport. Thanks for the review!  
**Jera** - Ack, I forgot to clarify that, huh? I meant it just the way it sounds, namely that Aragorn thinks that the Dwarves and Men are strange races. You know, one of these having-grown-up-in-Rivendell-things. I wanted to clarify it a little, but must have forgotten. Sorry. And you were right with Quenya - I have to admit that I don't speak Korean. English, German, Greek, Latin, a little Italian, a bit Sindarin and Quenya, but that's it, I'm afraid. But I'm starting with Spanish this year and want to learn Portuguese (I have an aunt living in Portugal). You can never speak too many languages, right? *g* LOL, I wouldn't advise you to follow Teonvan's example and throw your boss down a cliff! I just might get you into a little bit of trouble... *g* And I agree, they will _never_ learn when to be silent. They're too stupid for that. *shakes head* Hmm, Girion won't figure out who Legolas is till ch. 24, so don't worry. *blinks* You're beginning to like Teonvan? Really? I mean, I see why you like Sangwar, but not even I like Teonvan and I created him! Nah, I didn't like Lurtz. Three arrows, THREE, that's all I'm saying. And I did some research and found out that the English stole the blond/blonde from the French, which explains the gender change. You studied linguistics? Really? *slowly backs out of the room* I've got to go... *g* I am thinking about doing that too - Ancient Greek is not exactly something you can use in later life, right? About Legolas' age: No-one knows really. I don't accept the movie-people's age which they simply made up if you ask me. So, _I_ made one up too. *g* I'd say he's about 2600 or 2650 years old, slightly younger than the twins, closer to Arwen's age. I'd always thought he'd be younger than them, but hey, that's just me. *g*   
**Sabercrazy** - *dryly* I knew you would. I shouldn't have given it to you. *shakes head* My mistake. And the "Returning Wind" isn't even all that silly! I mean, "at-" as a prefix means "again" or "re-" as far as I can remember right now, and súlë can mean wind after all. So I guess you'd deserve half a clone. A Mini-clone! Like in Austin Powers! *g* It's good to hear that you liked the ranger ... angst. *blinks* You're serious? You can't be serious. You are? You are really _dreaming_ about this? I don't do that! I have never dreamt about my fics! Even though I have to admit that I did have this one dream in which I and Legolas, Aragorn and a few others tried to find a subway station, which was inexplicably closed after 10 pm. on Saturdays. And then we found it and it looked like the London Underground - very strange... *shakes head* Okay, just ignore that, will you? Great you like it so much though!  
  
**Once again sorry for posting so late! I hope you'll forgive me! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!  
  
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	22. Motive And Opportunity

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
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A/N**:  
  
**Well, I am sorry, but I don't have time for any stupid remarks right now. I just have spent 10 hours in the library researching political murders in the early years of the Weimar Republic (horrible topic, don't tell me), for the forth day in a row one might add, and today is my sister's band's first gig, something which I have to see, of course. *g*   
  
So I have to leave you again, sorry, but I'm sure you'll cope. I have the very bad feeling that you think my comments random and slightly insane anyway. *g*   
  
  
This chapter we find out who decided to drop by last chapter (and let me tell you, I am very pleased to see that most of you guessed the way you did), see Girion angry and have yet another little cliffy. I know, I'm on a roll right now. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please!**

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Chapter 22  
  
  
For a moment, Legolas felt very much as if the cell's ceiling had crashed down on him and a particularly large rock had hit him on the head.   
  
That would explain quite a few things, he thought darkly. For example the headache that had been persistently clinging to the insides of his temples, but also the fact that he was apparently beginning to suffer from delusions or apparitions. That was the only thing that could possibly explain … this.   
  
He blinked slowly as his eyes travelled over the figure standing on the threshold of the cell, holding a small, half-covered lantern. It quickly looked over its shoulder before stepping into the room, pulling the door closed behind it and fully uncovering the lantern once darkness had fallen again.   
  
Legolas had been about to say something, but the words died on his lips when his eyes had got used to the bright light once again. He had expected quite a lot of people, among them Teonvan, Glamir, Girion or even Cendan, but certainly not … a girl. More precisely, his still stunned mind supplied, it was the servant girl he had seen earlier today – no, yesterday – when they had been on their way to be introduced to the charming lord of this equally charming place.   
  
For a few seconds, he simply stared at the girl who had stepped closer now, her eyes large and anxious in her face. She wore a dark cloak over her grey and black uniform, but now she pulled back the hood, revealing a heart-shaped face that was pale and tense, but appeared determined enough. The girl returned his stare emotionlessly and quickly reached under her cloak, pulling out a knife and crouching down next to them.   
  
Instinctively, the elf tightened his hold on his unconscious friend and drew away from the perceived threat, causing the young woman to halt her movements and scowl at him.   
"I don't want to harm you. We have to hurry."   
  
If his stay in this place had taught Legolas anything, it was not to trust anyone.   
"Why?"   
  
The brown haired girl shook her head impatiently and moved closer to them again, her hand that was holding the knife moving swiftly forward and up, slicing neatly through the bonds that bound the elf's hands in front of him.   
"Because the guards will soon be back, that is why." She returned the knife to its sheath and stood up again, a large bunch of keys appearing in her hands. "Come. We must get away from here before they return to their posts."   
  
"Who are you?" Legolas retorted, using his now free hands to draw Aragorn closer to him.   
  
"Is it important?" the girl asked back, her accent reminding the fair haired elf of the accent of Reran and most of his men. She definitely was from this town, Legolas decided.   
  
"Yes," the elf replied, looking darkly at the young woman. "Even very important."   
  
"My name is Ethoani," the girl answered with a sigh and obviously resisted the urge to place her hands on her hips in a gesture of exasperation. "I am a chamber-maid working on the second level of the castle, and if you want to live, you'll come with me. Does that answer your question?"   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head stubbornly. This could very well be a game, a trap, something to trick him into telling these people what they wanted to know. He would not trust this woman with his life, and, more importantly, he wouldn't trust her with Aragorn's life. "No, it does not. What is a chamber-maid doing here in the dungeons?"   
  
"Saving your lives," the girl answered impatiently. "I do not have time for answering questions right now, Master Elf. Either you come with me, or I will leave without you."   
  
"Why should I trust you?" Legolas asked, ignoring the young woman's words.   
  
"Because you and your friend will die if you don't," the girl replied. "I heard Teonvan has taken an interest in the two of you." She shook her head sadly. "Trust me, it's not going to be a pretty or clean death either. I know what I am talking about."   
  
In retrospect, it was probably Teonvan's name more than anything else that prompted Legolas to accept the girl's offer. In a matter of seconds he was on his feet despite the pain that throbbed through his body, one arm looped firmly around his unconscious friend's waist. He looked up once he had made sure that Aragorn wouldn't slip out of his grasp, straight into the wide blue eyes of the young woman which seemed far older than they should have.   
  
"Can you carry him for a long way?" she asked impassively. "If you cannot, he will have to remain here."   
  
Legolas glared darkly at her and took a deep breath, having to work hard not to lose his temper.   
"I can carry him."   
  
Ethoani merely nodded at him and turned to the door, once again covering the small lantern with the edge of her cloak. Before she could unlock the door, Legolas took a step forward, his eyes boring into the young woman's.   
"Why do you do this?" he asked softly. "You are risking your life by being here. Why are you helping us?   
  
For a moment, the elf saw fear, nervousness and uncertainly in the girl's eyes before the indifferent mask once again slipped into place.   
"Because Girion wants you," she answered simply. "That is enough."   
  
Legolas didn't truly know what the young woman was talking about, but he didn't really care either. As long as they got out of here, he didn't care about this mysterious girl's motives. For all he cared, she could be doing this as a hobby – which was highly unlikely, he admitted that to himself, but still.   
  
A moment later, he heard the key move in the lock, and with a noise that sounded as loud as the screeching of a great eagle the door swung open again. Legolas was expecting a contingent of guards to come storming around the next corner, but it seemed that the noise had only appeared overly loud to his own, over-anxious ears. No-one seemed to have heard anything, and so they stepped out into the corridor without being noticed. The girl closed the door behind them, the turning of the key once again sounding impossibly loud to the elf, and soon they were hurrying down the corridor before they turned to the left into a smaller, narrow passage.   
  
Legolas soon lost his bearings while they were navigating through that maze of corridors and passages, and he quickly concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other and somehow carrying Aragorn's weight as well. He knew it wasn't possible since they had been given only little food, but for a moment he would have sworn that the human had put on weight. He frowned, wholly concentrated on not losing sight of the girl who was walking in front of them. He would have to think about that...   
  
He was so deeply in thought that, from one moment to the next, he looked up to see that the girl … Ethoani, yes, that was her name, had ... disappeared. The elf stopped in mid-motion, barely managing to keep Aragorn from falling to the floor. Legolas tightened his hold around the human's waist. Where in the name of the Valar had she gone?   
  
While he was still musing if this had all been a kind of elaborate joke after all, the girl's head appeared apparently out of the wall, wearing an anxious and at the same time annoyed expression.   
"If you have changed your mind, just say so. I can even take you back to your cell if you wish it."   
  
Had Legolas been in a calmer and more patient state of mind, he would most probably even have appreciated her attempt at humour, but with the things being as they were, he was anything but amused. Mumbling a Sindarin curse under his breath, the elven prince stepped closer, only now realising that Ethoani was standing in what looked like a hole in the wall that was covered by a tapestry that reached from ceiling to floor.   
  
The girl pulled the fabric to the side to let the elf and the ranger he carried pass and anxiously looked left and right to check if no-one had followed them, and that small gesture somehow appeased the fair haired elf. This young woman wasn't trying to be overly smart or funny, she was merely scared out of her mind. She was risking much, no, probably everything by aiding them to escape, and that gave her in Legolas' opinion the right to make a few bad jokes. Besides, he'd endured much worse jests from Aragorn and his brothers.   
  
The hole they were standing in didn't reach far into the stone wall, and even when the girl let the curtain fall back into place Legolas had no trouble seeing that they were only a few feet away from a large, wooden door. Ethoani all but shoved him further aside, walked up to the iron-mounted door and began to search through the keys that hung on a large metal ring on her belt. The metal keys rattled on the ring, a noise almost unbearably loud to the elf's keen ears, until after what felt like an eternity the girl found the right one and turned it in the lock.   
  
If the chamber-maid felt any relief, she did not show it, but simply pushed open the door and stepped to the side, allowing the elf to pass her by. A few moments later, the door was locked again and they hurriedly walked down the dark, long tunnel that had opened up before them, the only light being the small lantern the girl carried.   
  
For a while, Legolas followed the young woman silently, all his thoughts concentrated on holding Aragorn and himself upright and moving, but then he decided that he could just as well try and distract himself from the pain that was beginning to spread through his body. Besides, he might have accepted Ethoani's offer, but he didn't trust her.   
"Where did you get the keys to our cell and this door?" he finally asked, watching her face closely.   
  
"I am a chamber-maid," the brown haired girl answered curtly with a small, wry smile. "I have many keys."   
  
"Hardly the keys to a secret passage and to a cell in your lord's dungeons," Legolas retorted, equally dryly.   
  
"He is not my lord!" the girl hissed and whirled around, a hateful expression on her face. "He is a tyrant and a murderer, nothing more!"   
  
"You will hear no objections from me," Legolas said quickly, taken aback by the intensity of the hatred on the young woman's face. This was the first real reaction he had seen from any of this city's inhabitants, and it was one he could understand completely, too. "I agree with your assessment of his character. Still, you did not answer my question."   
  
The brown haired girl narrowed her eyes at the elf and turned back around, continuing to walk down the corridor. For a moment, Legolas thought she wouldn't answer him, but then her voice could be heard, sounding calm and a little bit mocking once again.   
"It took us a long time to collect them," she offered in a manner of explanation. "And even longer to find out about the secret passages. We still know just about approximately a third of them; there are many, many more. The masters of this castle have ever been paranoid and over-cautious."   
  
"'We'?" Legolas asked as he struggled to keep up with her. "Who is we?"   
  
"A group of people who share my views of Girion and his family," Ethoani said darkly, a shadow seemingly falling over her face. "We are not many, but enough to keep informed about what goes on in the castle." She paused for a second. "That is where I'm taking you. The others will decide what to do with you."   
  
It took Legolas' tired brain a moment to truly understand what the girl had said, but when he did he looked up sharply, his eyes cold and cautious in his bruised face.   
"What do you mean by that? Do the 'others' not know what you are doing?"   
  
"No, Master Elf, they do not," Ethoani answered without stopping or turning around. "I saw you arriving yesterday and did not have the opportunity to inform or ask anyone. I simply saw my chance and took it. I may only be a woman, but I am currently the only one of our people here who has both the experience and the means to move freely in the castle."   
  
"What happened to the last one?" Legolas asked, already knowing what the answer would be.   
  
The girl walking in front of him stiffened almost imperceptibly, and her voice was emotionless and as cold as ice when she answered.   
"He died. He was discovered seven months ago, tortured and finally executed."   
  
"I am sorry," the elf said softly, meaning every word of it. After having spent an evening in Glamir's company, he felt pity for every single one of the small man's victims.   
  
"So am I," Ethoani retorted. "Believe me, so am I."   
  
Silence fell once again as they continued to walk – or, in Legolas' case, stumble – down the narrow passageway that was beginning to slope upwards, something that filled the elf's heart with the first spark of hope he'd felt in a long time. That could only mean that they were nearing the exit of the tunnel, couldn't it? Suddenly he felt like running, even though he knew that he wouldn't have been up to it even if he hadn't had to carry Aragorn's weight. He would see the stars again, or at least the sky!   
  
"Where does this tunnel end?" he asked his guide, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Outside of the castle walls?"   
  
"Aye," the girl nodded. "It has its end in an abandoned shop a few dozen yards away from the outer wall. It's close enough to a tavern so that no-one would get suspicious if there are people on the street after dark. The guards patrol there seldom since it's so close to the castle and its soldiers, and if they do come there, they usually stop at the tavern. If we are quick, we should manage to pass there unnoticed."   
  
"Where are you taking us?" the elf demanded to know, pain, tiredness and anxiety causing him to become slightly irritated. "Far from that store?"   
  
"You'll see," Ethoani answered cryptically and raised the lamp a little, shedding a cone of light on another heavy door. She fumbled for the ring key ring on her belt and added, "You do not expect me to trust you, do you?"   
  
"Well," Legolas shot back, "I don't really care if you trust me, since I do not trust you or your people either."   
  
The girl looked up from the keys and gave the elf a grimace that was probably meant to be a smile, but looked more than a frown. Once again Legolas was reminded of her youth and of the fact that she too was apparently in far over her head.   
  
"I see your point." She found the right key, turned it in the lock and looked back at the elf. "No, it is not very far. A mere fifteen minutes." She trailed off and shot the unconscious ranger in the elf's grasp a quick look. "Well, maybe twenty."   
  
Legolas followed her gaze and looked at his unconscious friend. The ranger's head had sunken forward onto Legolas' shoulder, and what was visible from behind dark, disarrayed strands of hair was so pale that the elf was sure he could see the blood move beneath the white skin. The young man's skin was beginning to feel positively scalding hot, and Legolas was beginning to suspect that Glamir had cheated him after all. Maybe this … liquid Teonvan had poured into Aragorn's wounds was poisonous, something the small man must have known but forgotten to mention.   
  
"He needs a healer," he told the young woman urgently. "He will die if he isn't tended soon."   
  
"And _we _will die if we don't leave now," Ethoani retorted as she pulled the door open and motioned the elf to move forward. "We will do what we can for him once we reach our destination, but if we linger here longer we will all find ourselves back in that cell of yours faster than you can even blink. I don't know how long the escape will remain unnoticed, I hope for several more hours, but I do not intend to put it to the test."   
  
Legolas ground his teeth but knew she was right, and so he stepped through the door, taking care not let the ranger slide out of his grasp. While the girl was locking the door once more, he quickly cast a look around, his eyes piercing the gloom that lay over the room effortlessly.   
  
The room really looked like an abandoned store, he quickly decided. Years ago this must have been a small grocer's shop, but now the long counter that took up most of the space was empty and covered with dust, and cobwebs were visible almost everywhere, glistening silvery and mysterious in the light of the small lantern. Numerous boxes and barrels filled the room, all of them dirty and looking as if they had been here for several years. The floor was covered with splintered wood, old rags, various other garbage and the remnants of what appeared to be a pottery's yearly output – broken into a thousand pieces. First, it appeared random and chaotic, but then Legolas realised that all these things had been strewn across the floor on purpose, to hide any signs humans would leave on dust-covered stones or floor boards.   
  
"Clever," he said quietly to the girl who pulled the ragged curtain that had hid the door back in place. "Very clever."   
  
"We have to be," Ethoani replied darkly and lightly walked over to the door, having to step over a few large wooden beams in the process. "Girion is anything but stupid, and so are his guards, for the most part. And no matter how clever we are, we are still caught, one by one."   
  
"Like your friend from the castle?" Legolas asked softly.   
  
"Yes," the girl nodded, a pained grimace flashing over her face as she motioned the elf to walk over to her. "Just like him."   
  
After a quick look back at the elf, the girl opened the door leading to the street and stepped outside, holding it open so the elf could pass. Just when Legolas was about to step outside, her hand shot out and grabbed his arm, and the elf looked up, startled and barely able to retain his balance.   
  
"Wait," she told him and fumbled with the strips that secured her cloak at her throat. She quickly shrugged out of the garment and draped it over the elf's shoulders, taking care to cover the fair haired being's head and especially his ears. "There aren't many elves in these parts; you are the first I've ever seen, in fact. Everyone saw you arriving yesterday, and were you to be recognised, the guards would be upon us in a matter of seconds. People are afraid of you."   
  
"But you are not," Legolas stated softly and watched her lock the door behind him.   
  
Ethoani locked the door, returned the keys to her belt and finally lifted her eyes from her grey, woollen skirt to look at the elf, her eyes open and honest for the first time.   
"No, Master Elf," she answered and smiled minutely. "I am not. I have seen what men do to those they hate and to those who are unable to defend themselves. I have been in Girion's dungeons many times, and I have witnessed atrocities you could not imagine. I know nothing about your race, but your people cannot do worse things than those I have seen."   
  
Legolas returned the small smile, deciding that this was not the time to rob the girl of her illusions about the elven race and enlighten her about the darker aspects of elven history.   
"I am glad to hear it."   
  
The girl inclined her head and turned around, beckoning him to follow.   
"Come. It is this way. Keep your head bowed and do not speak to anyone, for your voice would be recognised as foreign. Pretend that the ranger is drunk and you are helping him home, and we just might make it."   
  
And they did make it, even though Legolas was certain many times that they had been discovered. Only a few feet from the store they entered a rather large plaza that looked like a market place of some sort and that was not quite as deserted as it should have been this early in the morning. Legolas' heart was very close to stopping when they had to pass a group of five guards that had apparently decided to take a small break from their arduous duties and had sat down next to a small stone fountain. For a moment it appeared as if the soldiers would stop them, but in the end all they did was to make a few very unambiguous offers to Ethoani which she politely refused, much to the disappointment of the men, it appeared.   
  
The young woman somehow managed to get them across the plaza without them being stopped by the patrol, and Legolas let out a sigh of relief when they disappeared in the dark street leading to the west. His companion quickly shot a look over her shoulder to make sure that they were not being followed by an especially persistent member of the patrol before she once again hurried ahead, the small lamp lighting the way rather inefficiently. Ethoani however seemed to know where she was going or at least where she had to go, and so they indeed arrived after not much more than fifteen minutes at a very ordinary looking street that branched off from the larger one.   
  
Without another word the brown haired girl walked down the street and stopped in front of a middle-sized house that looked just as ordinary as the houses around it. It was plain and built of dark stones and wooden beams, and seemed dark and deserted like most of the other buildings in this street. It was still too early for anyone to be awake, and even the bakers and shopkeepers were still fast asleep.   
  
Someone in this house appeared to be awake though, for the young woman had barely knocked on the door when it was carefully pulled open, just wide enough for someone to peer through. A second later the door was opened fully and Ethoani quickly slipped inside, followed closely by Legolas who was sure his legs would give out from under him any second now. He hadn't been well when they had arrived here in the first place, and his little "conversation" with Glamir and his guards hadn't helped the situation any.   
  
A second later they were inside the house and the door closed behind them. A thick, dark curtain was pulled in front of the doorframe to prevent any light from escaping outside and half a dozen lamps were lit, blinding Legolas for a moment. When his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he saw that he was standing in a rather large, quite plain room. A fire was going in a small stone fireside, and a large table and two long benches were sitting right in front of it. And, his mind supplied sarcastically after another second, there were five men standing in front of him, holding loaded crossbows and staring at him and Aragorn as if they had just been thrown into their worst nightmares.   
  
For a while, it was perfectly silent, but then a tall, lean man with dark brown hair cocked an eyebrow, his blue eyes narrowing in annoyance.   
"You did not inform us about any guests, Ethoani."   
  
"There was no time," the young woman defended herself and placed the now extinguished lantern on a small shelf next to the locked door. "I saw my chance to free them and took it. I will not apologise for that."   
  
"Oh, but you should!" the man retorted heatedly. "You doom us all by bringing them here! Do you want us all to die?"   
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Ethoani snapped, whirling around to face the tall man. "Girion wants them, Laenro, and he wants them badly! That is reason enough to make sure that he doesn't get to keep them!"   
  
The man said something in an even darker tone of voice, but Legolas was long past caring. Ignoring the crossbows that the majority of the men had still trained on them, he began to walk over to the table and gently eased himself and his unconscious friend down onto one of the benches. His surroundings faded out completely when he began to look at the ranger's injuries in the bright firelight. The elf swallowed reflexively, telling himself that it looked worse than it actually was, something that he fervently hoped to be the truth. Now that he could properly see the wounds, they looked even more serious than before, and if there had been any doubt in his mind about whether or not Aragorn was running a fever, it was quickly removed when he looked at his friend's flushed face.   
  
After a few minutes he looked up, realising that the young woman and the man she had called Laenro were still arguing. All the gratitude he had felt for their rescue evaporated in an instant, and he opened his mouth to speak, silver-blue eyes dark and angry.   
  
"Excuse me," he began, his voice sharp as the steel of a blade. The two humans looked at him, apparently rather startled, and he continued, indignation and fury on his face. "I do not know who you are, or what you are, or what you are planning, but I can tell you that I do not care in the slightest. I owe you, my lady," he nodded into the young girl's direction, "my gratitude and my thanks, for saving both the ranger and me. But I will not sit idly by and watch you quarrel like ill-bred children while my friend is dying! He needs warmth, and bandages, and herbs, and I would strongly recommend he receives what his body requires to heal, or you might come to regret it."   
  
"Are you threatening me, elf?" Laenro asked darkly, raising his crossbow once again.   
  
"I am not," Legolas answered curtly, clutching Aragorn's body a little bit tighter to him. He was beginning to lose what little patience he had left. "I am merely stating a fact. If my friend is not tended to, _now_, I will make sure myself that he received what help he needs, and I will not care in the slightest if I bring all the soldiers in this town down upon this house!"   
  
For a few moments, the two humans simply stared at the angry elf, and Legolas was taken aback by how much alike the two of them looked. Laenro continued glaring at the elf, apparently not willing to back down even the tiniest bit, but Ethoani sighed and shook her head, looking at the man next to her with exasperation in her eyes.   
"He'll do it, Laenro, no doubt about that."   
  
"I can see that, sister," the young man ground out. "And let us not forget who brought them here, shall we?"   
  
"I did what I had to," Ethoani shook her head. She nodded at the other four men who were standing in the room like puppets that the puppeteer had forgotten. "Stop this. They are not our enemies. Help me get the ranger upstairs."   
  
The men hesitated for a moment, but obeyed her when her brother finally lowered his weapon and gave them a curt nod that spoke of barely suppressed annoyance.   
"Do what she says." He returned his crossbow to the hook at his belt and gesticulated at his men to step closer. "She is right, and I won't have him die here in my house."   
  
Legolas would almost have thrown up his hands and thanked the Valar for their intervention – and intervened they must have, since these two humans were among the most stubborn and annoying he had ever seen. He wouldn't go as far as to say that they were as stubborn and annoying as Aragorn, but they came rather close. He had been very close to strangling them when they had been arguing instead of helping his friend!   
  
Only because of his grudging acceptance of the fact that he wasn't in the condition to carry anything heavier than a single feather (and that only if the feather wasn't exceedingly large), he allowed the men to take up Aragorn's body and carry him off through another door into the rear part of the house. Legolas was already on his way to follow them and Ethoani who was just disappearing through the door when a hand closed around his arm, holding him back. Legolas looked up, annoyed, into the equally annoyed face of Laenro.   
  
"Why were you brought here? What does Girion want with you?"   
  
The elf contemplated what to say for a moment, but then settled for the truth, or more or less the truth.   
"My name is Lasseg, I am a wood-elf from Mirkwood. That madman that calls himself lord of this place wishes to gain information about the kingdom and our defences in case my people decide to get involved in that grand war of his he is planning. Two weeks ago a group of his soldiers attacked my patrol, killed one of my men and took me prisoner."   
  
The hold on his arm tightened shortly, sending a bolt of pain through his arm and shoulder.   
"What have you told him?"   
  
"Nothing," Legolas wrenched his arm out of Laenro's grasp. "I would never betray my king."   
  
For several moments, elf and man stared into each other's eyes, until the brown haired human averted his gaze and bowed his head slightly, very reluctantly it seemed.   
"I see now why my sister freed you. You are not safe here and Girion must under no circumstances catch you again. We will need to get you out of Baredlen as soon as possible."   
  
"You can do that?"   
  
"Aye," the man smiled mirthlessly. "It will take some time and a lot of luck, but it can be done."   
  
"Then I thank you," Legolas inclined his head, meaning every single word. "You, your men and your sister risk much for us. We are greatly in your debt."   
  
"She risks too much, that is true," the young human agreed softly. A second later he shook his head and looked up at Legolas, the impatient, arrogant expression once again back on his face. "And don't flatter yourself, elf. We are not doing this for you. Girion wants to know what you know; we are simply making sure that he does not get the chance to learn what he desires. If worst comes to worst and they should find us, I will be the first to kill you rather than let you fall into his hands again."   
  
Legolas knew that the man's words were meant totally serious, and yet he inclined his head slightly, earnest blue eyes boring into the man's.   
"And for that I thank you as well."   
  
Laenro merely looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face before he turned around in a jerky motion and stalked off, disappearing somewhere behind the elf. Legolas did not care in the slightest where this highly irritating man had gone but rather continued his walk that had been interrupted a few minutes ago. He quickly found the wooden staircase that led up to the higher level of the building and climbed the many creaking steps quicker than he had thought possible.   
  
Once upstairs, he paused for a second to listen for anything that might indicate where the humans had gone, only to see the men who had carried Aragorn away step out of a door down the corridor to his left. Without waiting for them to invite him to step closer he brushed past the men and stepped into the small room they had just exited.   
  
It was truly only a small room, in which only a bed and two chairs seemed to have fitted. There was a fire place in the one corner and a small window in the wall behind the bed that was right now covered with very solid, wooden shutters. Ethoani was in the process of lighting several bright lamps, and next to her stood an elderly woman who was shifting through a large bag of what seemed to be healing utensils.   
  
The younger woman looked up when the elf entered, his bloody and bruised face concerned and anxious and becoming even more concerned and anxious when he looked at the still, fever-flushed body of the young ranger. Legolas made it to the side of Aragorn's bed before his legs finally gave out and he dropped heavily to his knees. The elven prince reached out to brush a sweat-soaked strand of hair out of the dark haired human's eyes, seemingly oblivious to the other persons in the room.   
  
"Master Elf?" the young woman's voice drew him finally out of his thoughts. "Master Elf, if you want us to help him, you must tell us what has been done to him. This is Teonvan's work, is it not?"   
  
"Yes," Legolas whispered after some moments. "Yes, it was him. From what Strider has been able to tell me before the fever took hold he poured a kind of … brew into his wounds, a concoction of some sorts. I cannot tell you more."   
  
"You do not need to," Ethoani shook her head in disgust, having traded a quick look with the older woman. "It is one of Glamir's favourite … methods of persuasion. If poured into an open wound, the liquid causes tremendous pain for the victim, but also high fever." She lowered her head a little. "Your friend is still alive, so there is still hope. A large percentage of the men whose blood has been tainted by this brew die in the first eight hours. Since he still breathes, he might recover if we manage to keep his fever under control."   
  
Legolas gave no outward sign that he had heard what the girl had said other than clenching his jaw so tightly that it should rightly have broken into two.   
"Can you help him?"   
  
"_I_ can't," Ethoani shook her head and stood to her feet, placing the last lamp next to the bed. "I couldn't stop a nosebleed if my life depended on it. Thesieni here, however," she nodded at the other woman who was already readying bandages and various herbs, "can help your friend. She is a wise woman and very skilled in herb lore; if there is anyone in this town who can save … Strider, it is her. Besides, I must return to the castle before anyone notices my absence."   
  
Ethoani shook her head again when she saw the disbelieving look flitter over the elf's face.   
"I am not using the same way we used to leave the castle. I am using the gate, like every maid who has a sweetheart in the city. The gatekeepers are used to my nightly visits, they will suspect nothing."   
  
Legolas tore his eyes away from the flushed face of his human friend and inclined his head gracefully to the young woman, regretting it for a moment that he didn't possess the strength to stand.   
"I thank you, my lady. I realise that you did not save us out of sympathy, but I still wish to thank you for saving our lives. My friend would not have seen this coming dawn had you not come."   
  
Ethoani who was already on the threshold seemed to stiffen for a moment, but she turned around for a second, her blue eyes full of suppressed sorrow.   
"As I told you, I know what Teonvan likes to do to his prisoners. No-one deserves that."   
  
With a hasty nod at the kneeling elf she whirled back around and hastened down the corridor, the echo of her footsteps on the stairs fading quickly in the cool, still air that filled the room. Legolas was just returning his eyes to his friend, a frown marring his face, when the soft voice of Thesieni caused him to return to the present with a start.   
  
"Could you give me a hand please, Master Elf?"   
  
The fair haired elf shook his head quickly and hastened to help the grey haired woman to tend his friend, and soon he was far too busy cleaning and bandaging Aragorn's wounds and battling the fever that raged in the young man's body to wonder about the most curious situation they had managed to get themselves into.   


  
  
It was a minor miracle that no-one could see the dark clouds that hung over Girion's head, since the dark haired man was in the middle of one of his worst fits of rage anyone could remember, and that meant quite a lot in most people's opinion.   
  
In fact, the man wasn't even furious, he was almost mad with rage, Cendan decided with an amused inward headshake. He knew that his lord might very well come up with the idea of having all of them executed, just to vent his fury, but that didn't truly concern him because it would mean that Teonvan died as well, which would be more than worth it.   
  
The dark haired lieutenant would almost have smiled as his eyes came to rest on the captain's terror-frozen face. It was almost a shame that it hadn't been his new, much-beloved captain who had had to inform their liege of the elf's and the ranger's escape. His gaze fell on the crumpled, bloody and very dead body of the unfortunate guard whose duty that had been which still lay next to the door since no-one had been brave enough to take away his body in the face of Girion's wrath. Their lord wasn't known to be understanding when faced with bad news.   
  
Cendan very quickly remembered where he was and lowered his eyes again, not in the least willing to draw any attention to himself. At dawn, when the guards had wanted to bring the two prisoners some water, it had been discovered that they had disappeared without a trace. The whole castle had erupted into frantic activity, and search parties were still combing every single inch of the grounds. It was all for nothing, the lieutenant knew that in his heart. He didn't know where that knowledge came from, but he knew that the elf and the ranger were no longer inside these walls, a thought that filled him with quite a bit of malicious joy.   
  
Other than Teonvan and his two lieutenants who had about the combined intelligence of half a slice of bread, there were also most of the members of their lord's war council present, and Glamir and the captain of the guards. All of them looked as if they would very, very much like to be somewhere else, in fact anywhere else, a feeling that Cendan understood only too well because he himself felt exactly the same way.   
  
"…tell me!" his lord's voice thundered and brought the young lieutenant out of his musings.   
  
Cendan raised his eyes and lowered them immediately when he saw that the dark-clad man was staring at all of them, a look of such fury on his face that just had to be the harbinger of impending doom. Suddenly he wished very much to look as inconspicuous and common as Menvan and not to stand out as much as he did, with his almost black hair and darker complexion. Now would not be a good time to draw attention to himself.   
  
Girion glared at the assorted men in front of him, not even being in the mood to feel satisfaction at the way they averted their eyes.   
"I ask again: How did they escape?! I want an answer, now! Glamir! What happened?"   
  
The small, scholarly-looking man did not raise his eyes, his entire posture changed from the behaviour he had displayed earlier in the dungeons.   
"I followed your orders, my lord. After I had finished with the elf for the night, I had him brought back to the cell. I do not know what happened after that."   
  
"Oh yes," the dark haired man hissed. "We have to talk about that too. The elf fooled you!" He bunched up the parchment that had been waiting for him on his desk this morning. "Nothing he said makes even the remotest bit of sense! These here are lies, from the first word to the last!" He took a deep breath in an obvious attempt not to lose the last bit of his composure and finally added, "How did they get out of the cell?"   
  
"The door was closed and the guards were doing their patrols," the captain of the guard answered softly. "The door wasn't forced open; it was in fact found locked. The guards swear that they locked it before leaving, and I believe them."   
  
"I see," Girion said friendly, sitting down behind his desk. "The two of them just disappeared out of their cell. Maybe they turned into a pair of beetles and scurried away through the keyhole?"   
  
Cendan winced. It was never a good sign when his lord became sarcastic – and yet he found that he didn't really care. It somehow seemed to him that much of his fear for the man in front of him had originated from the respect he had somehow always held for him. It had been the respect for an intelligent, ruthless superior, but that was now gone like sand blown away with the wind. All Cendan saw was a man without honour, a man who did not care for the order of things and was not willing to punish his men unless it served his purposes.   
  
He was, however, intelligent enough to keep his face emotionless and not to show what he was thinking, something that did not apply to the captain of the guard.   
  
"Well, no, my lord," the man began doubtfully. "The elf might have cast a spell on someone. Everybody knows how they are, practicing dark magic and sorcery and all that..."   
  
"Nonsense!" Girion bellowed. "The only dark magic around here is your men's incompetence! I want to see all of them hang this evening!"   
  
"My lord," a member of his war council said, trying with practiced ease to take his liege's attention off that particular subject. "We must consider another possibility. The fact that the lock seems to be undamaged suggest that the prisoners were aided in their escape - aided by someone who knew the duty roster well enough to somehow get them out of the dungeons."   
  
"Which brings me to another very interesting topic," Girion nodded, calm and composed in a very eerie, disconcerting way. "You and the rest of your esteemed colleagues told me, no, _assured _me that this little band of traitors wouldn't pose a problem."   
  
"That is what we thought, my lord," the man nodded his head, knowing full well that that wasn't exactly the best thing to say. "What we learned from the last spy in the castle and, more recently, from the one man who had been posing as a trader, indicates that they neither have the resources nor the manpower to seriously endanger your plans."   
  
"Well, someone has apparently been mistaken!" Girion bellowed. "My prisoners are gone, the _elf _is gone! I want him found so I can watch him die for lying to me!" His dark eyes wandered over to Teonvan who was doing his best to become part of the dark wall panelling. "Captain Teonvan!"   
  
"Yes, sir?" the brown haired man asked subserviently.   
  
"I want the castle searched," Girion informed him in a deadly tone of voice. "I want every square inch searched, and if you cannot find them here, I want you to search the city. They can't have got past the city walls, not in the night and with the troops encamping just beyond them. I want you to find them, Captain. Do what you have to do, take all the men you need, but I want them and those who aided them! Do you understand?"   
  
"Yes, my lord," Teonvan answered smoothly. "As you command. At least the ranger couldn't have got far. There's a fair chance he's already dead anyway."   
  
"Then," the dark-clad man said icily, "I would advise you to get out of my sight and start doing your job. I will be very, very displeased if you return to my house this evening without something to show." He turned to the captain of the guard. "The same goes for you. And now get out, all of you, except for you," he nodded at the member of his war council, "and the dear Master Glamir. We have much to discuss."   
  
Teonvan and the others might be many things, but they were not suicidal. In a matter of seconds they were all gone, all undoubtedly glad that they were still in possession of their heads and their limbs, and Cendan and the captain of the guard had even enough common sense to pick up the dead messenger that had been so unfortunate to be the bearer of bad news. When the doors had closed behind them, Girion turned slightly to look at the two remaining men who looked very much as if their last hour had come.   
  
This was all highly … displeasing, he thought while he continued to stare darkly at the men in front of him. A mere hour ago he had had a highly unpleasant conversation with the ambassador of the tribe living closest to the Sea, one of the more powerful eastern tribes. Girion frowned darkly. He had had to remind the man, insistently and several times at that, that they had an agreement he did not intend to let anyone ignore, least of all him. In the end it had probably been more the man's fear of the other Easterlings and the reminder how much money he would receive for his tribe's services than his threats what had convinced him to remain patient and to keep to the plan, something that did not sit well with Girion at all.   
  
Yes, he though darkly, his "allies" were growing impatient, and if he had learned one thing in the past, it was never to trust an Easterling. In the almost 185 years since his ancestors had founded this city, the tribes living around them had tried to sack and destroy it at least eight times, and had come close at least twice. He knew that if he showed any weakness or insecurity, any at all, they would put aside their differences and betray him, without a second's hesitation.   
  
He had ordered the ambassador to move his men to the east of the city, further into the woods where they wouldn't been seen so easily, and intended to order the other ambassadors to do the same as soon as he was finished here. Apart from the fact that they wouldn't be seen so easily by anyone nearing the city, they would also be farther away from the city – which, considering the way things were going at the moment, would be the most important thing. He did not intend to practically invite the Easterlings to walk into his city, thank you very much.   
  
Girion growled inwardly. Why had that dratted elf had to choose this moment to disappear into thin air?! He had underestimated him and the ranger, he admitted to himself, he had underestimated them greatly. The elf had retained enough presence of mind to lie to Glamir, something that considered quite a lot of skill because the smaller man was, despite his inexperience concerning matters of war, not an easy man to deceive.   
  
Oh yes, he thought, the elf would pay when he got his hands on him. And so would that ridiculous little resistance movement he had never thought important enough to eradicate – an error he was more than willing to rectify. Whoever had helped his two prisoners to escape would pay, and pay dearly at that. Before this week was over, he would watch with great satisfaction how the elf, the ranger and these silly freedom fighters died, as slowly and painfully as Glamir and his significant experience could make it.   
  
"Alright," he nodded at the councilman and Glamir. "Let's compile what we know about that little resistance cell of ours. I do not intend to underestimate this merry little band of traitors for a second time."   


He leaned back into his dark, wooden chair as he listened to the men's reports, a cold smile on his lips that caused even Glamir to cast down his eyes and not raise them again for the rest of the meeting.   
  


  
  
The sun had risen a long time ago and was nearing her zenith, heralding another glorious, yet cold winter's day. The sky was blue and cloudless, and even in the depths of the city the song of birds could be heard, wafting softly through the cold air.   
  
The springlike atmosphere did not reach the inside of the small room though, and to Legolas it might as well have been darkest night. No matter how much he had wished to see the sky again, he did not pay the outside world any attention, and for all he cared it could have ceased to exist altogether. All he did care about was the bed in front of him, or, more precisely, its occupant who was still lost to what was going on around him.   
  
The elven prince sighed and wrenched his eyes away from Aragorn's face over which the sunbeams which had managed to filter through the half-closed shutters had laid a faint, slightly flickering pattern. He reached for the cloth on his friend's forehead, frowning heavily when he felt how dry and hot it already was, and dipped it into the bowl with cool water that was sitting next to him on ground. Thesieni, the older woman skilled in herb lore and healing, had tried to convince him to lie down and rest as well, but had soon realised the futility of that particular enterprise.   
  
Legolas smiled wryly as he replaced the now cool, wet cloth on the ranger's forehead, trying very hard not to think about how hot his skin still felt to the touch. Thesieni was indeed a very wise woman, for she had quickly given up on trying to persuade the elf to leave, who had stubbornly been shaking his head no the entire time. With a dark look that all healers seemed to possess she had told the fair haired being to at least stay in his chair and to call her should her patient's condition change even in the slightest and had finally left, with an annoyed flick of her grey head.   
  
The small smile on the prince's face faded as his eyes returned to the man's pale, bruised and unconscious face. His blood ran still cold when he thought back to the small hours of the night when the woman and he had tended Aragorn's wounds, and if he had thought that he had hated Teonvan before, he had quickly realised that he had been mistaken. _Now _he hated him. Back in their cell he had barely been able to see his hand in front of his eyes due to the pitch black darkness, but here he had seen every single wound that … man, if one could call him that, had inflicted on the young ranger.   
  
Thesieni hadn't said anything during the whole time it had taken them to clean and bandage the numerous injuries, but her mouth had tightened into a thin, bloodless line by the time they had been finished. If Legolas had had any doubts about her skills or healing abilities, they had quickly dispersed, and he had got the nagging suspicion that Aragorn's wounds weren't the first of this kind the woman had treated. She had given the elf a medicine the young man needed to drink every few hours to counteract the brew that had been poured into his wounds, and still his fever had not gone down.   
  
Legolas sighed deeply, hoping against hope that Aragorn would wake up and look at him. He knew that no such thing would happen, for that the human was far too deeply in the darkness of fevered dreams, but yet he hoped, even though it was a hope that died bit by bit the longer the man remained unconscious. Thesieni had left him with no illusions about his friend's condition. She had very plainly told him that most men died after about eight hours, and the main part of them had had fewer wounds than Aragorn. The healer seemed to be surprised that the young ranger was still among the living, even if only barely, and had told Legolas that there still was the very real chance that he may succumb to the fever that raged inside his weakened body.   
  
So Legolas did the only thing he could do at the moment: Sit next at his friend's bedside and wait. He did not doubt Thesieni's words or her experience, but he hoped that there was enough elvish blood in the man to fight this poison, whatever it may be. And even if there was not, he tried to cheer himself up, Estel was stubborn enough for three men. He wouldn't die without a fight, about that he was certain, and he would definitely not die from something like this!   
  
The elf was still deeply immersed in his troubled thoughts when he heard heavy footsteps on the floorboards close to the room, and he turned around as quickly as his battered body would allow him to. The elderly healer had treated him as best as possible, but he still felt as if he had taken a little tumble down the steepest and stoniest slope of Mount Doom.   
  
Legolas had just turned fully around when the closed door opened, revealing the still scowling figure of Laenro, Ethoani's brother and apparently owner of this house. The elf inwardly shook his head. How was it possible that this human was constantly ill-tempered? He understood that the man was worried about his sister, about whom he seemed to care a great deal, but all this was hardly his or Aragorn's fault, was it?   
  
The dark haired man merely remained standing on the threshold for several moments, his eyes fixed on the room's two occupants, and when Legolas was beginning to contemplate if he was perhaps waiting for an invitation, he took a step forward and closed the door behind him.   
"So he is still alive?"   
  
Legolas gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain calm, reminding himself that this man was all that was standing between them and Girion's dungeons at the moment.   
"Yes, he is still alive. And he won't die either."   
  
"Don't be so sure," the man advised darkly. "I have seen many men die after receiving such wounds. Many of them were my friends."   
  
"I am sorry to hear that," the elf retorted, doing his best to really feel any sympathy with the human. He paused for a moment and studied Laenro's dark, forbidding face. "What news of the castle?" he finally asked softly, once again removing the warm cloth from Aragorn's forehead.   
  
"They are beginning to search the city," Laenro answered emotionlessly. "They are still in the southern district, but they will be here in about an hour." Legolas' head shot up, clearly alarmed, and so the man added, "They won't come up here, at least not at first. We are well-respected coopers, or so they think, and if they don't find anything downstairs, they will most likely leave. A kind word and a few coins usually help in that regard as well."   
  
Legolas nodded slowly, placing the once again cool cloth on the ranger's forehead, who was beginning to toss and turn slightly. It appeared that, once again, fevered nightmares were beginning to plague the young human, and the elf sent another prayer to the Valar to see his friend through this.   
"I see," he told the man. "How did all this start?" he asked softly. "When did you decide to … well…"   
  
"…throw away my life? Endanger my family? Fight a fight I know I cannot win?" the man completed the sentence. "In this city, Master Elf, you do not have to decide such things. They are decided for you."   
  
Legolas looked up from his friend's suddenly flushed face and raised an eyebrow in question.   
"What do you mean?"   
  
"What I mean," Laenro answered, "is that such things are decided for you before you are even born. Every man in this city who has some backbone left fights the fight I am, even though most of them do it in a much more … subtle way than I." He leaned back against a wall of the small room and shook his head wryly. "All you have to decide is how much you are attached to life and how much you want to achieve before you're executed."   
  
"You are leading a resistance movement," Legolas simply stated.   
  
"A noble word," the brown haired man snorted. "I wouldn't call it that, even though Girion would probably agree – now, that is. Before all this, he hardly considered us worth his while, a situation we could very well live with, to be honest."   
  
The blond elf merely looked at him, and the man finally lowered his eyes.   
  
"I understand Ethoani's motives," Laenro finally added, rather reluctantly it seemed. "Girion must not be allowed to get his hands on you again. I know," he raised his hand as Legolas started to protest, "I know that you didn't tell them anything, and that does you credit. But believe me: If Glamir ever gets to finish what he's started, you will. I have seen it happen many, many times. You will tell them everything, it is just a matter of time. Everyone can be broken, and with an elf it will take Glamir merely a day or two longer. If you're really lucky, you'll die before they're finished with you. I wouldn't count on it though. He is…"   
  
"…very good at what he does," Legolas finished the sentence, his eyes cold and hard as ice. "Yes, so he's told me."   
  
"Then you understand why he cannot, why he _must _not learn what you know," Laenro shot back. "All we can hope for at the moment is that he marches out with his army and gets himself killed. If you tell him what he wants to know, he just might succeed and come back." A dry smile flittered over the young man's face, reminding the elf of the slightly desperate humour of his younger sister. "And we don't want that, do we?"   
  
The human's sarcastic, fatalistic attitude half scared and half astonished the elf. Who would take up a fight with such a frame of mind? This man had lost all hope in achieving his goals or even getting out of all this alive a long time ago, the elf mused; then again, if faced with an adversary such as Girion and his soldiers, he didn't know if he wouldn't have done the same…   
  
He was still trying to come up with an answer when, next to him, Aragorn's body suddenly stiffened, a small moan escaping his lips. Legolas' eyes darted back to the no longer still form of his human friend just in time to see the man arch his back, his bandaged arms tangling themselves in the many blankets that had been draped over him.   
  
"Estel!" Legolas called out, his heart falling straight into his stomach. "Estel! Calm down, my friend, you're safe … Strider!"   
  
The man obviously did not hear his words and continued fighting against foes only he could see in his feverish dreams, and after a second of total paralysis Legolas' hands shot out and grasped his bandaged wrists, trying to calm his friend down before he injured himself further. The elf shifted his grasp slightly in order not to press down too hard onto the wounds the metal bindings had left on the young ranger's wrists and did his best to restrain him, whispering softly to him in a frantic mixture of Common, Sindarin and Quenya.   
  
A few seconds later his head whipped back around to the wide-eyed human, using all his remaining strength and agility to hold Aragorn down onto the mattress without hurting him further.   
"Get the healer!" he told the man curtly, doing his best not to let the panic that was beginning to fill his entire being leak into his voice. "Go!"   
  
Laenro remained where he was for a moment, frozen to the spot by surprise and mild shock, before he nodded and quickly disappeared out of the door, calling out for Thesieni in an increasingly urgent voice. Startled voices from other men in the house answered his calls, and soon a fair-sized chaos descended onto the building as people frantically began to search for the elderly woman.   
  
Legolas, however, did not notice any of this as he tightened his grip on his trashing friend, praying to Ilúvatar and all the Valar not to let it end like this.  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
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**Okay, next chapter in a week. I'm sorry about the cliffy (not really), I promise Ethoani won't turn into a Mary Sue (even though I am planning a love story between Legolas and Thesieni at the moment - just kidding! *g*) and Glorfindel and the twins will arrive as well. Now they're all in the same mess, ain't that great? *g* Reviews are, of course, greatly appreciated, which means Review Please! **

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Additional A/N:  
  
Mouse5** - Well, as long as I don't have to hear the names, I think it's okay. Well, even if I did hear them it would be okay because I have a rather thick skin... *g* I agree with you, of course, Glamir is freaky. I was tired of 'normal' bad guys. *g* I'll think about letting Legolas kill Teonvan, but to be honest I am thinking about letting someone else do the honours... *g*   
**Ellyrianna** - Yes, of course I am an evil person. We all knew that, didn't we? But I'm really sorry for posting late, I didn't mean to. I am running out of time again rapidly 'as we speak' (or rather, as I write) , so I just hope I'll be able to reply to all the reviews. *g* Great you liked Glamir, though I think I have to disappoint you: It's not him at the door. That would be slightly OOC, wouldn't you agree? LOL, you are worried about Legolas' sexiness? You _are_ slightly mad, right?   
**Red Tigress** - Alright, it was still a cliffy. What can I say, I like them? *g* Glamir reminds you of whom? Al Ghul from Batman? I'm sorry, but I have NO idea what you're talking about. I was never a very big Batman fan, sorry... *g*   
**Gwyn** - It WOULD be nice, I agree ... but you have to admit, it would be rather unlikely, right? *g* You didn't really think that Legolas had told them what they wanted to know, did you? You know how stubborn - not to mention stupid - he is...   
**Stacee Phelps** - Yeah, emotional things DO tend to make people cry.... *evil grin* Well, if you liked AEFAE, it's alright. Don't worry about our 'deal', I think I'll be able to send it to you next week. *g*  
**Aratfeniel** - LOL, Aragorn - the living pincushion? You are quite optimistic, aren't you - about the living part, I mean? *evil cackle*  
**Deana** - It's FUNNY that Legolas gave them fake info? Well, that's an interesting way of seeing it... *g*  
**Someone Reading** - Oh, you're using that book. It's alright, it's just that she, well, isn't very precise. Just take "hi" - it's the lenited form of si, meaning now. I don't know where she got "this" from, really... *g* So, what you wanted to say is "Sen echuiant", you have to add a pronominal ending to the verb, which is echuia-, btw. I am using some books in German, so if you know German, let me know and I'll give you the titles.Great you liked the chapter, and sorry for correcting you again!  
**Elenillor** - Well, I hope you weren't too excited - too much excitment is bad for you! *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Sabercrazy** - Jeez, you were right? That IS scary... *g* LOL, you will create an evil Mini-Celylith? Sounds like a good plan to me! Don't worry, I have always liked the villains myself. That's why I like Glamir too, I guess... You are wondering what kind of person Rashwe would be? Well, let me tell you: Donyc II. *g* And don't let Glorfindel hear that! I am rather sure that he wouldn't appreciate you comparing his dead friend to a demon horse! *evil grin* And I don't think I'll write that story. I'll just keep dropping hints and will drive all of you to the brink of madness! Mhahahaah! And yes, it did sound a little as if you were kissing up. Just a little, of course. Uhm, why would it be an elf? More importantly, who would it be? That doesn't really make sense... *frowns*  
**Firnsarnien** - Yes, it was a little cliffy. There are worse ones to come! *evil laugh* This is the grimmest you have ever seen them look? Really? Well, I'll have to try harder in the future then... *g* Believe me, I am _trying_ to get the papers done. The first one is due on Monday, so I'd better hurry... *g*  
**Alasse Tiwele** - Yay! *takes the-most-evil-cliffy-Alasse-has-read-in-a-long-time-award* * huggles it* *takes the-one-of-your-favorite-authors-award* *huggles it* Thank you! I love awards! I have to agree though: A LOT can happen in two days, but you're right, they just might arrive a little earlier... *g* Thanks a lot for the reviews - and the awards, of course!  
**Carrie** - Oh, don't mention papers, will you? There's still this evil one that's due on Monday... *shudders* Glamir is meant to be worse than Teonvan, great you think so too. I still dislike Teonvan more, I don't know why either... But I really can't tell who's going to kill whom yet, since I really don't know. Legolas _might_ kill him though. But then again, I might let Rashwe eat him, that's definitely an interesting idea... *g*   
**Grumpy** - I am the Queen of Cliffies? Thank you! *huggles* That's SO flattering... LOL, Teonvan did NOT turn Aragorn into a piece of swiss cheese! Well, maybe only a little bit... *g* And I'll think about the dragon. Then again, I don't like to include such beasts... But it would be interesting, I'll give you that. *g*  
**Crippled Raven** - Well, you MIGHT be right. They don't. It's nice to hear you like my style, of course - my sister calls it "weird", I think... *g* Uhm, yes, I do speak German, which fits quite nicely since I also live in Germany, with German parents, which makes me a German too, I think. *g* Well, actually my family is from all around the country, inclusing various parts which are no longer German and various neighboring states, but still... Your sentence was perfect except for a little apostrophe that belongs between the 't' and the 's', but that's nitpicking. And all that Maths stuff is out of eleventh grade, so you still have time. Praise God and be merry. *g* Thanks for the compliments, even though my English is _far_ from perfect! Hmm, yes, I see your point, I guess they would good at lying, but only small lies. For big ones you need a lot of practice! Thanks a lot for the huge review!  
**Strider's Girl** - Don't worry, I understand. Teonvan IS mean. Hmm, you're right about the twins' reaction - then again, you just assume that they'll be able and in the shape of going on a killing spree! *runs off cackling madly* No, there's no more 'real' ranger torture coming up, and we had quite enough too, I think. Well, you know what I think about too much torture: It can destroy the best stories... Great you found the right summary btw! Thanks for your reviews!  
**Sirithiliel** - *g* Well, I'm short on time too, so we're even! Thanks for reviewing anyway, and have lots of fun on your trip!  
**Marbienl** - To be honest, I think Girion's main fault is that he's mad. But that's only my opinion... *g* I guess you're right about Glamir, but he didn't know about the wound. Otherwise he'd certainly have stopped the guards. If you must know, I pictured it like holes in the sides of his chest, maybe between several lungs. I don't think that Teonvan really pierced bone, because you would have to be really strong for that if you only have a relatively short spike. LOL, I agree: The twins wouldn't be too happy if they knew they're the comic relief! Poor elves... *g* *shakes head* No, the water will be fine, don't worry. Uhm, sorry about that, but Súliat isn't even there. He's in Isengard where he belongs, planning the destruction of all of ME... *g*   
**Elvendancer** - LOL, I agree! They have the worst luck I've ever seen or even heard of... *g* I'm very glad to hear that you aren't throwing things at me, I really hate it when people do that... *shakes head* My own fault I guess. I just love cliffies too much.   
**CrazyLOTRfan** - I can do *roughly* alright, I think. I'll do my best. *g* Climbing up the wall would most certainly be madness, nothing brilliant about that at all, I fear... *smiles* Hey! That was a German word! And even spelt correctly! Vielen Dank! You get two weaks' spring break? *grrrr*  
**Aromene** - Poor you! Welcome to the club of those who have to spend their live researching stupid, annoying, boring things... *g* Yup, the horse is possessed. It's a demon, I'm not sure which one yet, but it's definitely a demon. *g*   
**Sadie Elfgirl** - I have the bad feeling that these people aren't interested in discussing anything - calmly or not... I totally agree with you on Teonvan. He's a slimy, stupid git. I hate him too, and I created him, so that means something. *g* LOL, yes, I guess a rabies ridden mountain lion woudl be less dangerous! And you're right: I love jerking my reviewers around! I am evil! Mhahahahah! *g* And I know you wouldn't tell anyone (not), but I like watching you suffer. Sorry. *evil grin*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, I guess there are ... uhm, strange artists? Let's just assume that Glamir is a _very_ strange, rather demented one? *g* Thank you, I'm glad you liked the names. Especially Súliat took me some time to come up with... Congrats, btw! What does it feel like now to be brace-less? (You don't have to answer that, it's a rhetorical question *g*)  
**Tychen** - LOL, you're right - even though I have to admit that I'd totally freak out if Glamir were sitting next to me on the train... *g* Precisely! Finally someone who understands! *huggles* These two are only human, uhm, elven - whatever. You can't just put holes in them etc. and expect them to be back on their feet tomorrow! So 'your' Rashwe is called Pasha? Mine was called Puccini - horses DO have stupid names, don't they? *g* But I think yours sounds worse than mine ever was...  
**Chibi Noin** - Uhm, yes, it's quite long. About four hundred pages now at chapter 24, I think... I don't think you can damage cour brain with too much oxygen though, I think. I hope not! LOL, 'ambrosial'? I'll have to admit that's a new compliment - thank you very much! I am very glad you like this so much, and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest as well. I hope your appetite will be sated with this new chapter, thanks a lot for the many reviews!  
**Alilacia** - You're moving again? Well, have fun! I've always liked it - as long as I didn't have to go to a new school or something like that - but it can get slightly annoying, huh? Oh, now I get the Wormtongue thing. Yeah, he liked balck, that's true. I hope you didn't forget something important, that you managed to set up your computer and that everything went smoothly! Thanks for reviewing despite everything!  
**Zam - **ROTFL! "Out to lunch"? Well, that IS pathetic - but I've always known that your orcs were slightly ... different. I'm sorry your plan didn't work, though. Really. *fake smile* Eek, Legolas is gnawing at that dead guy? Now that's simply disgusting! *hangs head* I knew I shouldn't have mentioned Eöl. Elvensniths like him and Celebrimbor should stay dead if you ask me... *clamps hand over mouth* Forgot I mention that one, will you? I've always liked librarians really, to be honest. I just decided to insult their kind with that comparison. No reason for that, really. *shrugs* I'm evil and random. LOL, I think I like your version better. It sounds ... more authentic, somehow. Sorry, Elladan, I know you too well. *pats elven twin* I'll leave you now to your plans for Arda-domination! Good luck!  
**Karone Evertree** - Thanks. *sniff* I was really afraid you guys might be angry. I really would love it to have more time, but, alas, it's not meant to be. Too bad. And I know what you mean, I absolutely hate it when people just stop posting. *grrr* Evil.  
**Bailey** - Well, okay, we can agree on the fact that it wasn't a nice cliffy. But it wasn't really evil either. Don't worry, the twins and Co. will get here next chapter, which will make everything even worse, of course. Did you expect anything else? *shakes head sadly* No, I guess no-one did.  
**Shauna** - Uhm, yes, I've been hinting at it, but still no. Mhahahaha, I LOVE being unpredictable! *g* Don't worry about not reviewing the last chapter. Such things happen, especially with FF.net. *g* I'm glad to hear that you liked Glamir; I wanted to have a 'different' villain for once! Thanks for the review!  
**Snow-Glory** - I agree. They've most definitely have had enough of small, enclosed spaces. Too bad they don't get to choose, right? *evil smile* Well, Rashwe might be a mere horse, but he's a demon-horse! You would be afraid too! I agree, a healer would be unexpected, but ... no, sorry. *g*  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Do I now? Have you ready to resort to violence? Well, I'll just take that as a compliment, I think... *g* I'll take the arrows, by the way. Don't ask me why. I like arrows. I have to admit that pearls DO sound very nice - but it's a little too late for that now, right? *sighs* Well, next time. *g*  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Nope, I agree with them: Honey is NOT nice. You are evil, did you know that? And the twins _are_ cuddly, even though I can see why they wouldn't like that term. LOL, of course Celylith is testy. I mean, who wouldn't be? Having to spend so much time with Glorfindel and a pair of anxious elven twins... *shudders* I would be VERY testy. And you're right, they are Noldor too! I don't know if this was the 960th review, but I loved it nonetheless! Thanks!  
**Maranwe1** - Wow! You! *huggles* I missed you, I really did! Thanks for the corrections, though. I've always had trouble with the there it were/it was thing. One of the things I am beginning to fear I'll never learn. *sighs sadly* Thanks for telling me. I'll try to remember it from now on. And I absolutely agree with you, orcs and wags aren't very different. Four legs, two legs - just details. About the twins: Would you believe me if I said that, more or less, that's exactly what they'll do? I did mention that they're stupid, didn't I? *g* Let me check my timeline. The army is meant to set out in five days. I have a huge timeline so that everything fits in the end... Sorry to hear about your story. It's so annoying if you have to change something when you're, technically, already done, isn't it? Thank you so much for your HUGE review, I wish I'd have more time to reply! *huggles* Sorry about that, and thanks again!  
**Twinlakeshgrl** - Don't worry, I would never mistake criticism for a flame, especially when it's about Elvish. And I have to admit that yes, "lamb" was not necessary in that sentence. I know that "Quenya" already includes the language bit, but ... well, I like the word? I know, it's a rather stupid reason, but it's true. I don't know if it's expressly false, but I simply like it. So, on this account you're right. About the other thing: I also know that the imperative is formed "" (or just "a" when the first syllable of the following word contains a long vowel or diphtong) + a simple infinitive or endingless aorist form. BUT there are a few other attested forms of imperatives, for example "ela!", "heca!" (WJ:364) or, most famously, Eru's command "Ëa!" (which, admittedly might only be because "" would look really stupid. Besides, "to be, exist" was never an easy word). Helge Fauskanger, whom you'll probably know, (if not, one of the most respected Tolkien scholars) thinks that basic verbs (to which queta belongs, as you said) have an alternate imperative with the ending -a, so instead of "à quetë!" just "queta". I simply thought that, if he was right (and he usually knows what he is talking about), it would make more sense that Aragorn would be using the shorter form in this situation. Well, that were my reasons. If you really have a Quenya teacher, I would be very grateful if you could ask her/him so we could get a second opinion. I know that 'your' version is the 'usual' one, but I really think that this might be an alternative. *shrugs* Be that as it may. Thanks for the review!  
**Cosmic Castaway** - *blinks* Well ... alright then. Great you liked the torture. And I'm glad you saw it that way - that it's always easy to say "He shoudln't have done that..." from where we're sitting. I think so too. *g* I'll leave you to your flowers, I think. Have fun! *raises eyebrow*  
**Nikara** - Yeah, Legolas was showing a bit of common sense. Surprise, surprise... *g* I know, there are quite a few people who are interested in that particular story, but I promised not to tell anyone. Sorry. *g*  
**Jera** - Well - nice to see that you like Glamir. I don't think there are many people who agree with you, but still... *g* I'm sorry for embarassing you in front of your computer's owner. I didn't mean to, I swear - but is IS an interesting side effect... *g* I like the bets. I can't tell you anything, of course, but I do believe you could earn quite a lot of money... LOL, you speak Klingon? Really? Well, I got never past "Qap'la!", or however you spell it. I always thought it sounded somewhat like fighting dogs... *g* And if you thing the English have stolen lots of words, wait till you learn German. We have stolen from the French, have taken Yiddish, Polish, Danish, Italian and words and thousand others and now we're busy stealing half the English language. I hate it the last bit, but what can you do... *shrugs* What kind of job IS that? It sounds very interesting, but slightly - dangerous. Quite dangerous, actually. *g* Thanks so much for your great, huge review!  
**Leggylover03** - *g* Thank you! I am doing my best! I expected you to like the Estel pain/angst, of course! Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Sonnylover** - I'll reply to the email here, I hope that's okay? Well, if not, you won't read this, so whom am I talking to... *walks off mumbling under her breath* It is very nice to hear that you like the story so much. I am also an Aragorn fan (I know, I know, who'd have thought? *g*) and I am very glad that you liked 'my' version of him. So you want to become a librarian then? *looks at Glamir* Have fun... *g* Thanks a lot for the mail!  
**Suzi9** - Wow! Huge review! I am sorry that I don't have the time to answer properly now, but I have to go in ten minutes... Let me see... I also like Quenya better, which is because I like Finnish better than Welsh, I'm afraid. It's softer, at least Quenya is. *g* I COULD give Teonvan to you guys, you're right. But I wouldn't expect too much from Zam's orcs, they're kinda useless. *g* I like Cendan too, he's quite nice. I have the feeling though that Legolas wouldn't agree with that assessment of his character... *g* Sorry I caused you to become paranoid. I spend lots of time in the library too, I know what you mean. And I agree: Demons don't let you be. They simply annoy you more. *g* LOL, so it's Drákon? That explains a lot! Thanks for the cookies, I am waiting for the pics, and thanks for the review!  
**Uineniel** - Wow, you needed only two hours? *blushes* Thanks a lot for the compliments, I'm glad you liked it so far. I would love to stay and chat a little longer, but I still have another reply and must dash. Thanks for the review!  
**Isadora2** - Keine Angst, keine Angst, eher um, na ja, 22.15 h. Ich muss jetzt gleich zum Konzert meiner Schwester, darum faellt das hier auch ein bisschen kuerzer aus, sorry... *g* LOL, Freitag ist Nili-Day? Na, danke! Und DU traeumst auch? Ist doch ... nett? *g* Allerdings nett im Sinne von beunruhigend... Ist allerdings schoen, dass du meiner Light-torture-Entscheidung zustimmt. Ich kann so viel am Stueck einfach nicht schreiben... *schuettelt sich* ROTFL! NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!! Ich LIEBE diesen Sketch, ehrlich! *g* Keine Angst, keine Angst, der dumme Rangeboy braucht noch 'ne Weile und der dumme Waldelb darf sich noch 'ne Menge sorgen. Ich bin wahrscheinlich im Sommer wieder in London, und werde mir dann auch einen Journalisten grabschen! *g* Danke fuer die superlange Review!  
**Firniswin** - Yes, of course I'm evil, but I think you should have known that already. I think I'm not going to comment on your obsession with "manly sweetness" - no, I think I will most certainly not. You are insane, girl. And the chapter is really here, oh the joy! *g*  
  
**Sorry for the shorter-than-usual-replies. I really don't have the time to write more, sorry! Thanks a lot for the great feedback!**


	23. Hide And Seek

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**  
  
***sighs happily* Finally. One of the evil college papers from hell is done! I have lots of time now! *thinks for a moment* Well, there IS that oral exam in two weeks, and the second evil college paper from hell, _and_... *wails* I'm going to die! *g* No, no problem. The worst is still to come (I HATE oral exams), but soon it's all over. Well, either that or I'll get bad grades and will have to start studying in earnest. *g* I'd really prefer the first.  
  
Second: Jack has finally reviewed! Yay! Let's welcome her into our happy little family! *readers wave cluelessly* Let me introduce her to you: She's helped me a lot with coming up with evil ideas for our favourite heroes. The idea for the spikes was, essentially, hers. Don't ask me why she chose "Jack" - she's also slightly insane. *g* And then there's her obsession with ruptured spleens - but that's definitely a story for another day. *g* So, I just wanted to say Hi to her. *waves* Hi!   
  
Okay, that being said, I can also say that I am very glad that you liked Ethoani. Yes, I promise that she won't become a Mary-Sue, and to prove it she's not even in this chapter. She's not really a main character, so she can't be a Mary-Sue, right? *wipes forehead* It's really sad, I know, but as soon as I create a female character I'm afraid she might be misinterpreted. Especially when she's under fifty. *g*  
  
  
So, here is chapter 23, which has yet another cliffy! I am sorry, I really am, but there are even more coming. My alter ego's particularly evil lately, I guess. *evil grin* So, apart from that Aragorn wakes up (well, kind of at least), we hear a bit more about the little resistance movement's history, Cendan makes an appearance and Glorfindel, the twins and Celylith do something so incredibly stupid that only the term braindead satisfies. I'm serious, people. *g***  
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Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 23  
  
  
The reasonable part of Legolas' brain later informed him that only a few dozen seconds could have passed, or maybe half a minute at the most, before the door was thrown open and several humans rushed into the room, at the front a very determined-looking Thesieni. In a matter of half a second she had scanned her patient and reached his side, trying to feel his forehead around the restraining arms of the elf who did his best to keep the man still.   
  
"What happened?" she asked calmly, managing to place a hand on the ranger's hot forehead. "For how long has he been like this?"   
  
Legolas shook his head, helplessness filling his entire being.   
"I don't know. Not long. Half a minute, a minute at the most. What is wrong with him?"   
  
"He dreams. It's the fever," the woman answered curtly, beginning to sift through the bag she had left next to the bed before turning back to the men at their back. "Bring me cold water. I had hoped the medicine would lower his fever, but now we need to resort to more drastic measures."   
  
The humans scrambled out of the room to do her bidding, apparently more than used to obeying the elderly healer's commands, and Thesieni returned her attention to the elf who looked utterly lost and helpless.   
"Talk to him. Calm him down somehow. We must get him to drink more of the medicine before we can start and try to lower his temperature."   
  
She turned to the side and began mixing said potion with some herbs in a wooden cup, leaving Legolas to stare at his agitated friend. Calm Aragorn. Sure. No problem. He carefully placed both his hands on the young human's shoulders, trying to prevent the man from doing himself – or him and Thesieni, for that matter – any more harm. He began to whisper to the man in a disjointed mix of Common and Elvish, relaxing a little when he saw that his friend began to calm down minutely when he heard the soft words.   
  
"That's it, calm down, Estel … it's alright, we're safe, no-one will hurt you…" The elf quickly realised that Aragorn reacted better to the elvish languages, and so he continued in a curious mixture of Sindarin and Quenya. _"Sedho, mellon nín … Sí lertalyë serë; narelvë varna, meldonya…"_   
  
After another few moments, the man's body finally relaxed and he stopped fighting against the elven prince's hands that restrained his movements. The lines of fear and pain smoothed on his face, and Legolas carefully sat back, releasing Aragorn's shoulders one by one. He chanced a look at the healer next to him, but did not cease his quiet, soothing monologue. Thesieni merely gave him an encouraging look and pressed the cup into one of his hands, nodding into the young man's direction.   
  
Legolas did not stop whispering to his friend, but gave the wooden cup a dark look. Why was it always him who had to give Aragorn various kinds of medicines and potions? He was beginning to suspect that this was one of the Valar's own, personal jokes: Putting him into situations where he would have to drug the young ranger who was never happy about it once he woke up. The elf shuddered inwardly. He could still remember how Aragorn had reacted the last time he had forced him to drink medicines he hadn't wanted to drink…   
  
One of the elderly woman's eyebrows began to arch in a definitely impatient way and Legolas quickly drew himself out of his thoughts, moving a little closer to his friend who was still moving restlessly under the blankets. He slipped one arm under the man's head to elevate it, wincing slightly when it pressed down onto his cut and bruised flesh, and slowly began to coax the liquid into the other's mouth.   
  
He was getting quite good at this, he decided while he whispered to the ranger over and over again that everything would be alright, first in Sindarin, then in Quenya and then in his mother tongue again. He once again found that Aragorn was a much more docile and reasonable patient when unconscious or delirious, and so he managed to make him drink all of the medicine after a relatively short amount of time, something that surprised no-one more than him. He knew how stubborn that man could be, after all.   
  
What positively astonished him, however, was that, just when he had handed back the cup to the healer, Aragorn's eyes flickered open, their grey depths wide and unfocused. A wide grin spread over the elf's face and he leaned forward, one hand carefully reaching out to cup the man's face, trying not to wince openly when he felt the heat that emitted from the other's skin.   
"Strider?" he asked softly. "Estel?"   
  
Aragorn blinked tiredly, trying unsuccessfully to focus his eyes on the source of the voice. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he vainly tried to form words, but then he managed to speak, even though his words were so soft that even Legolas' keen ears had trouble understanding them.   
"_Ada_?" the young man whispered confusedly. "Father?"   
  
Legolas swallowed thickly and shook his head, still smiling at the human.   
"No, my friend, I'm sorry. It's only me. Your father and brothers await you back at home. You must not disappoint them, Estel, you hear me?"   
  
The dark haired ranger frowned, clearly not comprehending what was being said to him.   
"Legolas?" he asked weakly, blinking again in a vain attempt to bring his world into focus. "Teonvan … where…"   
  
"Shhh," the elf soothed his friend, grinding his teeth firmly when he saw the barely disguised panic flicker over the man's face. "It's alright, he's gone. We escaped." Aragorn simply stared at him, and so he added softly, "Sleep, my friend. Recover your strength. I promise everything will be fine. _Men beriar aen, Estel.__ Losto…_"   
  
Whether it was beacuse of his words or because the young man's strength had simply given out Legolas would never know, but a few seconds later Aragorn's eyes closed again and his head lolled to the side as he once again fell back into unconsciousness. For a moment, Legolas didn't truly know if that was a good or a bad thing, but then Thesieni nodded next to him, satisfaction and approval on her face.   
  
"Well done, Master Legolas," she told the elven prince, placing a hand on his forearm. "You did well. He should sleep for a few hours now, long enough for us to try and bring down his temperature." She smiled at the wide-eyed elf, trying to set the other's clearly distraught mind at ease. "Your true name does not concern me, Master Elf. It may not be the name Ethoani told me, but I do not care. I will not tell anyone about it if you do not wish it."   
  
"I would be grateful if you did not, my lady," the elf inclined his head. "It might cause certain … complications."   
  
Legolas' eyes returned automatically to the pale, bruised face of his friend, and Thesieni smiled again, a reassuring expression on her face.   
"It will be alright, son. He's survived this long, he'll not let a fever get the best of him."   
  
The elf shook his head, wondering shortly why every other being he met called him "son", "lad", "boy" or variations of the above. He knew that he looked young to anyone who was not of his race, but even the most unobservant person had to notice that his eyes were anything but. He was not a child, in Eru's name!   
  
If the woman noticed his mild displeasure, she either didn't care or didn't comment on it. A moment later the door opened again and two of the men returned, carrying heavy buckets with cold water. For the next few hours, the elven prince forgot everything around him as the healer and he did all they could to lower the ranger's temperature, and only when the sun was already beginning to slowly sink below the horizon did he lean back in his chair, almost overcome with fatigue. His own wounds were far from healed, and apart from the physical exertion that came from holding down his human friend's thrashing body, having to soothe the young man's feverish murmurs and pleas had drained him more than he had thought possible. The only thing that reassured him was that Thesieni seemed to be as exhausted as he was.   
  
"Well," the woman remarked wryly, pushing a strand of grey, sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes, "I think I am getting too old for this."   
  
"You have my thanks, Thesieni," Legolas inclined his head. "Thank you. Thank you for not letting him die."   
  
"It was your doing more than mine, Master Elf. Your voice kept him in this world, I am sure about it," the woman shook her head and slowly stood to her feet, a last time touching the young ranger's forehead. "His temperature has gone down. He is still too ill to be moved, but if he rests enough, he will be fine, I think."   
  
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but she merely shook her head, giving him a small smile on her way to the door.   
"I am glad I could be of service, Master Elf. I have no love for Girion or his men, believe me, and anything that makes them unhappy makes me very happy in return." She paused for a moment, already on the threshold. "Call me should there be any change. Barring any unforeseen complication he should sleep for many more hours."   
  
She turned back around to leave the room and almost collided with Laenro who had nearly soundlessly appeared on the doorstep, proving to Legolas that he was indeed much more tired than he had thought. He should have noticed the man a long time ago, but all he could hear was his own, inexplicably loud heartbeat and Aragorn's soft, still laboured breathing. The woman gave the younger man a quick nod and disappeared around the corner, leaving the elf and the dark haired man staring at each other.   
  
After a second, Legolas shook his head, feeling much too tired, worried and exhausted to quarrel with this hostile man.   
"Yes, he's still alive and no, he won't die in the near future either. I am sorry to disappoint you."   
  
A wry smile flittered over the man's face as he stepped into the room.   
"I hadn't expected anything else. Thesieni is a skilled healer and your friend appears to be too stubborn to die. No, I came here for another reason. They are gone."   
  
"Pardon me?" Legolas frowned in confusion, his eyes not leaving Aragorn's face that one of his hands was cupping once again.   
  
Laenro raised an amused eyebrow.   
"You didn't notice?"   
  
"Notice what?" the elf retorted, what little he had left of his patience quickly dissipating. The last thing he needed at the moment was to mince words with this man who didn't even try to hide the fact that he wished them to be dead and out of his hair.   
  
"That the guards are gone," Laenro answered somewhat cheekily. "They left half an hour ago."   
  
"There were _guards _here?"   
  
"Oh, aye," the man retorted. "And, to be honest, it was very hard getting rid of them."   
  
"Please, Master Human," Legolas shook his head, turning around slightly to look at him. "I have neither the patience nor the energy to drag every single word out of you. If you have something to say, say it."   
  
"Alright," Laenro nodded, apparently not too perturbed by the elf's answer. "I am still a little bit shaken myself; I nearly didn't get them to leave without inspecting the whole house."   
  
Legolas turned even paler than he already was as he imagined what would have happened if Girion's soldiers had come up here. They wouldn't have had time to conceal themselves; besides, Thesieni had told him clearly that Aragorn was not to be moved. No, he thought darkly. That would not have been too fortunate, would it?   
  
"I see you realise how lucky we have been," the man nodded, noticing the elf's blanching face. "The leader was not as stupid as guards usually are. The soldiers are a force to be reckoned with, but guards aren't too quick-witted as a rule. This one, however, was not fooled at all. He ordered his men to leave only after a most thorough search of the lower levels. I haven't seen him before," Laenro added thoughtfully. "He was a strange fellow. I think he had brown hair, but I'm not sure anymore. He had one of these faces that just aren't memorable. I could pass him on the streets and not recognise him."   
  
Legolas didn't know why, but these words triggered something in his mind, something that was very important and struggled to rise to the surface. Try as he might though, he couldn't remember what it was, and so he merely nodded back at the man.   
"Will they come back?"   
  
Laenro shrugged and sat down on the chair next to the elf, a clueless expression on his face that reminded the elf suddenly of how young he really was. He couldn't be more than three or four years his sister's senior, which placed him at about the same age as Aragorn. Suddenly a large part of Legolas' resentments and anger he felt for this man melted away. He was a child, really, a child who had apparently been thrust into a situation he had never expected himself to be in.   
  
"I don't know," the man confessed. "Usually, they wouldn't, but it appears that the usual rules don't apply anymore. They might."   
  
Legolas nodded softly and carefully leaned back in his chair, making sure with a quick look that Aragorn seemed to be sleeping as peacefully as could be expected at the moment.   
"How did this start?" he asked softly. "You said you didn't have a choice, and yet you did. You could have chosen to duck and hope not to be noticed."   
  
"You do not know what you are talking about, Lasseg. That's your name, isn't it?" Legolas nodded quickly, encouraging the man to continue which he did, covering his eyes with a hand. "You know how this city was founded?"   
  
"I do," Legolas nodded again. "Your lord was kind enough to inform us about it."   
  
"He is _not _my lord," the man replied sharply. "He may rule this town, but that does not mean I admit any claim of his over it or myself." He leaned back into his chair as well, eyes staring unseeingly at the wall. "When Dale was destroyed, Girion's ancestor and many other families came here, among them my own. With time other people joined us, from the settlements around Lake-town or from the South, from Gondor, but not anymore. There are even some who have taken wives among the tribes living around the city, even though they are few. Easterlings, or even children from these marriages, are barely accepted here."   
  
"That was in the past?" Legolas inquired. "People don't come to settle here anymore?"   
  
Laenro laughed; a short, dark and bitter sound.   
"Tell me the truth, Master Elf: Would you voluntarily come and live here?"   
  
"Well," Legolas began, "I don't…"   
  
"You wouldn't," Laenro cut off his words. "And neither would any sane person I know. Girion is mad, as you have probably noticed by now."   
  
"Yes," the elf nodded wryly, "I have been suspecting something like that for some time now."   
  
"Aye," the brown haired man grinned at the other, looking suddenly younger and more carefree. "It's rather obvious, is it not? I think it's a family trait that is getting out of hand. From what my parents and grandparents told me, his predecessors weren't much saner either, but Girion is exceptional even for this line. His ancestors have been getting more and more paranoid, more and more distrustful and suspicious. A hundred years ago you could still live quite well in this city, but now…"   
  
Legolas did not interrupt him, sensing that the young man had nearly forgotten that he wasn't alone in the room.   
  
"Girion and before him his father and grandfather have become obsessed with this, with their war to take back what their ancestors lost and yet didn't even possess in the first place. If he had any sense in him, it has long left him over this. He will not abandon this war."   
  
"So he has no support in the city?" Legolas asked. "Then why…"   
  
"…is there no uprising?" the man finished the elf's question. "Oh, there were several. The last was over before it had even truly begun, when Girion took over the rule from his father – whom he allegedly poisoned, but that's another story . In the end two hundred 'ringleaders' were rounded up and executed, along with most of their immediate families."   
  
He shook his head, for the first time looking the elf straight in the eye.   
"His hold over this city is too strong. There are too many soldiers, even without the Easterlings he has allied himself with now. Of course he has some support, especially from the wealthy families whose members become councilmen and higher officers. They have much to lose, and know that they would not live long either should he fall."   
  
"The main problem, however," the young man added darkly, "is that the people are afraid. They have been so afraid for so many years that they no longer know what it is not to be afraid. They live in the constant fear that Girion's eye may come to rest on them and that they or their families may end their lives in Glamir's dungeons. He has acquired quite a reputation in the short time he has been here."   
  
"He's not from Baredlen?" Legolas asked, feeling a cold shudder race down his spine at the mention of the small man's name.   
  
"No," Laenro shook his head. "He came here from Northern Gondor about five or six years ago. He is just what Girion had been looking for, if you ask me."   
  
The elf nodded thoughtfully as he reached out and touched his friend's forehead. Aragorn's skin felt cooler, something he noted with great satisfaction. He returned his attention to the man next to him, looking at him seriously.   
"How did you get involved? What caused you to decide to act instead of hoping to go unnoticed?"   
  
Laenro didn't answer at first, but then he shrugged lightly, his hand running through his dark hair in a nervous gesture.   
"My parents died when I was still young. My sister had just been born when a fever took my mother who was still weak from giving birth. She died, and my father followed her soon after. We were taken in by my uncle, who cared for us until I was old enough to provide for her with his help. That was ten years ago when I was fifteen."   
  
He fell silent for a moment before he continued.   
"A year later, Girion came to power. My uncle had been leading the resistance that staged the uprising and was one of the few who were indeed guilty of the charges that were brought against them. Since we were no immediate family and were no longer living with them, Ethoani and I were spared, but my cousins weren't so lucky. They were executed with their father, even though they were hardly older than me."   
  
He swallowed hard, apparently struggling with the memories.   
"Their mother had luckily died some years ago; something for which I thank the Gods now. I can still remember their faces as if I had seen them yesterday. They were only seventeen – they were twins, you know. I had grown up with them, had played and studied with them as if they had been my own brothers, not my cousins. And I watched them die that day nine years ago, I watched them die for something they had had no part in."   
  
"I understand," the elf mumbled softly.   
  
"Do you?" Laenro asked, but without spite. "I don't think so. They were younger than me in a way, since their father had sheltered them for their entire life, especially after they had lost my aunt. It was that day, when I watched hundreds of innocent people die, among them my cousins who were still little more than children, that I understood that I had to do something. I took over what was left of my uncle's men and organisation." He leaned forward, his eyes boring into the elf's. "I do not care if I die or not. I do not care if I am killed for what I do. All I care about is that Girion pays for what he's done."   
  
"And about your sister," Legolas added softly.   
  
"Aye, about her as well," Laenro nodded. "I asked her a thousand times not to go back into the castle, but she does not listen. I want to protect her more than anything else in the world, if she would only let me."   
  
"She's stubborn," the elf nodded wryly. "And very brave."   
  
"I call it foolish," Laenro shook his head. "She shouldn't be doing this. She's too young to die – and die she will, just as we all. Anyone who opposes Girion dies, sooner or later. Yet she doesn't listen to me."   
  
"Why?" Legolas asked curiously. "You are her brother. After your father's death…"   
  
"She is not very obedient, if that is what you mean," the man smiled dryly. "Besides, she has her own reasons for hating Girion and his men."   
  
The elf only nodded, knowing instinctively that this was a topic the man was unwilling to pursue any further. His gaze wandered over the small, sparse room, idly noticing that the sun had sunk even lower, judging by the light that filtered through the wooden shutters. They had escaped their prison not much more than twelve hours ago, and still so many things had happened.   
  
"What will happen to us?" he finally asked softly.   
  
Laenro blinked, mild confusion on his face as he returned from a realm of dark memories.   
"As I said, we will get you out of the city. We have to wait until your friend is well enough to travel and the excitement has died down sufficiently, but then we will supply you with horses and get you out of here. With luck, there will be too much unrest and confusion when Girion and his army have marched out to bring you out of the city safely. And if we are lucky, he will die and never return."   
  
Legolas nodded almost imperceptibly.   
"Do you really think so?" he asked quietly.   
  
"No," Laenro answered darkly. "Without the information he wants from you, he might not be victorious, that is true. His armies might be defeated, far away from here, but he will be back. No-one will try to attack him here, not when he is in league with the Easterlings. To march to Rhûn without a force of many thousands of men is suicide, as the kings to the North know as well. No," he repeated hopelessly, "He'll be back. And everything will become even worse than before."   
  
The man shook his head forcefully, as if to disperse the dark thoughts.   
"But we can hope. That is all that keeps this 'resistance movement' alive anyway, hope. We are barely more than a hundred men, not nearly enough to challenge Girion's power even when he is away on campaign. He must not have you, Master Elf, or he might achieve what he desires and all our hopes will crumble into ashes."   
  
"Nothing is certain," the elf shook his head. "Not even the Wisest can foretell with absolute certainty what the future will bring. Have hope, Laenro. You will manage to free your city, one day."   
  
"Are your people able to look into the future?" the man asked somewhat mockingly.   
  
"Some of them are, yes," Legolas nodded, deciding to ignore the other's unbelieving tone of voice. "I, however, am not one of them. I am telling you this because I have learned some important things in my life, and one of them is that you cannot hope to forever rule a city or a country by fear. The more drastic the measures you choose to ensure your rule, the more certain it becomes that it will fail in the end. You cannot rule through terror and fear alone. In the end the sun will always break through the clouds and the shadows will be fade; it is only a matter of time."   
  
"Then," Laenro replied dryly, "I only hope that Ethoani and I will be able to see it. The way things are going at the moment, there is the very real possibility that we will not."   
  
"That is of course always the problem," Legolas admitted in an equally dry voice.   
  
A flicker of real humour could be seen in the brown haired man's eyes and he opened his mouth to speak when both of them froze in their chairs when two booming, reverberating sounds could be heard, seemingly echoing forever through the still house. It took Legolas' exhausted mind another second to realise that it were two hard knocks on the entrance door a level beneath them.   
  
The elven prince's eyes widened as he looked at the equally shocked man next to him. That couldn't be good.   
  
It wasn't. 

  
  
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but that has got to be the dreariest city I have ever seen."   
  
Elrohir inwardly rolled his eyes at his brother's attempt at humour, but couldn't deny the truth of his words. For once, Elladan was correct. The city that was lying in front of them, its grey buildings and walls faintly touched by the light of the dying sun, was indeed the dreariest city he had ever seen, and that included the ruins of Annúminas he had visited a few times in his life.   
  
"For once, I have to agree with you, my lord," Celylith nodded next to him. "It makes Dol Guldur appear like a positively cheerful place in comparison."   
  
"Even though that is, of course, a gross exaggeration, I think there might be some truth in your words, my friend," Elrohir inclined his head as well. "But I will have you know that I will turn and ride away should I see even a tiny bit of the Dark One or his servants."   
  
"I don't think that that will be the case here," Glorfindel shook his head with a small smile. "But I have to agree. I wouldn't want to face the witch-king again, not to mention his master, of course. Once is enough for me."   
  
"I have never seen one of the Nine, and I have no desire to change that either," Elladan shook his head. "Even though I think that to be highly unlikely as well. This is a city of Men, not of wraiths and servants of Sauron."   
  
"But you're right," Celylith said, shielding his eyes against the glaring beams of the setting sun as he surveyed the city in front of them. "This town is … dark. Sinister, somehow."   
  
"Yes," Glorfindel nodded, "I feel it too. There is something wrong here."   
  
"This is Rhûn," Elladan mumbled softly, reaching out to pat his slightly agitated horse. "Show me a place with which nothing's wrong and you'll get my favourite bow."   
  
"Your Lothlórien bow?" Celylith instantly perked up. "Well, in that case…"   
  
"Ah," Glorfindel raised his hand. "Stop it, both of you. If I have to listen to one more of your arguments, I will lose all my self-restraint, I swear it. Every time that happens, my senses tend to get slightly … confused. I have been known to mistake elves for orcs once or twice." He sighed in mock sadness. "It can lead to horrible tragedies. There was that one time I…"   
  
"Yes, Glorfindel," Elrohir sighed and spurred on his horse. "You told us before."   
  
"I have?" the golden haired elf asked as if greatly surprised. "In Elbereth's name, that must have slipped my mind."   
  
"Of course it must have," Elladan grinned at the elf lord as he followed his brother into the direction of the city gate closest to them. He turned seriously immediately as he looked at the tall, grey, forbidding walls of the city. There was something wrong here, somehow, he just couldn't put his finger on it.   
  
"Have you ever thought about it?" his twin's voice interrupted the silence. "The name, I mean? 'Baredlen' – that is a rather strange name for a human town, is it not?"   
  
"I have thought about it as well," Celylith admitted as he vainly tried to convince Rashwe to walk in a straight line. "'Exiled Home'. Rather melodramatic if you ask me."   
  
"Exiled from where?" Elladan wondered aloud, his eyes once again wandering over the imposing walls. "And who would pick such a name, in Elvish at that?"   
  
"I don't know," the silver haired elf admitted, for the umpteenth time cursing his stubborn mount. "They could have been from virtually anywhere. Rhûn is far away from all human kingdoms and larger settlements."   
  
Glorfindel barely heard what the three younger elves were saying. They were still at least a day away from the Sea of Rhûn, but they had made much better time than he had thought. He had expected them to reach this city tomorrow morning at the earliest, but the horses had seemed to sense their urgency and had borne them as swiftly as the Mearas themselves.   
  
The elf lord eyed the sight in front of him warily, feeling that Asfaloth did not like it either, which was usually a certain sign that something was amiss. He had long ago learned to trust his horse's keen senses; besides, his own were telling him just the same, namely that trouble was waiting for them in this town. He hadn't lived nearly three ages of this world to ignore such a warning.   
  
His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept to the left of them, and a second later he reined back his horse, motioning his companions to do the same.   
"To the left," he said curtly. "There was a large camp there."   
  
The other elves' eyes wandered over to the left, straining to see what the other had spoken about, obscured as the view was by a small copse of trees and the city itself.   
"Lord Glorfindel is right," Celylith spoke first. "There was an encampment there. You can still see the fireplaces, and the ground is trampled and was disturbed by many feet."   
  
"It hasn't been abandoned for long," Elrohir nodded as their horses continued to carry them slowly closer to the city. "I'd say yesterday evening, or even today. And it was huge."   
  
"Then whose camp was it?" his twin asked with a puzzled frown. "It would have been quite a large marketplace."   
  
"I think we all know what kind of camp it was," Glorfindel shook his head darkly. "The only question is, where did the soldiers go?"   
  
"The tracks are leading around the city," Celylith informed them quietly. "My guess is that they have withdrawn behind the forest we could see earlier. There is no way we could have missed their presence if they're not concealed by the woods or have moved even farther away."   
  
"I do not like this," Elladan stated evenly, a hard glint in his eyes. "I trust no-one who has an army camping on his doorstep. Especially not in Rhûn."   
  
"There are no signs of an attack or a siege," Elrohir nodded, the same glint creeping into his eyes. "If that had been the case, I'd have said that this city was attacked by the Easterlings. I saw a few axes and the remains of a chariot among the things left behind in the camp. The men who had their tents pitched there hailed from the East, that much is sure."   
  
"Then we have to decide what to do," Glorfindel told them seriously. "It is not too late to turn around and leave. We are not yet in range of any of the towers and our horses are swift. If we ride now, we will not be caught up with."   
  
"No," Elrohir shook his head. "We cannot leave. We do not know what is going on here, and we will not find out by running away and hiding. The lord of this city or anyone else here might have some information about Estel or Legolas. I will not leave before I have found out where my brother is."   
  
"I concur," Celylith nodded. "It is a risk we must take. We cannot hope to sneak into the city, for that it is too well-protected and elves are too rare a sight here; we wouldn't even get past the gates. All we can do is ask for an audience with the lord of this place and hope that he can shed some light on all this."   
  
"I agree as well," Elladan told his brother and friends. "I am even willing to pretend that I didn't see that camp; all I am interested in is if someone has seen Legolas or Estel."   
  
Glorfindel studied the three young elves' serious faces for a moment before he nodded, admitting to himself that that was the course of action he himself wished to undertake. If they had had more time, he would have gladly advised the young ones to withdraw and bide their time, to watch the city before proceeding, but he knew they had none. Every hour that passed was an hour more Aragorn or the young prince were in the hands of these unknown men, and that alone was enough to make his blood boil hot and cause him to desire to throw all caution overboard. Still, he hadn't lived this long by behaving idiotic. Well, he admitted after a heartbeat, at least not by behaving _entirely _idiotic.   
  
"Alright," he nodded, giving all of them and especially the twins hard looks. "But keep your eyes open at all times. It might very well be that we must retreat rather hastily. Keep in mind where your horses are and how to get to them. I do not trust this town."   
  
Elladan rolled his eyes, wondering for a moment if this was how Estel felt all the time.   
"We are not elflings, Glorfindel. We are…"   
  
"…irresponsible and reckless at times," the elf lord interrupted him impassively. "And because of that I will be the one doing the talking. You," he looked at Elladan, "will keep your temper in check. You," he nodded in Elrohir's direction, "will stop spearing everyone with your father's _look_, and you," he looked at the very surprised Celylith, "will refrain from strangling the first human who claims not to know where your prince is. Understood?"   
  
The three younger elves traded a slightly exasperated, hurt look, but nodded a moment later. Content that they wouldn't ruin everything from the very beginning, Glorfindel turned back to the city, once again suppressing a shudder as he looked at the tall grey walls. He _really _didn't like the look of this in the slightest, and he was beginning to have the feeling that this was a mistake of truly extraordinary proportions.   
  
Still, he thought defiantly, what was there he could do? He would not return to his lord bearing the news that his son and Legolas had disappeared and could not be found because he'd had a bad feeling about something. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress his anxiety it continued to grow, and when they had reached the gates leading into the city, he was very close to turning Asfaloth around and leaving instantly.   
  
He squared his shoulder and did his best to smile at the man who had stepped in front of them, wearing a grey and black livery and a dark scowl. Behind the human, more guards could be seen who looked anything but happy about having to greet four elves. Glorfindel sighed inwardly. He truly did not know why most men were so afraid of the Firstborn.   
  
"Greetings," he said in his friendliest voice as it became apparent that the men didn't plan on speaking any time soon. "This is the city of Baredlen?"   
  
"Depends on who is asking," the man said, fingering his sword in an obvious gesture of nervousness.   
  
Glorfindel suppressed an annoyed growl, sensing that the temper of the three young ones was rising as well. He had neither the desire nor the time to put up with an insolent human.   
"I am Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell, a realm far to the West of here," he answered curtly, his blue eyes boring into the man's. "I and my companions are here to ask your lord for an audience. We are here on very urgent business."   
  
"What kind of business, elf?" the man asked, his men slowly beginning to edge forward to encircle the four elves.   
  
"Business I will discuss with your lord, not with you," Glorfindel retorted icily, staring at the human with an expression of cold disdain that had taken him ages to perfect. "Unless you have the authority to refuse my request, I would advise you to step aside and let us pass."   
  
It was probably the mention of that word that caused the man to finally nod and step aside, but only after he had motioned two of his men to step closer.   
"Alright," he glared at the four definitely smug-looking elves. "Alright, I will allow you to pass. These two here will accompany you up to the castle. If you stray from the main road or disobey their orders, it will be considered a hostile act. We are at the moment conducting a search for escaped criminals, and it would be for your own safety if you followed their lead. I think Lord Girion will see you."   
  
Glorfindel simply nodded without another word, and the men stepped aside, allowing the four elves to ride through the gates and enter the city. Their two guides wordlessly took point and began to walk up the street leading up to the grey, very dark and intimidating looking castle, giving them enough time to survey their surroundings with leisure.   
  
The first thing the golden haired elf lord wondered was how anyone could escape that castle anyway. It looked as inescapable and impregnable as anything he had ever seen, and not even the warm beams of the setting sun managed to make it look any less dark. The second thing he noticed was that there were so many guards and soldiers on the streets that he was hard-pressed to see one or two humans not wearing the grey-black livery, and those he did see looked anything but happy. It might have been because they were afraid of these … criminals that had allegedly escaped, but he wouldn't have wanted to bet on it. The fear that permeated this city ran deeper, far deeper than that.   
  
"Girion. Interesting name, don't you think? I don't like this," Elladan mumbled again next to him, keeping his voice so low that the golden haired elf barely heard the soft Elvish words. "These people are afraid, just like those in the village were."   
  
"Even more so," Elrohir shook his head minutely as he smiled brightly at a human soldier who had stopped and was staring at them. "I am beginning to think that this just might have been a mistake."   
  
"I hate to say it, but I agree," Celylith agreed, his face emotionless while he continued to survey their surroundings. "This city is clean and the houses are well-kept but their inhabitants are too afraid to even look up. One would have thought that seeing four elves would be something of an event here, but they don't pay us any attention."   
  
"Which is not good," Glorfindel agreed as he guided his horse around a cluster of guards who refused to step to the side. "Even worse are the looks the soldiers give us. They don't like us."   
  
"I can live with that," the older twin grumbled softly. "I don't like them either. Not one of them has an honest face about him."   
  
"Unlike you, of course," his brother chimed in softly, earning himself a dark glare from the slightly older elf.   
  
A moment later the softly sloping road ascended slightly, and all of them looked up, noticing that they had just entered a large marketplace. The bridge that stretched over the castle's moat was no more than a few dozen yards ahead, and in the middle of the place there was a small stone fountain that was now covered with a glistering mantle of ice and snow. The snow all around it was churned up and trodden almost completely flat. The reason for it became apparent: It was apparently the main market place, even though there were few stands visible and even fewer potential buyers.   
  
The main thing that caught Glorfindel's eye, however, was the large, iron cage that stood right next to the fountain, or, more precisely, the animal that occupied it. Next to him, Elladan seemed to have spied the cage as well, for he stopped his horse and stared wide-eyed at the beast inside it that looked like a very large, very ill-tempered and very wild ox.   
  
"What in the name of the One _is _that thing?" he finally asked, disbelief and disdain in his voice as he looked at the two guards that were walking in front of them.   
  
The two men stopped and turned around, apparently not all too eager to reach the castle themselves.   
"It's one of the wild oxen that populate the area around the Sea," the younger of the two answered. "One of the chieftains living close to here gave it to our lord as a gift."   
  
"How … unusual," the older twin smiled somewhat nervously and turned to his brother, wonder on his face. "The Kine of Araw! I thought them to be only a myth!"   
  
"No," Glorfindel shook his head, cocking his head to side to study the animal more closely, "They're not. They have been the favourite quarry of Gondorian nobles for many years."   
  
Elrohir nodded, knowing that to be the truth. The wild cattle that lived around the Sea of Rhûn was much larger and wilder than your average oxen, and was therefore said to descend from Oromë's cattle itself. Whether that was the truth and the animals were descendants of the Vala's giant cattle or just a legend he was not sure, but he knew that many hunters had come from Gondor and other places to hunt them. Vorondil the Hunter had been among them, ancestor of the current Steward Ecthelion, but not all of them had been as lucky as he and had returned to their homes. The beasts were immensely strong and untamable, and many men had paid for the desire to slay one of them with their health or their lives.   
  
"Well," Elladan's voice tore him out of his musings, "I think I am rather glad that it's in that cage and I'm not."   
  
"You should be, elf, " the other man interjected gloomily before he turned around and continued walking up to the castle. "They are known to tear apart those who come too close to them."   
  
"Charming," the older twin muttered and spurred on his horse to follow his brother and Glorfindel. "Really, really charming."   
  
They rode on for a few seconds before either of them noticed that something was amiss, but then the twins stopped their horses simultaneously, ignoring Glorfindel's questioning expression and exchanging a very annoyed look.   
"Celylith!"   
  
Glorfindel turned around on his horse and saw that the silver haired elf had not followed them but had remained where he was, oblivious to the fact that he was blocking the better part of the road. The younger elf's blue eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the cage and the snorting, stamping beast occupying it.   
  
"Celylith!" Elladan repeated and swiftly urged his horse into the other elf's direction. "Celylith! We need to go!"   
  
"What?" The silver haired elf seemed to snap out of a kind of trance.   
  
"I said," Elladan ground out impatiently, "that we need to go. We need to get to the castle to ask this lord about the prince and Estel, remember?"   
  
"Oh," Celylith said, his eyes returning to the cage as if drawn there by an invisible force. "Oh, yes. I'll be right behind you."   
  
"No," Elrohir added, "You won't. And before you ask: No, you may not keep it."   
  
"But look at it!" Celylith exclaimed, looking at the animal with almost tender eyes. "Isn't it adorable? It's even happy to see us, look!"   
  
The twins first looked at each other and then at the snorting beast, an identical expression of loathing on their faces. The ox did not pay them much attention but continued to shift its weight from one heavy, fur-covered fore hoof to the other, giving a very good impression of an animal that wanted nothing more than escape its prison and thrust its huge, slightly curved horns into the chests of all people present.   
  
"Are you mad?" Elladan finally asked. "No, wait," he added after a second, reaching out to grab the younger elf's forearm, "ignore that question. Of course you are. Come on."   
  
"But…" Celylith protested.   
  
"No," Elrohir firmly shook his head and grabbed his other forearm, virtually forcing him to follow them, sandwiched between the two of them. "It's not a pet, it's not adorable, and it's not happy to see us. It would be happy to gut us, but that's another story."   
  
"You just don't understand," the silver haired elf shook his head as well. "Nobody is willing to give these kinds of animals a chance to prove that they're different than everybody believes. All people ever want to do it kill them."   
  
"That's because they _aren't _different than everybody believes," Glorfindel said incredulously, inwardly debating why the twins hadn't told him that their friend was mad. It just must have slipped their minds, he decided after a second; they weren't what one would call sane either. "I have hunted creatures like them many times in the past. They're all malicious and ill-tempered. One could just as well try to keep a spider as a pet!"   
  
Next to him, Elladan seemed to choke on something, and Elrohir developed a sudden coughing fit. Celylith's face turned an interesting shade of pink up to the tips of his ears, and he found an abrupt interest in the cloudless sky. Glorfindel studied the faces of his companions, and once again understood what his lord had told him more than once when faced with the twins' antics: He didn't want to know.   
  
He had just opened his mouth to inform the young ones about that fact when they reached the bridge, and all thoughts of mirth fled from his mind. In a matter of seconds they had crossed the heavy, very solid-looking gates and entered the courtyard, only to come face to face with even more soldiers. The place was huge and milling with people, and the most of the buildings on the right seemed to contain barracks, armouries and the like. There were several buildings that looked like stables as well, and Glorfindel's keen eyes could even see a large pigeonry on the far right of the courtyard.   
  
It was a place of almost frantic activity, and over every single man and woman seemed to hang a sort of dark fear, as if they were expecting something terrible to befall them should they stop for even a second. Glorfindel shook his head, dismissing these dark thoughts. The stifling atmosphere of this city was beginning to get to him, and he was beginning to see shadows behind every corner – then again, there _were _shadows behind every corner in this town. Still, he did have the feeling that a good part of the soldiers were laughing inwardly, or, more precisely, laughing about them. There was something they were missing here.   
  
The two men who had guided them here motioned them to stop and hurried over to a man dressed in a long, costly embroidered robe. They bowed low before him and began to speak, and a few moments later they returned, wearing that somewhat smug grin about every other person in this city seemed to sport. Glorfindel growled inwardly. He did not enjoy being toyed with, and he enjoyed it even less in a situation such as this one, when he was responsible for three of the most accident-prone young elves in Middle-earth.   
  
The man in the robe followed more slowly, at what he probably thought a dignified pace. He waited for the four elves to dismount before he gave them a small bow, an emotionless expression on his face that seemed even smugger than the smiles on the two soldiers'.   
"Welcome to Baredlen, my lords. Please excuse the rather … impolite reception. There are several criminals on the loose; they escaped last night from their prison. We cannot allow them to get out of the city. I hope you understand."   
  
"Of course," Glorfindel lied smoothly, feeling more and more alarmed. If even a third of the things this man had just said was true, he would personally eat his own pack including his bow and quiver. "No offence was taken. We understand your need to protect your people. Your guards have informed you about the reason for our visit?"   
  
"Yes," the man smiled oilily. "You seek an audience with our lord."   
  
"Indeed we do," the golden haired elf lord nodded, shooting a warning glance at Elladan who appeared close to losing his patience despite his earlier admonitions. "Would you show us to him then, my lord? Our business is most urgent."   
  
"Certainly," the man smiled again. "Please follow me."   
  
He turned around and began to walk into the direction of the grey main building that featured disconcertingly few windows. The four elves traded a dark, anxious look before they began to follow the man, not missing that several guards trailed after them. The sun chose just this moment to sink below the horizon, dimming the light and giving the buildings an even darker appearance, if such a thing was even possible.   
  
Celylith walked a few paces behind the twins, noticing with amusement that was mixed with mild anxiety that the brothers looked a lot like their father at the moment, with that dark, serious sparkle in their grey eyes. He quickly shook his head and hurried to catch up with the others, his eyes being drawn to a large, black horse that was just being urged back into the direction of the open stable doors at the far side of the courtyard.   
  
The animal triggered something in his mind, something he knew was important, and he nearly stumbled over the first step of the stairs that led up to the building. He followed his companions into the large, dark house, and after walking down more narrow, tunnel-like corridors than he had ever wanted to see, they stopped in front of a thick wooden double door, the guards behind them coming to a softly rattling stop.   
  
While he watched the man wearing the costly robes raise his hand and knock, he suddenly felt as if an invisible maniac had emptied an invisible bucket of invisible water over his head. The horse – he knew that horse! He had seen it before, and that could only mean…   
  
Celylith was just taking a step forward to inform his companions of what he had just found out, but then the doors were opened from the inside and they were invited to step inside, and that was the moment he realised that it was far too late now. 

  
  
Legolas stared at the face of the man next to him, reading on it the same horrible conclusion to which he had come himself a moment ago: The guards were back, and this time they wouldn't content themselves with only searching the lower levels of the house.   
  
Another two heavy, impatient-sounding knocks sounded from downstairs, bringing both man and elf out of the rigour that seemed to have taken hold of them. As one they shot to their feet, an identical look of fear and shock in their eyes.   
  
"So soon!" was all Laenro gasped before he seemed to get a hold of himself and took a deep breath. "Alright," he finally said, "come with me."   
  
"Come with you?" Legolas repeated incredulously, eyes wide and unbelieving. "What about my friend?"   
  
"He can't be moved, you heard Thesieni yourself," the man shook his head and impatiently grabbed the elven prince's arm. "We are running out of time, come with me!"   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head as well and wrenched his arm out of the human's grasp. "I won't leave him here alone to be recaptured!"   
  
Downstairs the small, creaking sound of an opening door could be heard, closely followed by the sound of many booted feet that stomped into the building. Laenro looked at the elf with almost panicked eyes, urgency emanating from every single pore of his body.   
"We don't have _time_!" he repeated. "We…"   
  
At this point Thesieni appeared at the door, her wizened face amazingly calm and composed.   
"Tell him, Laenro," she advised the young man. "Or we'll all be caught."   
  
Laenro gritted his teeth, daggers shooting out of his eyes, but he relented, listening intently to his second-in-command's voice who did his best to stall the soldiers.   
"Alright," he snapped at the elf who was glaring darkly at him. "You and Thesieni must not be found. You're an elf and stand out as easily as a black sheep, and Thesieni must not be seen here. We have an attic right above this room whose entrance is well-concealed. You will stay there until they're gone, and should they discover your friend here, you'll escape over the roof. Thesieni will take you to a safe place."   
  
"Absolutely not!" Legolas shook his head, eyes seemingly aflame. "I will not leave without him and escape while he is brought back to that castle!"   
  
"Yes, you will," Laenro retorted dispassionately and grabbed the elf's arm again. "I will tie you up and gag you if I have to, but I will not risk my men's lives for your misplaced sentiments! They will be here in a minute! Master Elf," he said insistently as he dragged the other into the direction of the door, "there is no other way! If you do not do as I say, we will all be captured, including your friend here! This way we have at least a chance!"   
  
Later Legolas realised that it had probably a good thing that he had been so utterly, completely exhausted and simply did not have the strength to fight the man. Had he been hale, he would have undoubtedly stayed where he was, but the way things were at the moment, he was pushed out of the room and down the corridor before he could even blink.   
He was still trying to force his jumbled mind to come up with something that would cause that man to let go of his arm and stop dragging him around when they stopped in front of what looked like the end of the narrow passage. To the left another room branched off, apparently a small bedroom that was a mirror image of the one they had just left, but in front of them the corridor stopped in a wall that was panelled with dark, age-worn wood.   
  
Legolas glared at Laenro and was opening his mouth to tell him just what he thought of his actions, but remained silent as the young man reached out and reached for a small nub protruding from the wood, almost invisible to the human eye. The man's fingers closed around it and pushed it backwards, and Legolas could only stare as the apparently solid wall moved back and then to the side, revealing on opening about three feet wide and five feet high. Sunbeams danced over the wooden steps visible just behind the false part of the wall, lending it a much more cheerful appearance than the dark corridor.   
  
The silence was interrupted when Laenro's second-in-command's outraged voice sounded from below, the underlying fear well hidden beneath indignation.   
"You cannot just barge in here and turn this building upside down! We have done nothing wrong and I have _told _you that we do not know where that dratted elf is! Why should we care anyway!? You cannot just go up there; these are the Master's private rooms!"   
  
The young human seemed to snap out of his short paralysis and motioned Thesieni to step through the opening, grabbing and shoving Legolas forward a second later without any concern for his injuries.   
"Go!" he hissed, already reaching for the wooden wall to swing it back into place. "I'll try my best to keep them out of your friend's room, I promise. Get up into the attic and _stay there_, in the Gods' name!"   
  
Before Legolas could protest, the concealed door closed behind them with a soft click, swiftly followed by the sound of Laenro's footsteps that retreated as the man hurried back to Aragorn's room. The elf felt a hand on his arm and raised his head, looking up into Thesieni's sympathetic eyes.   
"Come, Master Elf," she whispered softly. "There's nothing we can do now."   
  
The reasonable part of his mind accepted the validity of the elderly woman's words, and yet Thesieni had to more or less drag him up the stairs. A few moments later they entered the dusty, almost empty attic, which seemed to be a small compartment that had been separated from the rest of the attic. The small room they found themselves in was no bigger than ten square feet and had housed other fugitives before, judging by the small cot in the one corner and the supplies in the other.   
  
Thesieni nodded at Legolas who was standing like a statue, motionless as he listened to the guards who were noisily climbing the stairs to the second level of the house now.   
"Here," she whispered and pointed at a spot on the floor, "We are right above your friend's room. You can see all that is happening below if you look through this crack between the floorboards. I have done it before."   
  
As quickly as his injuries would allow him the elven prince had dropped to his knees, cursing his protesting ribs on the way, and lowered himself onto the rather dirty floor. On every other occasion he would probably have thought at least once about his quite undignified pose, but now all he was interested in was the room he could see beneath him.   
  
Laenro was sitting in the chair Legolas had been forced to leave only minutes ago, hiding his feelings of anxiety and fear admirably well. Aragorn was still deeply asleep, but Ethoani's brother had covered his still form up to the neck with blankets, no doubt to hide the numerous bandages that adorned his body. Laenro had also covered half of the unconscious ranger's face with the top blanket and had adjusted the cool cloth on his forehead so that a large part of his face was shielded from view. Had Legolas not been on the verge of panic, he would have nodded in approval. It was well done and didn't look deliberate in the slightest.   
  
Heavy footsteps drew him out of his thoughts, and two soldiers in the familiar livery stumbled into the room, stopping in their tracks when Laenro slowly got to his feet, a look of indignation and fury on his face that would have fooled more intelligent people than the two guards.   
  
"What is the meaning of this?" the young man demanded to know. "What do you think you're doing here?"   
  
"We…" one of them began.   
  
"Yes?" Laenro thundered, having apparently decided that attack was the best means of defence. "I hope you have a reason for this behaviour!"   
  
"We are here to search for the escaped prisoners!" the second guard answered boldly, his eyes sweeping over the small room.   
  
"Does my cousin look like an elf to you?" the young man retorted icily. "He is ill and needs rest, and your stomping through his room will not help matters!"   
  
"Well, no," the soldier admitted. "But there was a man with him. Our orders are to search every house in the city."   
  
"Then you may go back to your superiors and report that you have not found them here," Laenro answered darkly and was about to turn back to the young ranger. "And now leave, before I and my guild file a complaint with Lord Girion himself."   
  
The two soldiers traded a quick look and stepped out of the room, causing Legolas to breathe a sigh of relief – prematurely, as it turned out a moment later. The guards hadn't fully turned around when a shadow fell across the threshold as another man appeared in the door, closely followed by another. The elf felt how his heart froze in his chest. O Elbereth, no.   
  
"What is going on here?" the newcomer asked, in a deep, calm voice that Legolas would have recognised everywhere. Cendan. The Valar help them.   
  
The dark haired lieutenant quietly entered the room, his blue eyes locking with Laenro's for long moments. Behind him, Menvan nodded at the two soldiers, telling them in a low voice to help search the rest of the upper level. Cendan took another step forward, his menacing presence seemingly filling the entire room.   
  
"I asked a question, Master Laenro," the lieutenant said softly. "I expect an answer."   
  
Laenro swallowed hard, apparently hard-pressed to free himself of Cendan's dark gaze. His eyes quickly flickered to the insignia on the other's uniform as he came to the conclusion that there was no way he would fool this controlled lieutenant as easily as the two soldiers who had just left the room.   
  
"I really must protest, Lieutenant," he said nonetheless. "Your intrusion is understandable and we honour the laws, of course, but my cousin is gravely ill! He needs rest."   
  
Cendan merely stared emotionlessly at the younger man, his thoughts hidden behind his calm façade as always.   
"Your cousin," he finally said. "How unfortunate. What ails him?"   
  
"A sudden fever," Laenro shrugged, even managing to exude sympathy and concern for his "relative". "The healers assured us that he will be well again with enough rest and if he is not unduly disturbed."   
  
The other man wasn't overly impressed by the other's admonishing voice and turned back to Menvan who was standing on the threshold together with several of his men who had finished searching the upper level of the house.   
"Anything?"   
  
"Nothing, sir," Menvan shook his head, looking slightly puzzled.   
  
Above them, Legolas held his breath, not even noticing that his lungs were beginning to burn from lack of oxygen. 'Please let them leave,' he thought to himself, balling his hands into fists. 'Please, Eru, let Cendan be fooled, please let him leave, please, please, please…'   
  
His hopes turned to ashes as the young lieutenant suddenly whirled around, back to Laenro and the bed. Cendan's eyes were hard and determined, and Legolas could read in them what would happen as clearly as if it had been written on parchment.   
  
"I am familiar with many wounds and illnesses," the dark haired lieutenant said, taking a step forward. "Perhaps I can be of assistance?"   
  
"That won't be necessary," Laenro shook his head quickly. "The healers…"   
  
"Ah, but I insist," Cendan answered smoothly and stepped forward, shouldering the other man aside when he didn't move on his own. Laenro did not put up any resistance, knowing that it would be suicide with a dozen armed guards only an arm's length away.   
  
Cendan stopped next to the narrow bed, gazing at its still, motionless occupant, and without another word he reached out and pulled back the blanket that covered the unconscious ranger's bruised face.  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_Sedho__, mellon nín (S.) - Be calm, my friend  
Sí lertalyë serë; narelvë __varna__, meldonya (Q.) - You can rest now; we are safe, my friend  
ada (S.) - father (daddy)  
Men beriar aen, Estel. Losto (S.) - We are safe, Estel. Sleep.  
  
  
  
  
_**Well, only two things come to mind: When will Celylith go and try to tame the adorable little ox and what the heck have the four of them been _thinking_?! Oh, and there's also the question of what Cendan will do, of course. *evil grin* I mentioned I love cliffies, didn't I? Okay, the next chapter will be****here in a week, with more of Cendan, Menvan and his friends, more of the stupidest elves in all of Arda and a little more of the dear Girion, who, due to popular demand, finds out whom he just let slip out of his grasp. No, he's not happy. *g* As always, review please!!  
  
  
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_**Additional A/N:  
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_Twinlakeshgrl** - Yes, I know that the other version is more common. The one I used isn't even mentioned in most texts. It's just that I thought that, if a shorter version existed, Aragorn would use it in that situation. You know, it's easier to hiss. *g*   
**Deana** - *g* I'm sure you're not the only one! Aragorn and Legolas must be rather relieved as well... *g* Thanks for all the reviews!  
**Firniswin** - Well, I'm sorry about the cliffy. You know, there's another one coming up, and to be perfectly honest, there just _might_ be another one coming up after that... And there won't be much Aragorn talking in this chapter either. He's not really up to it, and he won't be either in the next few chapters, I fear... BUT he'll wake up. That's something, isn't it?  
**Nara** - *snorts* You could say that. He just might be a tiny bit protective. Just a TINY bit of course. I for my part place Legolas' age at about 2600, which of course means he's about 2550 years past his majority, but that's up to each one of us, I guess. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Marbienl** - Don't worry, I wasn't planning to see Gothika. I thought the trailer was stupid, and I don't like Halle Berry very much. It's good to know that it's bad. *g* You're right, of course. It takes me about a day to reply to all the reviews and to proofread the chapters. I didn't even have time for the latter the last time. *sheepish grin* *snorts* Anamaria, eh? Well, I'm not really sure if that's good or bad. *shakes head* Really, I know no person who jumps to conclusions as quickly as you do! No, she's not related to Adruran, and no, he won't turn up again. LOL, yes, the guard who reported to Girion was brave. He was also slightly stupid, but that's another story. *g* I don't know about the waking up-part, to be honest, since he won't do it any time in ther near future. I'll see what I can do though, perhaps I could put some confusion into it. *g*   
**Red Tigress** - *g* I'm glad you see it that way. I never really watched Batman, so you could tell me anything you wanted and I would still believe you. *g* I feel very sorry for Cendan, to be honest. And you're right, of course, their freedom is at least seriously jeopardised... *evil grin*   
**Linuvial**** Greenleaf** - Well, thank you! It's great to hear that you like my insane little stories! I am not a great fan of slash fanfic either, because I really think that Tolkien intended most of them to be just friends, even though I have to admit that it's rather funny to see what pairings some people come up with. My personal favourite is Thranduil/Dáin. *g* I really hope the cliffies aren't too bad - I love them, did I mention that? I guess so... Thanks a lot for the great feedback!**  
Amelie** - Oh, don't worry. Real Life can be a b****, and I know you have lots to do - being sick, for example. I really hope you're better, and I am of course not angry with you. And that was really ... cheerful. Honestly. *smiles sheepishly* And yes, I said it before, but I'll tell you again: Girion wants to know about Mirkwood's defences because he knows that the Elves won't stand idly by and watch him conquer all of Wilderland and their allies. King Thranduil would never do that, Girion knows that, and so he wants to be prepared for the very likely case that the Elvenking will go to war about Lake-town and Dale. And I really hate Mary-Sues, they give all the female characters a bad name. *shudders* And perhaps I'll burn the paper once I get it back, thanks for the suggestion! *g*  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - *g* Thank you. I like to be honest! So you should reward my frankness and put down your weapon, don't you think? *g* Great you liked Ethoani. I like her myself (she's kinda my friend Jack's alter ego), but she's not a Mary-Sue. She's not even really a main character... *looks at Sadie the giant pretzel* Well, that looks ... interesting! Painful, but interesting! *g* And I agree with you: It should have been Teonvan. *sighs* This is really not a perfect world... *g*  
**Smile Neumann** - *g* Just HOW did you know that? Yes, you're right, he lives. I know, LotR and all that might have been a little give away, but... *g* And who am I too mess - too badly - with Tolkien? Never! *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Lyn** - Please, _never_ hesistate to offer any suggestions, especially when you want to point out mistakes. There were especially many of them last chapter since I didn't have much time to proofread. *g* Thank you for pointing the mistakes out, they just slipped through. They do that all the time. *g*  
**Bookworm, .303** - Well, yes, they are, kinda, anyway. I mean, you should define "rescue", I think. They're getting to the town at least, that's something, right? And you're right of course, Elrond wouldn't be too happy if I killed Estel. Ah well... *shrugs* Then I won't.  
**Sonnylover** - Yeah, I guess you did read it after all. *g* Oh, I was thinking about doing archaeology myself, but then I saw what my friends who do it have to do. It's too much aesthetics more my taste, and too much about architecture. I know, that's what the whole thing is about, but still. Too much for me. *g* LOL, I can imagine that you would inflict a different torture on our dear ranger. I don't really know what he'd prefer, though... *evil grin* Thanks for the great emails!   
**Thorn of the Green Leaf** - LOL, indeed! They have the worst luck EVER. So you're hooked now? Well, I really hope this story won't truly endanger your life, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Grumpy** - Yeah, it was supposed to be a surprise. I didn't want Cendan to come and rescue them, since it something he'd never have done and it would have been far too predictable! Oh Jeez, you're right, I did move the tents. I'm sorry, I didn't think. (what else is new, I know) I guess the matches would still work, though. I don't know who's going to kill Teonvan, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. It's more fun this way. *evil grin*  
**Crippled Raven** - LOL, that doesn't suprise me one bit! We too did several things in Physics and Chemistry I just can't remember and would be able to swear I've never seen before... I just hate all sciences except Biology. *shudders* They're evil, that's what they are. Sorry to hera that your week was bad, but life after school IS even worse. I know, after the A-levels everyone said "Just you wait, you're going to miss school!" and I always said "No way in Hell", and, well, I have to admit that school was so much easier. *shrugs* Whatever. So you know one German swearword? Do I dare to ask which one? And I think you deserved detention, it's not very nice to greet someone by insulting him, huh? *g*  
**Chibi**** Noin** - Oh yes, I'm currently on page 421, I think. It's horrible, really, I can't make them stop. *wails* They don't listen to me! And as long as you don't start growing fur on your feet, I think your appetite is fine with me! Thanks for the review!  
**Tychen** - *blinks* Well, thanks, I guess. That sounded serious. But you're right, of course. We all watched Star Wars, after all, right? *g* And I had these random images as well. Well, to be honest, I have them all the time, no matter whether I'm in pain or not. *creepy grin* Don't tell me, I'm insane. And you are right! You are one of the few who didn't say that Glorfindel and Co. were going to rescue them! They're going to join the fray, but that's about all... *evil grin*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Uhm, you don't? Well, I'm sorry to hear that, of course. What can I say - I love cliffies? And you're right, it would have been VERY funny if they had all fallen into the Enchanted River and had got eaten by Wilwarin and her family. *evil grin* Well, I'll see what I can do...  
**Elvendancer** - Yes, I guess you could say that. Some of us like cliffies more than other, and some of us even LOVE them! *g* I for example! I adore cliffies! *insane grin* Uhm, sorry about that. Just a little outburst. Great you don't mind them too much. You were in trouble too if you did... *g*  
**Gwyn** - Well, let me put it this way. The twins will ARRIVE now, but I never said they would find them, did I? Nope, I'm reasonably certain I didn't. And sorry, Legolas won't be recaptured, he's about the only person lucid and/or conscious who knows what's going on. I need him, otherwise I'll get nothing done here. But don't worry, there are still loads of other people who are just waiting to be captured... *evil grin* And thanks for pointing the mistake out. I didn't have enough time to proofread last time, so there are lots in that chapter! *sheepish smile*  
**Aromene** - Well, it wasn't all that bad, actually. The only thing that really bothered me about the topic were all the _stupid_ reasons these people gave for killing their enemies. Reasons so stupid that you might want to cry. *shakes head* People are so stupid. Glad you liked Girion. He can be wonderfully angry, can't he? *g*  
**Jenihenpen** - Yes, I guess our dear elven prince is stubborn. No, let me rephrase that: He most definitely IS stubborn. And I am very sorry to say that, but there will be no Elrond in this story. Lots in the next one, but not this one. Not enough time for him to even get there. Damn those mountains. *g* Sorry.  
**Aratfeniel** - Ah, I don't know, I think Boromir was rather nice too. Very pincushy, if you ask me. *g* Great you liked Ethoani, but I am sorry, there won't be much Rashwe in this chapter, at least I think so. Too many other things to write about, sorry. *g*  
**Sirithiliel** - Great to hear that you had fun. Nice to see that you enjoyed the last chapter, I hope you'll like this one as well! Thanks for all the reviews!  
**Jack** - Jack, huh? Well, it's an interesting name, that's for sure. *g* I don't even want to know why you chose it. Probably something to do with 'Milzriss', huh? *g* But I have to admit that I didn't know that you were you (if you see what I mean *g*) until I read the last sentence. Well done, congrats! And I can tell you where such a nice person such as myself gets all these evil ideas: From you! Does the word "spikes" or "Zitteraal" mean anything to you? *g* I thought so... What a ... surprise (*g*) to hear that you like Ethoani, and thank you very much for all your help! This fic would be less insane and evil without you! *huggles*  
**Tapetum**** Lucidum** - Yes, I know, FF.net is being especially difficult once again. It's horrible, really. *shakes head* It hates me, I swear it does. But it also might be connected to your small internet supplier. Honestly, "AOL"? Never heard of it... *g* Great you liked it so far. And you're right: Legolas might have stood out just a little without the cloak. Just a tiny little bit, of course... *g* *hangs head* You're right about them having lost some family members. I am getting rather predictable, aren't I? And Legolas is most definitely going to be stressed out... *evil grin* Oh yes. Well, thanks for the review! *huggles*  
**Stacee**** Phelps** - Don't we all? Need more, I mean? More time, more sugar, more diet coke, more... *trails off* Oh, you were talking about the cliffy? Sorry... I promise to get everything ready this weekend, I hope that's okay. I'll take it over to my friend's and we'll see what we can come up with. Okay?  
**Zam**** Kenobi** - I AM SO SORRY! I MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY AGAIN! I mean, I knew when it was, I even put it into my diary (which I never use, but still), and I missed it! I am so sorry! Happy Birthday!!! What's a week among friend, huh? *insecure grin* See, I even got you a present! *Zam takes large box* *Zam unwraps large box* *Zam faints with scream of terror* It's Wolf-Sauron! Right from the War of the Jewels, isn't he adorable? *large wolf tries to bite off her hand like Beren's* Sweet boy! Oh, and I could have told Eöl that working for you was a mistake. But does he listen to me? Noo, of course not... Once again, sorry for missing your birthday, I hope you'll forgive me! *falls down at her feet and grovels* Please?!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Uhm, yes, 'a little bit upset' is quite the correct term, I believe. I don't know why either, Girion is SOOO short-tempered... *shakes head* You caught a cold? Stay away from me then! *g* No, j/k, I hope you're better now. This is just the perfect time and weather for colds - at least here. *g*  
**Elenillor** - No computer access for so long? And you survived? Jeez, you are a very brave person... Thanks for reviewing now, anyway. Enjoy your computer!  
**TrustingFriendship** - Well, I guess everybody in this story is at least caught once. Some even more, I think. I'm mad, I know. *g* You are indeed right, our favourite rescue party will indeed not be very capable of blending in. *g* Poor them, huh?  
**Firnsarnien** - Yes, that was more or less the idea, to surprise you guys. Oh, and let me state here and now that this is a work of fiction. It's not supposed to be a mirror of current events in the world. I did not think for a second of Saddam when I wrote this, and there won't be a "coalition" force coming to liberate (or invade, depends on your view) Rhûn. In fact, if it somehow should, I'll personally kill my alter ego. *g* But you are more than welcome to try and kick Girion's butt, of course. And a week isn't that long, is it? *ducks blunt objects* Well, maybe it is, sorry...  
**Shauna** - To be perfectly honest, I didn't do it to you personally. I did it to all my readers! *runs off cackling evilly* But I have to tell you that I didn't change anything since I'm always two chapters ahead. So this chapter was already written when I posted ch. 21. *g* Sorry that I didn't update sooner, but I really don't have the time at the moment. *g* Sorry.  
**Bailey** - *g* Yes, I think that's quite a good summary! Well done! Even though I wouldn't necessarily call them traitors. They're more resistance fighters. You know, like in the Résistance in France. I've always liked them. But you're right of course, Girion wouldn't share that view. *g*   
**Katie** - Not bad, really! Three days for the three stories, two of which are rather long - kudos! *g* To be perfectly honest, I did never like Goethe (or Schiller for that matter) overly much. I liked Faust though, but only the first part. Try as I might, I just didn't understand what they were talking about in the second. *g* Weimar Republic is rather interesting though, even though it's really hard to read all the stupid reasons these people came up with for killing other people. The sad fact is that they really believed what they were talking. *shakes head* Truly sad. Well, thanks for the review!  
**Karone**** Evertree** - Yeah, we humans need an awful lot of sleep, don't we? *snickers* Poor Legolas, he needs to be really patient... Thanks for the good wishes, one of the papers if done. I don't know if it's bad or good yet, but we'll see. *g*  
**Snow-Glory** - It's nice to hear that you like Ethoani. I like her myself, even if she's a rather complicated character. But then again, aren't they all? I can't make any promises about Girion getting them again, but only because I haven't planned everything yet. Sorry. *g* Thanks for all your reviews!  
***Falling Star*** - *blushes* Thank you! It's great you like it so far! I'm glad it didn't actually fly you into the dungeons - though I have to admit that saving them wouldn't have been so bad. Then again, I would have been captured in a matter of seconds - I'm a hopeless case. *sighs* LOL, great you didn't forget eating. I would hate to hear that one of my reviewers actually starved to death. *g*   
**Maranwe1** - Yup, I have to agree. The three of them are actually rather similar. There are subtle differences, of course, but essentially they're all insane and evil. *g* Uhm, to be honest I don't know what I meant anymore. I really was in a hurry since I had to get to my sister's gig (which was ... interesting *g*) and can't remember what I meant. Just ignore it. *g* Uhm, no, Weimar isn't in Russia. It's more in Germany; the Weimar Republic usually describes the period between the revolution in 1918 and 1933 when Hitler was appointed Chancellor. Officially it was never abolished till '45, but the Third Reich was hardly a republic, so... And I was assigned, more or less. I had to pick a course about that period, and so I chose "Violence in the Weimar Republic". Don't ask me why, I must have been insane. But I didn't choose the political murders, even though they are among the more interesting topics. And yes, the twins ARE that stupid, sorry. Must be genetic. *g* So there's no "it were"? Okay, I'll try to remember that. It's just hard, since it's one of these things that exist in German and not in English. I'll never really remember that, I fear. And I'm glad you didn't write down all the mistakes last chapter. I didn't have time to really proofread, so there are lots. *g* Uhm, how do you pronounce the healer's name? Well, something like [θe:zıεnı]. *frowns* I hope I got that right. More or less like like it looks. LOL, you're right, Thesieni might be DEAD!! *g* That's a rather funny idea. I mean, I think it's funny, so it probably isn't. *g* I'm evil, I know.  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - You are the only person I know who would comment Aragorn pain with "Yum". *g* Which, essentially, means that you are insane. *blinks* "The ever freezing, fanfic reading Trin-pop, available in many flavours"? *backs away slowly* Aalllriiiiiight, whatever you say... *g*  
**Jera** - Short? You call that short? Well, if you say so... LOL, yes indeed, Vive la Résistance! I've always liked them. Glad you liked the random thoughts. I have them quite often often actually, even when I am completely pain-free. Which is not good or normal, I know. *g* I'm rather glad you're contemplating Cendan, to be honest. I think he's a much more adorable character than Sangwar, who is just a minor character anyway. I think he won't get much more than one other scene in this story. Poor him. *g* The really interesting thing is that the twins and Co. don't even know that Girion is behind the whole thing. Just because he's the lord of a town in Rhûn doesn't mean he's responsible for their kidnapping, does it? Hey, I don't think you're a geek - well, maybe you are, but so am I. I know more Sindarin than French, and, considering France is right next door, that's really pathetic. Oh, and I read an article about that topic, and don't worry, English won't take over the world, or so they claim. It will only be one among a group of important languages, such as Russian and Chinese and Spanish and Arabic, and they will take over the world together! Ain't that great? *sarcastic grin* And your job sounds very interesting! It really does - I really have to get one like it! And I know exactly what you mean, I just hate this kind of tourists myself. They're an embarassment to their respective countries if you ask me. *g*  
**Suzi** - Hmm, last evening I was very well indeed, thank you! How are you this fine evening? *g* The political murders were alright, I guess. I now have this stupid paper about the Dutch-Spanish conflict in the colonies between 1609 and 1621. Wonderful, huh? Well, that lecture sounds interesting, and I would say that the Oedipus conflict always adds to social tension? I mean, if you want to kill/replace your father - that's a little tense, isn't it? *g* LOL, the dreaded G word? Well, girls aren't that bad, are they? Hey, you are one! *points accusingly* Wait a second, so am I! And yes, we'll have a littl run-in with the patriarchal, chauvinistic, sexist society that is ME, in form of her brother who would rather have his sister at home knitting or something. *g* And I guess they didn't like Éowyn much, but that's okay. Neither do I. *g* Exactly! Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you! And I like the name James. I mean, there are names I like better, for example Connor (don't tell your cousin) or Ian (don't ask me why, I just love them), but James isn't bad! And I envy you - we never had a secret passage. We had a very large scary cellar though. *g* Sorry to hear about your family crisis, I hope it's not too bad! *huggles her and gives her cookies* Here, this should make it better! *g*  
**Carrie** - Well, that's enough for me, don't worry! *g* And I'm not THAT evil! I mean, I can be nice to them! I know that I'm not very often, but that doesn't mean that I can't - right? Anyway, thank you very much for taking the time to let me know what you think - I really appreciate it! Thanks! *huggles*  
**Sabercrazy** - *pats her back sympathetically* I know how you feel. It's an evil website from hell, bent on driving all of us insane. The worst bit is that it's succeeding! *beams* I am a new breed of evil? That's so sweet, thank you! And I hate to say it, but a _Mini_-Celylith isn't very scary. And you're right, these people are products of my mind - but I don't like them! I know, it's hard to understand, but I don't necessarily like the people I create. I hate Teonvan, for example. I liked Geran, but I don't like Teonvan. *shrugs* I'm random, don't tell me. *wide-eyed* Me? A female villain? *looks at plans for next story* Never! LOL, I LOVE the tag team! I can just picture it! *snickers* And yes, more fun to come! And this time with Celylith, Glorfindel and the twins! Yay! *g* Thanks for the long review!  
**Iccle**** Fairy** - *narrows eyes* Where is that slang translator when you need it? Well, never mind... I'll just guess you liked it! Thanks a lot! I also like cliffies, I'm afraid, but they're not TOO bad, are they? I really hope you managed to wait without ripping all your hair out, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Alasse**** Tiwele** - Oh, I'm sure FF.ner ate the review. It does it all the time; I think it hates me. *g* I'm sorry for not posting sooner, but I really don't have the time at the moment. Glad you liked it so far, thanks for taking the time to review!  
**Ellyrianna** - *g* I know what you mean. There's never enough time, the day should have at least 28 hours if you ask me - mainly so you can sleep 4 hours longer! *g* *watches as cement feather crushes Legolas* Well, that is an interesting way to go, that much is sure... *g* You like Laenro? Well, I don't think he's very much like Faramir, at least not like the Book-Faramir. I hate the Movie-Faramir, but I guess Laenro might be a bit like him. Poor Laenro. *g* LOL, so my chapter titles are disappointing? Well, I have to admit that it's becoming kinda hard to come up with good ones - after all, including this chapter, I have had to come up with 76! But I have to admit I like at least some of them, for example the one for ch. 24 or ch.7. But you just might be right, you know. *g*   
**Iverson** - I completely understand, don't worry. It's very kind of you to review at all when you have so little time, so I'm most certainly not complaining. *g* Great to hear that you still like it though. *g* Don't worry about the reviews! *huggles*  
**Isadora2** – Also, ich muss doch aufs Heftigste protestieren! Laenro und Co. gleichen der Judaeischen Volksfront nicht im geringsten! Es gibt auch keine Suizidabteilung oder aehnliches! Das sind alles aeusserst ernstzunehmende Terroristen, also keine fiesen Witzchen hier! *g* Und wie genau soll ich das verstehen, ich soll Aragorn schimmeln lassen? Was sollen denn dann die Zwillinge sagen, wenn sie ihren kleinen Bruder mit einem gruenen Schimmelpelz bedeckt finden?! *g* Aber keine Angst, der dumme blonde (ziemlich sehr dumme, wenn du mich fragst) Waldelb wird sich noch ne Weile sorgen. Dass macht er doch auch so gut… Und das mit dem Blind Date muss ich mir mal ueberlegen. Habt ihr Schotten? Ich liebe den schottischen Akzent, da liesse sich dann was machen… *g* Okay, wie immer, danke fuers Riesen-Review und noch viel Spass beim lesen!

  
**Yes****, I know that the twins ****and Co. are behaving exceptionally stupid! Must be genetic - at least for the twins... *evil grin* Thanks a lot for all the wonderful reviews!**  
  
  



	24. A Spider In the Web

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Hmm, yes, I knew this would be coming up sooner or later. Alright, the Asfaloth-thing. Now that the third person has inquired about what the heck I have been thinking, I'd better explain it. Well, I guess there isn't much to explain. *g* I don't know either whether or not elven horses live longer than 'normal' ones, even though I suspect it since Roheryn got quite old as well I think. The only reason why I keep referring to Glorfindel's horse as Asfaloth is actually that I did the same thing in AEFAE in chapter 2 I think. I may have many character flaws, but I stick to my mistakes. Hmm, now that I think about it I guess that's yet another one, but hey. *g* So you can either pretend that Asfaloth is _the_ Asfaloth from FOTR, Chapter 12, or that Glorfindel has no imagination whatsoever and calls all his horses Asfaloth. *shrugs* Whatever makes you happy.  
  
Alright, now to the important things: Thank you! *huggles stunned readers* I thank you all so very much for your wonderful death threats! I _love_ death threats, they make me feel all happy and warm inside... *g* But I have to agree with you of course: They should have known better. All of them should have, in fact, especially our (perhaps rather unimaginative) dear golden haired balrog slayer. *shrugs* Well, it's not exactly their fault I guess. I just couldn't resist, and Girion wanted to gloat so much that I just couldn't refuse him. I know, I should learn to say No to my characters. *g*  
  
  
Well, here we are at least, with the conclusion to last chapter's cliffy. I don't know if this one has yet another one - I don't think so - but I have made the experience that, no matter what I do, a third of you screams "Cliffy! Evil! Mean! Sadistic!" anyway. *g* Be that as it may, here's chapter 24, with more of Cendan and his friends, more of Legolas (the stubborn ranger's still asleep, I'm afraid) and the resistance whose members aren't overly happy at the moment and, last but certainly not least, Glorfindel and Co. who find themselves in deep, deep trouble. *evil grin* Who'd have thought?  
  
Enjoy and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 24  
  
  
Legolas' would later swear that his heart stopped for at least ten seconds. The temperature in the small, stifling attic seemed to drop below the freezing point, and for a few moments it felt as if the floor opened up beneath him and he went into a free fall that seemed to last for half an eternity.   
  
Why did it have to be Cendan? There had to be dozens, no, hundreds of lieutenants in Girion's army, and which one led the search in this house? Cendan! By the Valar, this was no bad luck; they were cursed, they really were!   
  
A part of Legolas wanted to jump up and run down the stairs, but try as he might, he couldn't move a single muscle. He seemed to have frozen to the spot, frozen to the cool, dust-covered floorboards. Not even an apparition of Ilúvatar and all the Valar could have made him move even an inch, and all his attention was fixed on the room a level beneath him.   
  
Any second now, a shrill voice inside his head told him almost spitefully. Any second now Cendan would turn around to his men and proclaim that they had all done a great job and had found one of the prisoners. Perhaps he'd even do a little victory dance – even though that would be highly out of character for the dark haired lieutenant…   
  
Cendan appeared indeed as averse as humanly possible to doing a dance, for he remained where he was, staring emotionlessly at the uncovered face of the young ranger lying in the bed. Ten seconds passed, then twenty and maybe even more, and still did he not say anything, apparently engrossed in the sight in front of him and oblivious to the tension in the room. Laenro was doing his best to hide the worry and fear that wanted to break through his carefully erected façade while the soldiers standing in the doorway, especially Menvan, were slowly beginning to look definitely impatient.   
  
Why didn't he do something, Legolas asked himself, feeling both worried out of his mind and more confused than he could ever remember being. Why didn't he say something, why was this infuriating man just standing there? He had never truly understood Cendan's actions and wouldn't claim that he knew how the man's mind worked, but one thing he had never doubted was the lieutenant's devotion to his mission. Why wasn't he doing something??   
  
Nearly half a minute after he had thrown back the blanket Cendan straightened back up, the calm, emotionless mask still firmly attached to his face.   
"Your … cousin doesn't look too good."   
  
"No," Laenro agreed, looking about as shaken and confused as Legolas felt. "No, he does indeed not. The healers were quite worried for a while as well." He paused for a moment and added, "They even thought the sickness might be contagious."   
  
Cendan arched an eyebrow, appearing amused more than anything else.   
"If that is so, then it may be best if we left you to care for your kinsman, Master Laenro. Forgive us our unannounced intrusion."   
  
"Certainly," the younger man nodded eagerly, apparently still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "You are simply following your orders."   
  
"Precisely," Cendan agreed, a mirthless smile on his lips. He nodded at Menvan who nodded back and turned around, beginning to usher the soldiers back into the direction of the stairs. The dark haired lieutenant waited for a few seconds before he followed his men, but stopped on the threshold and turned back to look at the younger man whose face was still so pale that it effortlessly might have been confused with a ghost's.   
  
"I have need of a few small, well-made barrels to transport some goods to the house of some distant relatives of mine," he told Laenro conversationally. "I need them soon, for my relatives will be leaving within in the week – to the West. It would be most unfortunate if they left too soon. I will return tomorrow at dawn so we can discuss the … details of our future transaction."   
  
"Oh, yes, of course, Lieutenant," Laenro managed to say, still not having moved an inch since he had been shoved to the side by Cendan only minutes earlier. "Feel free to look us up any time you wish to."   
  
"I fully intend to," Cendan retorted, giving Aragorn a last look. "Trust me, Master Laenro. I fully intend to. A pleasant night to you and your … cousin."   
  
Another dark, but still amused look flittered over the lieutenant's face as he turned around and disappeared out of the door, his footsteps soon fading as he walked down the stairs. A minute later the sounds of the soldiers leaving the house faded as well as the door once again swung shut, and Laenro slowly sank down onto the chair next to the ranger's bed, apparently still greatly shocked.   
  
The brown haired man looked up when the wooden stairs once again creaked softly in protest against the weight placed on them, and a few seconds later two men appeared in the door, looking as if they had just escaped certain death – which they had, actually.   
  
"They're gone," Sero, Laenro's grey haired second-in-command, reported. "They have entered the shop next to us and seem to have lost interest in us."   
  
Laenro merely nodded, leaning back in his chair. He nodded at the second man and weakly waved a hand.   
"Get them out of the attic. I have no idea what is going on, but I know they will not return."   
  
The grey haired man looked rather doubtful but complied, turning to the left and swiftly disappeared down the corridor into the direction of the hidden door. The other man shook his head and stepped into the room, running a slightly shaking hand through his hair.   
"Well, that was … different."   
  
"Oh yes," Laenro nodded, noticing the creaking noise somewhere to his right that indicated that Sero had opened the door leading to the attic. "And I don't know if I like that change. I think I would be less ill at ease if they had simply arrested all of us and dragged us to the dungeons. Not that I'm complaining, of course, but…"   
  
A moment later footsteps could be heard, and sooner than any of the men had thought possible the fair haired elf appeared in the door, his face the colour of blotched marble. His eyes darted from the two men to the bed, to the door and then back to the bed again.   
"They're really gone?" he breathed.   
  
"Yes," Laenro nodded, his eyes turning hard and distrustful once again. "Yes, they're gone, and I would very much like to know why."   
  
Legolas did not answer and merely sighed deeply, walking slowly up to the bed and sitting down on the empty chair. Thesieni gave the four men and the elf a quick look and disappeared down the corridor into the direction of the stairs, mumbling something about healing herbs.   
"Thank Elbereth," he said softly. "I thought this was it."   
  
"This still might be it, elf!" the brown haired man exclaimed, leaning forward to glare at the blond being. "What was this all about? Who was that, and why did he just leave? Don't tell me he didn't recognise your friend here!"   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head while he carefully placed a hand on his human friend's forehead, "He did recognise him, you're right. That was Cendan, the second-in-command of the captain whose men captured me and my friend."   
  
"So he knew who he is and that you were most likely in the building as well?" Laenro asked incredulously. "Then why didn't he arrest us and took credit for your capture? Girion would have been most pleased and would surely have promoted him!"   
  
"I don't know," the elf admitted softly. "I do not have any answers for you. Cendan's behaviour is as mysterious to you as it is to me. I never had the feeling that he might be willing to betray his lord or his mission."   
  
"So the dear lieutenant had a sudden change of heart and decided that he valued your and your ranger friend's lives above his own?"   
  
"As I already told you," Legolas repeated, a sharp edge in his voice, "I do not know. I think that we will receive answers once he decides to come and 'visit' us – not a second earlier."   
  
"That is unacceptable," Laenro answered curtly. "Do you know for how many people I am responsible? Do you know how many people I and my friends here could betray, or how many people could unwittingly betray themselves by coming to this house? I cannot just sit here and wait for one of Girion's officers to make up his mind about whether or not he should turn us in!"   
  
"He won't turn us in," the elf shook his head. "He could have done that a few minutes ago. I do not know why he is doing this or even what exactly it is he is doing, but he won't turn us in."   
  
"He's an Easterling," one of Laenro's companions shrugged dismissively. "Or at least half of him is; it is as clear as the light of day. No-one knows what goes on inside their heads behind those emotionless façades of theirs."   
  
"Well," Legolas said a little bit sharper than he had wanted to, "this particular Easterling is even more introvert and harder to read than most. All I can tell you that he hates Teonvan and was loyal to Captain Reran, yet he never openly opposed him after the latter's death."   
  
"I've heard some rumours," Laenro nodded thoughtfully. "Is there truth in it that Teonvan killed the captain?"   
  
"Aye," Legolas nodded, staring at his sleeping friend's face, lost in thought. "He did, that much is sure. Cendan knows it too, and so do most of his men, I think."   
  
"Does he hate Teonvan enough to help us?"   
  
Legolas shook his head, thoroughly annoyed now.   
"As I said, Master Laenro, I don't…"   
  
"You don't know," Laenro nodded. "I am sorry, Master Elf. But something like this has never happened before."   
  
"So I see," Legolas mumbled softly.   
  
"I assume to try and convince you to leave would be pointless?" Laenro asked darkly.   
  
"Extremely," Legolas nodded dryly with a small, exhausted move of his head. "I will not leave my friend here alone."   
  
The brown haired man and his companions shared a quick look, and after a nod from their leader the two of them soundlessly got to their feet and left the room. Laenro stayed for another few moments before he rose as well, giving the elf a look full of annoyance, exasperation and even a little sympathy.   
  
"Before all this is over, I will kill my sister, that I promise you," he told the elf darkly who seemed to have lost even the small reserve of strength that had enabled him to keep going until now. Realising that he might just as well try to talk to a statue, he added, "There is nothing we can do now. I will instruct my men to spread the word among our people that this place is no longer safe and will send as many as I can to other safe houses. We can only wait for that Cendan to make his move and try to contain the damage already done as best as we can."   
  
Legolas nodded emotionlessly, exhaustion slowly beginning to overwhelm him. He knew that he couldn't let his guard down, that they weren't safe here in this house, especially not now, and that he couldn't leave Aragorn alone, but he also knew that did no longer have a choice in that matter. He hadn't slept for more than two days, and that on top of his injuries was beginning to take its toll. That near-heart attack he had suffered less than half an hour ago when Cendan had entered the room had done nothing to help matters either.   
  
Laenro smiled, one of the few genuine smiles the elf had seen on his face until now.   
"I will ask Thesieni to come and check on your friend once again. I will also see if my men can find a bed that fits in here. You need rest. We still have a lot to talk about, but nothing will change in a few hours."   
  
"I…" Legolas began, deciding that someone had replaced the air all around him with a thick, syrupy liquid; it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open and to keep track of what was happening around him. He did not doubt that, in five minutes at the most, he would keel over and fall face-down onto Aragorn's chest and would most likely break a few of the man's ribs in the process. That would be just their kind of luck, wouldn't it?   
  
"You need rest," the man shook his head stubbornly, looking much like his sister for a moment. "Thesieni told me so herself, and far be it from my mind to upset her. You will rest and tomorrow morning before the sun rises we will sit down and talk. If this Cendan comes here and wants to expose us, we will have to be ready."   
  
With a tremendous effort, Legolas blinked and pulled himself together. As much as he hated to admit it, the word "rest" sounded most appealing, and "bed" was nearly enough to send him to sleep immediately.   
"Very well," he inclined his head, noticing to his dismay that it was disconcertingly hard to convince his neck to lift it again. "If Thesieni thinks it necessary, I will comply with her wishes, of course. It is never wise to antagonise a healer."   
  
"Indeed," Laenro smiled again, suddenly appearing much younger. "They are the only beings I fear more than Grion or his guards." He gave the elf a curt nod and turned around to leave the room. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then. We have much to discuss before the dear lieutenant arrives here."   
  
A few seconds later he was gone, and Legolas was alone with his unconscious friend. He was still trying to muster enough strength to reach out and wet the cloth on Aragorn's forehead – he had been able to move his hand at least ten inches in the past five minutes, which was quite an achievement in his eyes – when Thesieni appeared in the door, trailed by two men who were carrying a narrow pallet that looked as if it just might fit into the small room.   
  
The next few minutes passed far too quickly for Legolas to really comprehend, and all he could later remember was that Thesieni announced that Aragorn's condition had improved and that she expected him to wake up tomorrow morning and that the men somehow managed to wedge the pallet into the narrow space between Aragorn's bed and the wall without disturbing the sleeping ranger.   
  
The next thing the blond elf knew was that he was lying on something soft and rather comfortable, and not even the memory of Cendan's peculiar behaviour and the danger they were all in could stop him from drifting off to sleep in a matter of seconds.   


  
  
Menvan's eyes were boring holes into his back, something that wouldn't have bothered him at all him under normal circumstances. These, however, were certainly anything but, mainly because he couldn't believe himself what he had just done.

Cendan forced the worried frown off his face and stared at the wall of the room his men were currently searching. They had searched this house before, and they would most likely search it again, even though he – and Menvan, apparently – knew perfectly well that they wouldn't find what they were looking for.   
  
The dark haired lieutenant shook his head, inwardly marvelling at his own stupidity. What in the name of all the Gods had he been thinking? Why had he done something so foolish? If he had observed such behaviour in someone else, he would have stated without hesitation that that someone was mad, completely and utterly mad. What he had just done was treason; it was as simple as that. And there was only one punishment for treason.   
  
"Sir?" Menvan's soft voice drew him out of his musings, and he looked up, straight into the other man's large brown eyes that were as expressionless as always. "There is something you should see, out in the garden. I think the men can cope without us for a few moments."   
  
Cendan let his gaze wander over the soldiers who were taking their duty very seriously indeed. What had once been the orderly storage room of a small grocery store was only one step short of descending into complete chaos: Barrels had been opened and thrown over, boxes had been moved and every single square inch of the floor was in the process of being meticulously examined in the search for hidden trapdoors. The lieutenant grinned inwardly. A pity they wouldn't find anything.   
  
"Indeed," he nodded at Menvan after a second. "Lead the way."   
  
Menvan nodded and turned around, and Cendan followed him after giving the soldiers a long, dark and admonishing stare that threatened them with a lot of unpleasant repercussions should they interrupt their work for even a second. None of the men returned his look or even met his eyes, and so he left the room only a few seconds after the brown haired soldiers, confident that they would work on as efficiently and quickly as if he were standing right behind them. Sometimes, he thought somewhat amusedly, a reputation like his, not to mention his ancestry, did have its advantages after all.   
  
They came past several other groups of soldiers who were very busy turning the house upside down, passed the house's owners who were apparently torn between anger and fear and finally stepped out into the garden. It wasn't truly a garden, merely a small empty space enclosed by walls on all sides. Now it was snow-covered and barren, but Cendan suspected that the house's owners used it to grow some vegetables and herbs.   
  
Menvan had stopped at the far side of the garden, the side opposite the door they had just used. Their men were still in the front part of the house, and if there was a spot where they could be relatively sure not to be overheard, it was here. Cendan walked over to the other man, his boots crushing the white blanket of snow. It took him only a few seconds to reach Menvan's side, and when he came to an abrupt stop, his face betrayed none of his emotions.   
  
While he was studying the crisp whiteness of their surroundings, he suddenly felt how the doubts that had clung persistently to his heart fell away, leaving only a steely determination and calmness. What was done was done, and there was no way for him to change anything now. In the moment he had recognised the ranger's face and had not alerted his men he had chosen almost certain death, and now it was a path he had to follow to the end. He nodded inwardly, enjoying the brief moment of crystal clarity. He might die, yes, but he would die with his honour intact, in an attempt to avenge his captain's death. That was all that mattered.   
  
"So," he began after a few seconds, not really wanting to ask his subordinate what he wanted, but unable to wait any longer. They did not have forever, and he had behaved far too conspicuously already this day. "I am loath to tell you this, Menvan, but I have seen snow before."   
  
"I do not doubt it, sir," Menvan nodded calmly, his harmless, slightly clueless expression firmly attached to his face. "But there is something I want to ask you, Lieutenant, if you'll allow me to speak freely."   
  
Cendan inclined his head, leaning back against the windowless wall behind him and already knowing what Menvan would say.  
"Go ahead."   
  
The somewhat daft expression disappeared from the brown haired man's face as quickly as if it had been blown away with the wind that was beginning to pick up now, and he raised his head, disbelief and fear in his eyes.   
  
"What in the name of the Gods are you doing, sir?" he asked sharply. "Are you insane? The others weren't with us on the mission and would probably not have noticed anything even if they had, but I am no fool! That ill cousin was the ranger, and we both know that the elf is in that house as well if his friend is! We could have captured both of them!"   
  
"Aye," Cendan nodded expressionlessly. "We could have. And what then?"   
  
Menvan frowned.   
"I do not understand, sir. We would have brought them back to the castle, of course."   
  
"And let Teonvan take credit for their capture? Turn them over to our lord to have them killed and allow him to wage his ill-fated war on Wilderland, a war in which we and all our men will die? A war which will destroy our home in the end, be it by the armies of the kings of the North or my kin? Or if we survive, so we can keep serving a man who has no honour and condones the actions of a murderer like Teonvan? Is that what you want?"   
  
"No, sir, of course not," Menvan shook his head. "You know me too well to think such a thing. Yet we are soldiers, and all soldiers can do is to follow orders. There is no other way."   
  
"Isn't there?" Cendan asked softly. "Come, Menvan, I know you are cleverer than this."   
  
The brown haired man swallowed hard. To suspect what his lieutenant would say and to actually hear him say it were two entirely different things.   
"An insurrection?" he whispered tonelessly. "But, sir, the last one…"   
  
"No," the dark haired lieutenant shook his head. "I do not want to lead a rebellion, or a revolt or something like that. I think the dear Master Laenro and his associates are far more willing to plan and execute something like that than I am. No, I do not want something like that, Menvan. I aim for something far simpler."   
  
"And what would that be, Lieutenant?" Menvan asked, his brown eyes narrowing.   
  
"To kill Teonvan," Cendan hissed darkly. "He killed our captain, and he will pay for that. If Girion gets killed in the process, so be it. He is without honour and not worthy of the loyalty and allegiance you and I have given him for so many years."   
  
"It is hardly a matter of loyalty," the other man shook his head. "I couldn't name more than a dozen soldiers I know who are actually loyal to him or his officers. It is all about fear, sir, you know that. The fear of Glamir and his dungeons keeps the men in line, and neither you nor I are eloquent or influential enough to change that."   
  
"You are right," his lieutenant nodded. "I know that, I have in fact been thinking about nothing else these past days. But all you need to do if you want to cripple this city is to cut off the head. The limbs will crumble into dust faster than you can watch."   
  
"For that you need fearless men," Menvan argued, inwardly not believing what they were doing. They were openly discussion possibilities of opposing and killing their lord – by the Gods, they must be insane! "And I think we both know what the Easterlings will do once they perceive a weakness. There won't be a stone left on the other after they're finished."   
  
"Let the Easterlings be my worry," Cendan shook his head, his dark blue eyes glinting in the dying sunlight. "They haven't come here for a common goal or to fight a common enemy like the Wainriders all these years ago. They're here because Girion has paid them well, and as soon as that money stops flowing, they'll be at each other's throats. There are too many feuds and old enmities for them to work together without an incentive such as gold. Trust me," he repeated, "and let them be my worry."   
  
Menvan blinked, deciding that to trust people had always been a weakness of his.   
"Even if that is so, sir, it still leaves us with the problem of finding fearless men. There are none in this city."   
  
"Aren't there?" Cendan asked thoughtfully. "I don't know about you, Menvan, but I can think of at least two."   
  
"You _are _insane!" Menvan whispered, apparently awed by his superior's lack of rationality. "The elf and the ranger? They would rather kill us than do anything we want."   
  
"They won't have any other choice," Cendan said coldly. "I believe that they and their newfound friends will be a bit more inclined to listen to me than you think."   
  
"If you say so," the other man muttered unconvinced. He took a deep breath and obviously tried to pull himself together. "What do you want me to do?"   
  
"What makes you think that I want you to do something?" Cendan arched a dark eyebrow, an unreadable glint in his eyes.   
  
"Because, sir," Menvan retorted and grinned slightly at the dark haired lieutenant, "you wouldn't have told me all this unless you wanted me to do something – and unless you already knew that I would agree to do it."   
  
"I could still kill you now," Cendan offered, and Menvan wasn't really able to figure out whether or not the man was serious.   
  
"Well – yes, sir, you could. Which would be awfully ostentatious, of course. Even Teonvan might start asking a few questions."   
  
"I seriously doubt that," Cendan shook his head derisively. "But you are right. I would very much prefer it if you'd agree to help me. But that doesn't mean that I would not be willing to resort to … more extreme measures should the necessity arise."   
  
"Undoubtedly," Menvan nodded wryly. "But you already knew I'd agree when you started talking about all this, didn't you?"   
  
"Of course," Cendan inclined his head as well. "I am no fool."   
  
"And that, Lieutenant," the brown haired man said slowly, "is the reason why I will indeed agree to do whatever you want me to. Teonvan deserves death, and if we let our lor… Girion march out, our city will be destroyed in the chaos that will follow." He paused for a moment, and then added calmly, "What is it you want me to do? To talk to the men? Most of them will obey you, you know that."   
  
"No, not yet. I want you to watch Teonvan," Cendan answered promptly. "I want to know about his every move. I want to know where he goes, what he says, which people he meets, what he eats, everything. You are the perfect man for that task; no one will notice you."   
  
Menvan nodded curtly.   
"I can do that. Neither he nor his two goons will notice me. What are you going to do, sir?"   
  
"Today?" the young lieutenant asked with a quirked eyebrow, "Nothing. I will continue to follow our orders and search our quadrant and will – most unfortunately, of course – find nothing. This will take most of the evening, I think. Meet me in my quarters tomorrow two hours before dawn. We have much to discuss."   
  
"So you really intend to go back to them," Menvan stated somewhat unbelievingly as his superior steered the both of them into the direction of the door leading back into the house.   
  
"Oh yes," Cendan said, appearing almost surprised that he had actually asked. "Oh yes, I do. It should be a most interesting meeting, don't you think?"   
  
Menvan inwardly shook his head as his lieutenant entered the house. He gave the peaceful garden a long look before he followed the other man, sensing that this was the last bit of peace either of them would have for a long time. Most likely, a voice inside his head noted dryly, they would both be dead in a few days.   
  
An interesting meeting, he thought incredulously. Whatever the lieutenant said.   


  
  
Girion leaned back into his chair, feeling a curious mixture of emotions war inside his chest. He wasn't quite sure if he should feel content, furious or downright amused. He cocked his head slightly to the side as he took in the sight in front of him, and decided spontaneously that the last was the case. This was … amusing.   
  
Yes indeed, he thought, this was amusing. But it was also a nuisance and highly irritating, which was the precise reason why he was not smiling. Then again, neither were his … "guests", which made the whole thing of course even more amusing. The only thing that bothered him was that he didn't know what they wanted here – even though he could guess it well enough. As he had told the blond elf before, he was no fool.   
  
He was torn out of his thoughts when the councilman who had brought the elves here bowed low before him, looking smug but also a little bit afraid. He apparently did not know how his lord would react to their visitors.   
"The guests that were announced earlier are here, my lord. They seek an audience with you."   
  
Girion nodded benignly and scrutinised the four tall figures that were standing behind the man. While all of them were stood tall and proud and were bright-eyed, they could not have looked more different. Two were identical, with dark hair and grey eyes that looked cold and dark right now. The third was even taller than the two who had to be twins, and was nearly the exact opposite of them. He was golden haired with deep blue eyes that looked as serene and calm as bottomless pools, and even Girion knew that he had to be very old, even for one of the elven kind. The last elf looked more like him than the other two, for his hair was fair, even though the colour was as deeply silver as the other's was golden. There was, however, a different air about him, a more troubled, darker air that set him apart from the other three.   
  
The golden haired elf cast a quick look around the room, eyeing it with the same distaste that the elf and the ranger had displayed when they had been brought here. That thought served to bring the dark haired man out of his observations. These four mustn't leave this city again. Even if they had nothing to do with his prisoners whom he had so inconveniently ... misplaced at the moment (something he seriously doubted, by the way), they could have found out about his allies – or would do so soon. No, he shook his head inwardly. He mustn't let them go.   
  
Glorfindel returned his eyes to the man sitting on the throne-like chair in front of them, having to summon all his experience and memories of the many council meetings he had attended to keep from shivering. He had known this had been a mistake, he had known it from the very beginning; why hadn't he stopped this folly while there had still been time? As Elrond would have said: This kind of attitude was exactly what had got him killed for the first time in the first place. Usually, Glorfindel wouldn't have agreed with his lord, but right now he was willing to admit that his half-elven friend might be on to something.   
  
The vision of the way Elrond would look at him when he heard about this entire story – and hear about it he would, Elrond _always _heard about _everything _– brought him back to the present, and he quickly gave the man a bow which was just deep enough to satisfy etiquette.   
  
"My lord," he began, trying to shake off a feeling of intense dislike that welled up inside him when he looked up at the man in front of him, "thank you for seeing us on such short notice. My name is Glorfindel, and I bring greetings from my Lord Elrond of Rivendell, far to the West of here on the other side of the Misty Mountains."   
  
The twins and Celylith were too experienced and skilled in diplomatic exchanges to even blink when they heard the words, and Glorfindel smiled inwardly. Well, he was sure that Elrond would have said something like that if he'd had the chance.   
  
Girion gave the elves a smile that did not look very genuine.   
"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. And your companions are…?"   
  
"Of course, forgive me," the golden haired elf inclined his head. "These," he motioned at the two brothers, "are my lord's sons, Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir. And this," he turned to the silver haired elf who looked at him strangely imploringly, "is Lord Celylith, son of Celythramir. We are looking for some friends of ours who disappeared two weeks ago close to Mirkwood."   
  
"Mirkwood?" Girion asked, apparently greatly surprised. "What makes you think that they are somewhere around here?"   
  
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, sensing the wave of mistrust and dislike that emanated from the three young elves behind him. Celylith seemed even tenser and more ill at ease than the twins, something that the golden haired elf couldn't really explain.   
"We found some … clues," he said evasively. "They might be somewhere around here, or even further East. Have you heard anything that might indicate that they are in your realm or have lately passed through here, my lord? Would you know who might have taken them captive?"   
  
The man narrowed his eyes as if deeply in thought, a frown creasing his brow.   
"No, I am sorry. I don't think I can help you. Two elves, that is something that would stand out here, and there are none in my realm who would dare do such a thing."   
  
"One of them is a man, a ranger," Elrohir interjected. "His name is Strider, a friend of our family, and the elf we seek is called Legolas."   
  
Girion felt how his mind froze and a mighty explosion of fury slammed through his entire body. He retained enough presence of mind to nod absent-mindedly and not to show too much of his feelings, even though he had the feeling that at least the fair haired elves were not fooled for a second.   
  
"No, I don't think so," the man said thoughtfully and stood to his feet when Teonvan appeared in the door leading to his study. "Please excuse me for a moment. This will take only a second."   
  
Without waiting for the elves to say or do anything he strode over to the door and pushed the man into the other room, closing the door behind them after a last look at the guards that were remaining with their "guests".   
  
Teonvan looked at him surprised, but inclined his head and quickly began to report.   
"The search is still going on, sir, but we haven't found them yet. The Lieutenants Cendan, Caellan and Lybran are still searching their sectors, but until now we've found nothing. It appears that they've been swallowed up by the earth."   
  
Girion barely heard what his captain was telling him, his thoughts going round and round in his head. After Adruran's death last autumn he had looked into how and when exactly that mission had gone wrong. His agents in Dale and Lake-town had found out quickly enough that there had been two main reasons for his late captain's failure: A man and an elf.   
  
They had apparently turned up out of nowhere and had ruined the whole operation with an unparalleled efficiency and speed, something that Girion found still somewhat hard to believe. The one thing that had really shocked him had been that the elf had been no other than the Elvenking's son, at least by some accounts.   
  
Girion ground his teeth. He had not wanted to jump to conclusions until now – after all, what were the chances of the same two beings getting in the way of his plans twice? – but now it appeared that that had been a mistake. He had never heard of this Strider before, but his late father had always attached great importance to history lessons. King Thranduil had only one son, and his name was – and this was the interesting part – Legolas.   
  
"What was the elf's name?" he interrupted Teonvan in mid-sentence. "What?!"   
  
The brown haired captain blinked and lowered his eyes, not daring to meet his lord's eyes.   
"He said his name was Lasseg, sir."   
  
Girion felt how his hands began to twitch. Lasseg. Little Leaf. No elvish parent would give his son such a name. He closed his eyes for a moment. Legolas. Green Leaf. Little Leaf. O the Gods, what kind of fool had he been? He slowly opened his eyes again, glaring darkly at the captain.   
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded to know.   
  
"Well, sir, I did not think it…"   
  
"You think too much, Teonvan!" Girion hissed at the other, his hands shooting out and grasping the front of the captain's tunic. "Or too little! Do you know who that elf is? Do you??" He did not wait for the other to answer but continued, rage shining brightly in his eyes. "He is the Elvenking's son! You had the Elvenking's son for the entire trip and you did – not – tell – me?!"   
  
"I did not know who he was," Teonvan shook his head, unable to take his eyes off his lord's furious face. "Captain Reran…"   
  
"Do not try to shift the blame on the dead now!" Girion thundered. "It is you who made the mistake, not Reran!" He let go of the brown haired man's clothes, narrowing his eyes when he looked into his terrified, yellowish face. "You will return to your duties. I expect you to find the two of them."   
  
Teonvan suppressed a cough and resisted the urge to rub his throat.   
"Of course, sir. We will find them."   
  
Girion merely gave him a cold stare and walked back to the door, but stopped and turned back around, fixing his cold, angry eyes on the captain.   
"I hope so for your sake, Teonvan, because otherwise I might come to regret having promoted you after all." He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "I do not care what you have to do. I do not care whom you have to threaten, whom you have to bribe and whom you have to kill. I do not care how many men you need or how long it will take. I want them found – alive! Do whatever you have to, but – bring – me – that – elf!"   
  
The brown haired man nodded quickly and bowed his head, watching his lord turn back to the door leading to the audience chambers where he had left his four visitors who had remained standing in the dark, ominous room. By now all of them had – independently and simultaneously, one might add – come to the conclusion that this had been a very, very bad idea and that their respective fathers (or in Glorfindel's case, his lord) would kill them, a feeling they covered up with friendly smiles and calm countenances.   
  
While he was still smiling brightly at the councilman who was standing a little to the right of them, Celylith leaned closer to Glorfindel, his eyes wandering over the room and giving him the appearance of a person who was studying the architecture.   
  
_"I roch nes sant, hîr nín,"_ he began conversationally, _"Renin cha." _He looked in Glorfindel's not very surprised face, sensing the twins stiffen next to him, and added with an admiring look at the dreadful chandelier behind the large chair in front of them, _"Ha i roch i Estel mamp."_   
  
No emotion could be seen on the golden haired elf's face, even thought he was thinking frantically. He narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at the atrocity that was apparently meant to be a large chandelier and asked with a friendly smile and without looking at the silver haired elf,   
_"Tanc istach hen?"_   
  
Celylith nodded only once, as if agreeing with a statement the elf lord had just made about the room's décor.   
_"Carin."_   
  
"How unfortunate," sounded the calm, controlled voice of Girion who was leaning casually against the doorframe to their left. "The horse. Another loose end no one ever cared to eliminate." He shook his head slightly, as if greatly saddened by the unfairness and hostility of the world. "It is so hard to find decent help these days, wouldn't you agree?"   
  
Glorfindel returned the man's mocking stare emotionlessly, only his eyes betraying the fury that was beginning to build inside of him – fury at these people, fury at this man, but, most importantly, fury at himself because he had allowed himself and his charges (for he indeed saw them thus) to get into such a situation. He had underestimated this man and his men, and he had underestimated them greatly.   
"Where are they?"   
  
"Around," Girion waved his hand vaguely. "I must say that I was rather surprised how much trouble the two of them are – especially _Prince _Legolas." He smiled slightly at the elves' surprised faces, noticing how the dark haired elf's face who had told him that name coloured in shame. "Oh yes, I now know who he is. He, on the other hand, must have … forgotten to inform me about his ancestry. That is something we will have to discuss in the near future."   
  
The other dark haired elf balled his hands to fists and took a threatening step forward despite the guards that were beginning to close in on the fair beings, before his brother and the silver haired elf reached out and restrained him.   
"Let me rephrase Lord Glorfindel's question, human," Elladan hissed at the man who had still not moved from his place at the door. "Where in the name of the Valar are our friends and what have you done to them?"   
  
"Do you realise that, with your actions, you bring King Thranduil's and our father's wrath onto you and your house?" Elrohir asked incredulously, tightening his grip on his brother's arm. Elladan's entire body was as taut as a drawn bow, and any minute now his older twin would lose his temper and do something incredibly stupid.

He narrowed his eyes at the dark haired human, deciding that, considering the circumstances, his promise to Glorfindel not to give any of these men the _look _was null and void.   
"Why are you doing this? Who are you, and what do you want with Lord Thranduil's son and Strider?"   
  
"Is this an attempt to extort ransom?" Celylith asked quietly, midnight blue eyes the colour of dark, smouldering coals as he looked at the one who had ordered Galalith's death and his prince's capture. "If that is so, you can be assured that you will gain nothing but certain death from this. My king will never bow to any demand you might make, not even to save his son."   
  
"Ransom?" Girion asked, apparently torn between amusement and indignation. "What would I want with gold?   
  
"You are a man," Celylith merely retorted, scorn and contempt in his eyes.   
  
"Indeed," Girion smiled, apparently not very bothered by his answer. "And as such I recognise an opportunity when I see one. 'Your king' will not bow to any demands I might make, you say? Another Mirkwood elf, then. How … intriguing."   
  
Celylith opened his mouth to say something, his eyes having darkened so far that it was nearly impossible to distinguish between the dark blue irises and the pupils, but Glorfindel shot him a look that would have made Elrond very proud and the younger elf remained silent. Glorfindel didn't know what was going on here and he didn't know what this man wanted, but he did know that it would be a bad idea to allow the young ones to insult the human.   
  
"I would advise you to bring our friends here," he said slowly and clearly, hoping that this obviously demented man would understand him if he only spoke calmly enough. "Bring the prince and the ranger here, _now_, and you just might escape the fate of having to lay eyes onto an army sometime in the coming fortnight. An army which will be led by a very displeased King of Mirkwood."   
  
The man only looked at them with a bright sparkle in his eyes before he threw back his head and laughed, apparently greatly shocking his guards who had drawn a very close circle around the four elves by now. Glorfindel wasn't exactly shocked, for the human's reaction only proved to him what he had already known: This Lord Girion was mad. No person, elf, human, dwarf or otherwise, would laugh when confronted with the possibility of having to face King Thranduil when the elven king was in a bad mood. Inwardly, the golden haired elf lord winced. King Thranduil wouldn't be in a bad mood, he would be in a downright terrible mood – nay, he quickly corrected himself. The word that would be capable of describing the mood the Elvenking would be in wasn't even invented yet, and he would hate to be there when that changed.   
  
Girion finally seemed to pull himself together and stopped laughing, much to the guards' relief. It was unheard of to witness their lord laughing, and if past experience was any indication at all, this sudden bout of mirth couldn't be a good sign.   
"Forgive me, Master Elf," the dark haired lord finally said, "This is simply very amusing. Trust me: In a fortnight the dear king will have entirely different problems."   
  
"For example that army that was camping on your doorstep?" Elladan asked scornfully. "You are a fool if you think that the Easterlings will obey you. They will turn against you, sooner or later. 'Tis simply a matter of time."   
  
"My, you _have _been busy," Girion shook his head and raised a hand, causing the soldiers to step even closer to the elves and draw their weapons. In a matter of moments eight crossbows, four swords and a rather interesting-looking spear were pointed at them. "If you would be so kind to hand over your weapons?"   
  
The twins and the two fair haired elves traded quick looks, and Glorfindel almost imperceptibly shook his head. Now he knew why they had been allowed to keep their weapons – because they wouldn't do them any good. There were thirteen guards in this room and only four of them. Usually, that would have been rather good odds, and had it only been him, Glorfindel would have drawn his sword a long time ago. But apart from this obviously mad lord and his guards there were dozens of soldiers in the castle, and even more currently searching the city. There was absolutely no way for them to fight their way out of this situation, and he would not return to the Lords Elrond and Celythramir bearing the news that their sons had died because he hadn't been able to keep his temper in check.   
  
With another silent curse that would probably even had made Girion blush to the roots of his hair Glorfindel shook his head a second time and unbuckled his sword belt. It went against all his instincts to do what this man wanted, but there was really no other way. Fighting would avail them nothing, and he absolutely refused to die through anything less than through the hands of a balrog or one of the Nine. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.   
  
He nodded at his companions who looked at him unbelievingly but obeyed some moments later. They were intelligent enough to realise that they were trapped as flies in a spider's web, no matter how loath they were to admit it. It took the three young elves considerably longer to comply with the man's request, and for a moment Glorfindel though Elladan wouldn't be able to do so at all. The older twin's hands were shaking with rage, so badly that it took him very long to loosen the belt that hung around his waist.   
  
"It is so nice to see that we are able to deal with each other like gentlemen," Girion said friendly while his men relieved his "guests" of their weapons. "You are much more reasonable than your friends, believe me."   
  
Celylith took a step forward, sensing that Elladan was close to lunging at the man again (as was he, for that matter), but this time it was Elrohir who had to be restrained by his brother. The younger twin's usually so calm grey eyes were filled with a choking mixture of self-loathing, guilt and overwhelming fury and contempt as he raised his chin and stared at the dark haired man.   
  
"You are a fool," he told Girion in a dark, incensed tone of voice. "You lead all your people into certain doom and yet you laugh about it? What have you done to our friends? What is the meaning of all this? Who are you, and why are you doing this? Neither we nor our people will forget what has occurred here, that I promise you, and if either of the two is hurt in any way, I will kill you, and if that is the last thing I'll ever do."   
  
Girion's eyes darkened slightly and he straightened up, beginning to walk over to the four elves.   
"Careful, elf, I would be careful if I were you. You are in no position to threaten anyone, least of all me."   
  
"What do you want from us?" Glorfindel interrupted the man, intent on drawing his attention away from Elrohir and his equally foolish brother who was apparently just thinking about killing all humans currently present in the room slowly and painfully. "What do you want from Strider and the prince? What do you want with an army of seven thousand Easterlings or more?"   
  
Girion narrowed his eyes at the golden haired elf.   
"I have neither the inclination nor the desire to answer your questions, _Lord _Glorfindel," he said teasingly, motioning the men to step closer to the elves and take a hold of them.   
  
The silver haired elf whom they tried to grab first evaded the soldiers' hands with a movement almost too fast to follow, his right hand automatically going to the now empty space at his waist that his sword had occupied a few minutes ago. Girion sighed and shook his head slightly, the calm mask once again laying itself over his face. 

"I would suggest a little bit more co-operation," he told them friendly. "You wouldn't want your friends to suffer for any foolishness of yours, would you?"   
  
The two dark haired elves and their silver haired companion stiffened visibly at his words, but the blond elf merely narrowed his eyes and cocked his head slightly to the side.   
"You do not have them," he stated dispassionately. "They escaped, didn't they? They are the 'criminals' your men are searching for. That is why you need us. You let them slip away right under your very nose before you got from them whatever it is you want."   
  
Girion averted his eyes under four dark elven glares but shook his head minutely, ignoring the guards' wide eyes, who were apparently impressed by the golden haired elf's deductive skills. Foolish cretins, the man thought furiously.   
  
"Maybe," he nodded, his temper rising quickly. "Maybe you are right, but are you willing to bet your friends' lives on it? Perhaps only one of them escaped and I still have the other? Or perhaps I was just informed that we recaptured them? Or perhaps you are completely wrong? Are you willing to risk that? I don't think you are. You are just as foolish and sentimental as the ranger if you ask me."   
  
Elladan glared darkly at the man and was just thinking about informing him about the fact that no one had in fact asked him, but stopped himself just in time. This man might be insane, yes, but he wasn't stupid. None of them was willing to risk Aragorn's or Legolas' life like that, and that human knew that perfectly well.   
  
A moment later the men grabbed their arms, and this time none of them resisted. Girion grinned as he sat down on his large, carved chair and studied the enraged faces of his four new prisoners.   
"I take it none of you is inclined to tell me if you have any companions, what your lords' plans are and a few other, similar questions?"   
  
Dark, contemptuous silence was his only answer, and the man shook his head again, appearing not very disappointed.   
"I had expected nothing less," he told them. "Though I have to admit that this is becoming slightly boring. Your friends made just the same decision." His grin widened. "They changed their minds before long though, and so will you."   
  
He turned slightly and nodded at the guards' lieutenant, ignoring the elves' murderous stares.   
"Take them to the dungeons. Glamir will be more than happy to attend to them, I think. Tell him that I expect answers this time."   
  
The man nodded and was about to give his men the sign to take the prisoners away when the golden haired elf cocked his head slightly to the side, studying Girion as if the man had just openly declared that he was planning to walk up to the front door of Barad-dûr and challenge the Dark Lord to a fair duel.   
  
"You will not succeed," he told him softly. "You are a fool to think that you could conquer Mirkwood or Rhovanion with an army of Easterlings. They are loyal to no one but themselves, and the only thing that can unite them is their hatred for the southern kingdom." He paused, serious eyes fixed on the dark haired man's frozen face. "Wilderland is not Gondor. They will turn on you, rather sooner than later. I have seen many people like you, and I have watched them fall. You will die as they have. Be it in this city by our hands or on a plain to the north by the hands of one of our kin, you will not see the next summer."   
  
Girion's face darkened and it was very clear that he was a mere step away from losing his temper as he leaned forward, searching the elf's face for any signs of fear, and, to his chagrin, finding none. The golden haired elf was simply looking at him as if he was an insolent, misguided child – which he probably was in his eyes, but that was nothing the man was willing to admit.   
  
The dark haired man gritted his teeth in fury and nodded at one of the guards that were grabbing the elf's arms, who backhanded the prisoner sharply across the face. The golden haired elf almost immediately raised his head again, the ugly red imprint of four fingers plainly visible on his cheek.   
  
"You Elves are all alike, aren't you?" Girion asked softly. "Proud, arrogant and oh-so-sure of yourselves. You always think you know the answers to everything, and yet if someone needs your help, you are nowhere to be seen." He narrowed his eyes at the impassionate face of the blond elf in front of him who looked about as interested in his words as if he had been telling him about the mating rituals of millipedes. "Let me give you a piece of advice," he added friendly. "I would be careful with my words if I were you. It seems to me that I need your three companions, but not you. The silver haired one is one of the Elvenking's subjects, and who knows, he might just be a good substitute for the dear prince if he continues to be so stubborn. And your lord's sons might come in handy too, but you – I don't need you, do I?"   
  
The elf did not answer, but both of the twins raised their heads, their eyes so hard and dark in their faces that the man was taken aback for a moment.   
"If you harm my father's seneschal – or any of us, for that matter," one of them said in a quiet, controlled voice, "you will have a war on your hands that will stop only when you and all your men are dead and your city has been burnt to the ground. He and King Thranduil fought in the great war against the Dark Lord. To take your city will be child's play for them."   
  
If anything, Girion looked amused as he gave the soldiers a sign to take the prisoners out of the room.   
"There is only one problem, elf," he all but chuckled. "I won't be here should they really get here, and neither will my men. And a war is what I want anyway. Two more players should make everything a lot more interesting, wouldn't you agree?" He turned to the guards. "Take them away."   
  
The two dark haired elves and the blond one were turned around and dragged out of the room, and before the silver haired elf's guards could follow their companions, Celylith fixed an angry, contemptuous stare on the dark-clad man as he voiced the conviction that had been growing in his mind for the past few minutes.   
"You are insane."   
  
One of the guards thrust his elbow into the elf's ribs, causing him to double over as the other man dragged him out of the dark, dimly lit room. He looked after the men and the four elves as they exited the hall and smiled thinly, a smile that the two soldiers who had remained on their posts next to the door had seen quite a lot of times. It had never been a good sign.   
  
"Maybe," he said softly to himself as he leaned back in his chair. "And maybe not. We'll see soon enough."   
  
The door closed behind the soldiers and their prisoners, and a dark gloom once again settled over the room, shrouding the men's faces in darkness. 

  
  
  
Legolas was dreaming, and he knew that perfectly well, too. It was quite a nice dream though, and so he really had no complaints.   
  
For one, he wasn't in pain, which was a rather nice change for once. He also wasn't uncomfortable in any way, nor was he wet or bound, which was quite astonishing, because he knew that that wasn't going to last for much longer once he stopped dreaming. He didn't know where he was – besides, it couldn't really be important since this was, after all, only a dream – but he somehow knew he was safe and warm, and more importantly, Aragorn was too.   
  
He didn't question his friend being here since it seemed perfectly normal to him, even though he knew that he hadn't seen Aragorn look so healthy in a long time. He couldn't remember what exactly should be different, but he knew that there should be _something_ different, that he should be hurt in some way, and yet he wasn't.   
  
The young man appeared perfectly fine and normal, and with the sudden, abrupt change that seemed reasonable and normal his father suddenly appeared next to Aragorn, closely followed by Celylith, the twins and even Lord Elrond. The Lord of Imladris didn't even strangle him as he had expected him to, and neither did his father, which proved to him that this was indeed a dream. There was no way he would get off the hook so easily.   
  
Before he could make his way over to the others, faceless figures appeared out of nowhere, drawing a circle around his friends and father. They were either too surprised to move or could not at all, and soon they were surrounded by the shadows. Legolas tried to come to their aid, but found that he couldn't move an inch; he was frozen to the spot. A mocking, cold voice suddenly could be heard, speaking words he knew he had heard many times already, and a second later Teonvan appeared out of the mist that had begun to envelop him and the others. Glamir was not far behind the man, and neither were Caellan and Lybran, Teonvan's brutal lieutenants.   
  
The four of them began to move towards the encircled elves and the man who seemed not to be able to move away, just like Legolas. The elven prince tried with all his might to break free of the invisible bonds that held him back, but could not free himself, no matter what he did. He needed to get to Aragorn, his father and the other, he needed to help them, but how was he supposed to fight what he could not see? He couldn't even move a single inch, he could do nothing!   
  
Teonvan reached the motionless group and reached out with his hands to touch his human friend, a malicious grin full of anticipation on his face, and Legolas renewed his struggles to break free. He couldn't let this man lay hands on his friend again, he couldn't, he had to help him, he had to…   
  
Suddenly he felt how the invisible hands that held him back tightened their hold on him, and with sudden confusion he realised that they were beginning to shake him. He was still too focused on the scene in front of him to pay that much attention, but soon it became too insistent for him to ignore. The mist that surrounded him grew and began to obscure everything in sight, and with a cry of dismay Legolas realised that he could no longer see Aragorn, his father or any of the others. What was Teonvan doing to them, he couldn't see them, he needed to get closer to them!   
  
Suddenly Legolas realised that the hands that were grabbing his shoulders and shaking him were only too real, and that the murmuring that had been growing in the past few minutes were in fact voices, voices that were speaking to him in an increasingly impatient tone of voice. With a half-stifled cry he bolted upright, his flailing hands reaching for his belt in search of a weapon.   
  
His wrists were caught in a strong grip and he frantically blinked to clear his vision of the last, shadowy remnants of his dream, still fighting against the hands that held him down. A few seconds later he remembered where he was and who was leaning over him, and he relaxed his tense muscles, allowing his body to fall back onto the bed's soft mattress.

"Elbereth," he mouthed shakily and then nodded at the man standing over him. "I am awake."   
  
"Good," Laenro nodded as well and released the elf's wrists. "You nearly knocked me to the ground once or twice."   
  
"I am sorry," Legolas apologised, slowly sitting up and massaging his wrists that had begun bleeding again. The raw wounds several kinds of bindings had left on the tender skin of his wrists had not yet begun to truly heal and had broken up again. "I did not mean to…"   
  
"No apology necessary," the man shook his head. "Everybody who has spent some time in Girion dungeons is entitled to a few nightmares in my opinion."   
  
Legolas smiled forcedly and was about to say something when he realised that it was dark in the room, very dark. Why would the man wake him if it was still far from dawn?   
"Estel!" he gasped, sitting up fully with a start and looking wildly to the bed next to him. "The ranger, is he…"   
  
"Your friend is fine. He is still asleep," Laenro assured the elf quickly, his eyes darting to the room's door. Legolas followed his eyes and saw that Ethoani was standing there, the hood of her cloak thrown back and exposing her white face. Laenro looked at his sister, looking decidedly displeased with her being in this house. "Something has come up."   
  
"What?" Legolas asked hesitantly, sagging a little in relief when he absorbed the fact that Aragorn was fine. After that dream he had really thought for a moment that something terrible had happened to him, that he had died while he had been sleeping. "What has happened?"   
  
"I have news from the castle," the brown haired girl said quietly and took a step into the room. "Bad news."   
  
She stopped next to Legolas' bed and held out her hand, a longish object resting on her palm. For a moment, the elf merely looked at it without comprehending what the young woman wanted to tell him, but then he realised that the object was in fact a dagger, complete with its unadorned sheath. Legolas took a deep breath and slowly reached out for the weapon the girl was offering him, knowing whom it belonged to without needing to draw it out of its sheath. Of course he knew it, he thought as he grasped the knife, he had been there when its owner had received it from his sister after all…   
  
His fingers tightened around the weapon, and Legolas slowly closed his eyes.   
  
"Celylith, you reckless fool," he whispered softly. "What have you got yourself into this time?"  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_I roch nes sant, hîr nín.__ Renin cha - The horse in (the) courtyard, my lord. I remember it.  
Ha i roch i Estel mamp - It (is) the horse that Estel took.  
Tanc istach hen? - You know this for sure?  
Carin - I do  
  
  
  
  
_**Well****, if this was a cliffy it was a very minor one. *g* Don't blame me for the 'mamp' in the dialogue, btw, it's authentic, no matter how funny it sounds. *g* Anyway, the next chapter will be here in a week as always, with lots more of the twins and even a little argument between Ethoani, Laenro and Legolas. *shakes head* That elf really _is_ stubborn, hm? Reviews might help me to tear myself out of the Pre-exam-panic that is currently threatening to take hold of me. *g* Meaning: Review, please?  
  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
Sirithiliel** - I love the twins too. I think _because_ they can be so very stupid! *g* Great you liked it so far, thanks for all your reviews! *huggles*  
**Carrie** - *g* Well, Cendan just might do that. Not exactly out of these reasons, but it's a good guess! *wide eyes* You want Celylith to take you home and ... tame you? *backs away slowly* Whatever you say ... just don't let Zam hear you. She's rather protective... *g* And you're right of course, Celylith might just pay a little but more attention to his surroundings. Glorfindel too. AND the twins. In fact, they're all kinda stupid, aren't they? Even though they won't act quite as stupid. LOL, 'Oh, well can we have him back? No? Oh well, we'll just be on our way then. No? You want to throw us in the dungeons now? Well, certainly! That'll be fun, down this dark tunnel is it?'! That certainly cracked me up! *grins widely* And 'warrior' doesn't equal intelligence, does it? And don't worry, your ramblings aren't insane. At least not very. *g* Thanks a lot for the great review!  
**Linuvial**** Greenleaf** - LOL! Your brother really did that? Well, that's perfectly evil! The poor cat!! *notices her dark looks* Oh, and poor YOU, of course! I hope it's only one bruise - I would hate to hear that I more or less caused you to get seriously hurt! And your brother really needs a hobby! He had been standing there for ten minutes? Really? *shakes head* Men. Great you liked it so far and thanks a lot for sharing that story! It _was_ really funny!**  
Aratfeniel** - Yes, I guess Celylith is a little bit strange. But who could resist the charm of a wild ox or an evil spider?! Well, me for example, but that's another story... *g* I hope you have lots of fun on your vacation!  
**Alariel** - *g* Don't worry, I figured that you meant the Easterling and not the Southrons. I'm not sure about the fire-breathing dragon yet though. *g* It might or might not appear... Thank you very much for all your compliments! *blushes* I hope you'll like the rest of this slightly insane story as well!  
**Firniswin** - Great that was enough Aragorn to make you happy. I fear he won't really wake up till chapter 26. *sheepish smile* And the cliffy wasn't even so bad - was it? And your brother really has an interest in ruptured spleens? That is quite weird - I tease Jack all the time about it! I mean, ruptured spleens? Hello? Hmm, you want a prize? I don't know - I will have to think about it. *g* I don't really know how long this is going to be, I think about 32 chapters. I hope. *g***  
Iverson** - Uhm, yes they are. Stupid I mean. *g* And I told everyone from the very beginning that "rescue party" is a very, very vague term. I never said they would actually manage to rescue them, did I? LOL, you want Celylith to keep the ox and ride to Legolas' rescue? *pictures it* Well, that sounds ... interesting. Not to mention insane, of course. *g* About the OCs: Believe it or not, I don't actually plan them all that much. I just have the names and their rough function when I put them into the story, and then they simply ... grow. I don't really know how, they have a life on their own. *g* A CNA and a paramedic, huh? Wonderful, then I can ask you for medical advice! *g* I hope life won't get _too_ busy for you! Thanks a lot for taking the time to review nonetheless!  
**Gwyn** - You do? Really? Dislike me? I really don't know why... *evil grin* Well, maybe I do. *g* I agree with you though, Legolas would do something really, really suicidal. Figures, doesn't it? *g*  
**Deana** - Your heart was hammering, huh? Well, that's good - I think. Great you liked it so far, and here's chapter 24. Yay! *g* Thanks for the review!  
**LOTRFaith** - I understand you completely. When I read stories "TBC" become my greatest enemies as well. *g* Oh, don't worry, Legolas will lie down and rest soon. He's not very happy about it, either. *evil grin* I hope the waiting wasn't too terrible (and I do hope that "shuddering" was only a figure of speech)?! *g*   
**Red Tigress** - My story does that? Teach a hatred of the military? Well, it's entirely unintentional, but I don't like the military overly much, that's true. *smiles sheepishly* And I tend to agree: That wasn't one of the smartest things Glorfindel's ever done. *g* LOL, 'When Animals Attack Silly Elves'? That would be something Celylith would like, wouldn't it?  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Uhm - wow! That was ... great! I mean - really! It was almost right! The German translation of elf is "Elfe", that's right, but as far as I know (I've never read the German books) they tranlated it as "Elb" (male) and "Elbin" (female) to set it apart from the elves in the fairy tales. I think you mean "gefangen", not "verfangen" - the latter means tangled, at least more or less. And 'zunaechst' means more 'first', I think you mean 'als naechstes'. But other than that - and considering that you've only just started learning German - it's very good! *pats her back* Please don't take this as a flame or something, I just want to help. Really. It was very good. *g* Oh, don't worry, there won't be a reunion. The twins would have a heartattack! Once again, the German was great! Congrats! *huggles*  
**Snow-Glory** - Uhm, yes, I guess they are. And yes, they just might be the ones to tell Girion who Legolas really is, but not quite like "Hey, we're looking for Prince Legolas, have you seen him?" But yes, it's their fault. *evil grin* No, Legolas isn't doing something just as stupid as that. Besides, Cendan would just have said something like "Thank you!" and would have taken both of them back to the castle. *g* That would have made Girion quite happy! *g*  
**Shirley** - No, he hasn't seen Rashwe. He was _sitting_ on Rahwe at the moment. It was Ráca, Aragorn's horse he got from Erelas. And you're right, it would be really bad if they captured Aragorn, because Girion really doesn't need him. Poor ranger. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Starlight** - Na klar, Klausuren sind definitiv nichts Schoenes. Dir sei verziehen. *g* Das waren fast drei Cliffies? Echt? Ich seh' nur einen, moeglicherweise jedoch auch zwei. Aber drei? *kratz sich am Kopf* Wenn du meinst. LOL, ich muss die zustimmen: Celylith hat den letzten Rest seines Elbenverstandes verloren. *g* Armer Junge. Nicht nur verrueckt nach komischen Viechern, auch noch dumm ist er. *g* Ich wuensche dir ganz viel Spass im Urlaub! Ich hoffe, du faehrst irgendwo hin, wo's warm ist! *g*  
**Strider's Girl** - Oh, it's GCSE time already? Good luck! I'm sure you'll do great! I am sorry for not putting in more Aragorn, but he really needs some sleep. He doesn't get nearly enough - then again, neither does Legolas. Excuse me for a moment... *hides large hammer behind her back and stalks off to find enhausted elven prince* I'm sorry for not updating every day - I would love to! But for that the day would need to have about 48 hours... *g*  
**Crippled Raven** - Well, I guess I would like Chemistry better if we'd have had a decent teacher. We didn't though, and so I still don't know what the little numbers mean. I'm serious, I really don't know. *g* Your teacher sounds like fun though! To be perfectly honest, I don't know myself if elves are so stupid, but we would have no stories to write if they weren't. *evil grin* And your brother wanted what? Are you serious? More importantly, is he insane? I HATE spiders! I really, really hate them! And I like your Maths teacher! He's right, btw! Money IS everything. If you're healthy, that is. I would love to have LOADS of money... *starts dreaming* Ah, you mean ... *searches on keyboard* _this_ (ß) little letter? I like it, but I don't usually use it 'online' (meaning in emails or html documents) because you never know what it might get turned into. Most of the time, something like ^-%³. *g* Well, Cendan just might do something like that, and even though I think that he would love going on a killing spree, I think Cendan will be a little more ... subtle. *g* And yes, he's adorable, isn't he? *huggles Cendan*   
**Chibi**** Noin** - LOL, yes I think Celylith is quite unusual. I don't like spiders overly much myself. I don't think that these animals are as dangerous as one of the Nine, but ... *looks at snorting ox* Well, on second thought, it might. *g* And you don't like Baredlen? Really? I have no idea why... *innocent smile* At least someone likes my homour - my sister calls me weird all the time. *g* Thanks for all your reviews!  
**Koriaena** - Well, I guess the answer to that question is: Yes, he is. I don't know what goes through his head either, and I think I'm quite happy about that. *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Marbienl** - That is the whole point. You are supposed not to be sure about Laenro's motives, mainly because he really doesn't like our heroes - only too understandable if you ask me... *g* I'm not so sure about Celylith's abilities to tame a dangerous animal one day. There are reasons why other people hate and fear them after all... But I agree with you of course. It's perfectly evil and mean to imprison such an adorable, sweet little ox. Don't worry, the men are going to regret their actions soon enough... *evil grin* Legolas couldn't carry Estel to the attic because a. he didn't have the strength (I know, not a real reason but I wanted to mention it somehow) and b. Thesieni said he was not to be moved. He was too ill, and moving him would have been too dangerous. Hmm - I like your scenario, but it's not gonna happen, sorry. *g* And it might be some more chapters until he wakes up again. Make that ... chapter 26? Sorry! *sheepish smile*  
**Elvendancer** - Thanks! I'm glad you liked the cliffy - I liked it quite a bit myself. And yes, it does make me very happy that you liked it. *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**MIKI!!!** - MIKI!!! *huggles* O my God, is that really you? Really really? I thought you ... well, I don't really know what I thought. Where've you been? Is everything alright at home? If I remember correctly, there were a few ... family issues. I really hope it hasn't been too bad? I know exactly how horrible something like that can be... I am so glad you're back! I missed you reviews, I really did! I am sorry for the twins and Nólad though, it sounds as if they were having a good time - well, you know what they say: All good things must come to an end... *evil grin* At least they still have Menfil, that's something, right!? I have only one question: Since when are you a cat?? Don't get me wrong, I love cats, we have five of them, but ... well, I was just wondering. But if you are a cat and were in fact in that bag all that time, it explains quite a lot, I think. I really have to have a little talk with the twins. *very evil grin* LOL, so this story has been thrown into "complete and utter chaos"? Well, I'll just try to take that as a compliment... *g* Thank you so much for your review! I really missed you! *huggles her never to let go*  
***Falling Star*** - Hey, you're not bothering me. Don't worry. *g* Really! And I know what you mean with waiting for your favourite TV-show. A few years ago I was really addicted to Stargate SG-1 and was waiting for every single episode! And what on Earth makes you think I would want to kick you out of my 'readers 'club'? I like your reviews! I really do! *huggles her and the reviews*  
**Elenillor** - The Wizard of Oz, hm? I could never really connect to that story, somehow. But I know what you mean, dress rehearsals _are_ horrible. I hope it hasn't been too bad, and don't forget to sleep! Everybody needs sleep, even the elves. Some, that is. *g* It's great to hear that you're enjoying this, thanks for the review!  
**Shauna** - A heart attack _and_ a stroke? Well, that's ... interesting... *g* You didn't _really_ pull out half your hair, did you? And screaming and yelling and all that - are you serious? I mean, come on, the cliffy wasn't THAT bad, was it? And I most assuredly didn't _turn**_ **you into a crazy person, you already were crazy. I am sorry for not posting sooner, but I am really busy and would like to _stay_ two chapters ahead if possible. Your feelings aren't too bad btw - Cendan just might do what you think! *g*   
**Tychen** - I absolutely agree. Insanity makes life a lot more interesting! And the speen is indeed personal. For some reason, I don't really know why, Jack has this obsession with ruptured spleens. She really is quite strange. *g* And you just might be right, it might be residual brain damage. We'll never know for sure, I think... *g* You are right about Cendan btw. He really isn't interested in much except for revenge. And can you blame him? *evil grin*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Oh, I did mention it? Really? That detail must have slipped my mind... Uhm, Glorfindel just might be a little too busy to think about Celylith's pets for some time to come. *g* And for some reason, I can really imagine Celylith doing that. He might try to catch a war-oliphaunt thought. I guess they're very adorable as well... *g* And no, Legolas can't do that. It would be quite suicidal, not to mention stupid of course... Then again, that should be a reason for him to do it, shouldn't it - they're all stupid, aren't they? *shakes head sadly*  
**Karone**** Evertree** - Uhm, nope, he will never learn, He just likes these kinds of animals. They are stepping into a cage? Do you mean trap? I mean, a cage would be quite weird... *g* And they had to come because all the people asked me to. I didn't plan to put them into this story in the beginning, but changed my mind eventually. I think it's a curse, too. Maybe they did something to Gandalf once... *g*  
**Alasse**** Tiwele** - Actually it was quite a good place to stop. You just didn't like it. *g* The worst-cliffy-ever-award? Thank you! That's very flattering! And I absolutely agree, I would love it if I would be allowed to finish my story first. Not gonna happen, I know, but it's a nice idea. *wistful smile* And I don't think that this story has a cliffy, so give me a cookie! I want a cookie! A chocolate cookie, to be precise! Please!  
**Galadhriel**** Vornionien** - LOL, Argh? Well, that's quite ... unambiguous. It's quite gratifying to hear that I have made you lose your reserve. *g* I know, I'm evil. I hope the waiting wasn't too horrible! *g*  
**Stacee**** Phelps** - Well, yes I can. *evil grin* I really couldn't find the time to post sooner, sorry. College is horrible at the moment. The pics should be there already, I really hope you got them. *g* Great you still like the story so much!   
**Firnsarnien** - Utterly idiotic? Uhm, yes, I think that would be quite an accurate desription... *g* I didn't really twist your gut, did I? I mean, it seems that I am already responsible for several heart attacks, I wouldn't want to be responsible for a twisted gut as well! I see that you prefer sharp objects - you really have to be careful where you point them! Somebody might get hurt... *g*   
**Narina**** Nightfall** - *nods carefully* If you say so. Hollowed-out bones are quite nice - or so I've heard... You have Triskaidekaphobia? I've always thought that 13 is a nice number - well, but I AM afraid of spiders, so I guess I shouldn't be talking... Hmm, let me see, Eöl the Dark Elf. Okay, from what I remember right now and to make it short, he was a Sinda, kin of Elu Thingol himself. He was a great metal-smith and dwarf-friend (I know! Another one!), but not a very nice person since, sometime in the First Age, he married Aredhel, the granddaughter of Fëanor and sister of Fingon and Turgon, the King of Gondolin, not really voluntarily on her part. They had a son, Maeglin (who later betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth, but that's another story), but when he was away some years later, they left him and fled to Gondolin to Aredhel's brother. Eöl followed, but was caught and, according to the laws of the Gondolindrim, forbidden to leave again since he had found the city. In a fury Eöl tried to kill first his son and then himself, but Aredhel threw herself in front of her son and died of the poisoned dart that was meant for him. The Gondolindrim weren't very happy with him and cast him over the cliffs of Caragdûr to his death. *g* And that was the story of Eöl. Oh, and I don't think that Legolas thinks all humans are dirty (well, maybe he does), but it's rather strange to find a nice, smooth, clean door in a dungeon, isn't it? I didn't know that 'ruth' existed either, but I looked it up in the dictionary and it's actually there. So I guess you're right. *g* LOL, I agree: Violence IS the answer. Always. When in doubt, use brute force, that's what I always say... *g* WWAF? Well, then just read on, I say! And yes, Legolas was worried about exactly that kind of touching. As I said, Teonvan is really, really sick. *shudders* I know, I need help. *huggles* Thanks a lot for your huge review!  
**Smile Neumann** - Oh yes, he most certainly is in trouble. So is everyone else... *g* Well, I think they all knew that it wasn't a very good idea to come to that place, but there wasn't a whole lot they could do, was there? I mean, they could have waited for days for something to happen, and that was just something they couldn't really affort. *grins evilly* Besides, I needed them to go inside, so they didn't really have a choice. Poor them.  
**Bailey** - Well, no, he wasn't supposed to leave. Don't hate Cendan, hate me. I didn't want him to leave. I mean, honestly, how stupid to you think he is? He didn't became a Lieutenant, as a half-Eaterling, by being stupid... *g* But I agree with you: Glorfindel and the others ARE stupid. Very very stupid. *g*  
**Someone Reading** - Exactly, they weren't thinking. I think that's their main problem... *g* I am glad you decided not to harm me - always remember, dead authors tend not to update very regularly. *g* Great to hear that you still like it, thanks a lot for all your reviews  
**MorierBlackleaf** - *g* It's very nice to see that someone else likes my sense of humour. It happens quite a lot that people simply stare at me with wide eyes and just shake their heads. *g* Glad to hear that you didn't hate the cliffy too much - I liked it, but I like all my cliffies - and thanks a lot for taking the time to review!  
**Irked** - Well, believe it or not, I know. Someone told me a week ago, but I somehow didn't have the time (or forgot) to change it. There are actually loads of mistakes in that chapter since I didn't have enough time to proof-read. *shrugs* All my fault. Thank you a lot for pointing it out though!  
**Jera** - Hmm, now I see your point. THIS review is huge. *g* Well, I think about everyone hates oral exams. The thing is that is horribly important - but I won't think of that now. *g* And to be honest, I thought the exact same thing about the "Sure, no problem..." bit. I even thought about deleting the sentence, but, well, I ... *smiles sheepishly* ... liked it somehow. Don't ask me why, I just felt like writing it. I know that it doesn't really fit, but at least I don't use 'okay'. *g* Okay, I know that that's a horrible excuse. *grimaces* Hmm, is it really? No-one - No one ... well, you're the native speaker, you must know. I'll try to keep it in mind. And please don't even start with the "that/this" and "these/those" thing. *smiles sheepishly* I _know_ that 'that' is farther away and all that, but I really have trouble deciding when something IS farther away and when not, if you know what I mean. It's one of these things I will never learn. *sighs sadly* I have one question about "untamable" versus "untameable": One of my dictionaries only has "untamable", and while the other has both, my (British English) spellchecker didn't like it. So I decided to use "untamable" to be on the safe side. So, does that mean that the British version isn't used anymore, that you can use both or what? About the Gods: You are right, Tolkien expressly states that the Valar aren't gods, they're merely powerful spirits. But that's something only the Elves and people who have come in contact with them know, since the Firstborn have actually lived with them, and Tolkien says in the Valaquenta: "The Great among these spirits the Elves name the Valar, the Powers of Arda, and Men have often called them gods." I am aware that that was most probably more or less the case only for the first few Ages, and not necessarily the Third, but I think that news don't exaclty travel fast in Rhûn. Superstition is quite powerful, and I think most more 'primitive' Men in the East and South wouldn't care much either if their Gods were merely guiding spirits. Besides, the only ones who call them Gods in my story are Men anyway, elves or rangers or even more 'civilised' Men always refer to them by their names. LOL, trust me, no coalition is going to turn up in one of my stories. Over my dead body, in fact... *g* Thank you very very much for your huge, wonderful review! Thanks a lot for pointing all these things out, really! How am I supposed to learn otherwise? Thanks!!  
**LegolasGreenleafGil****-Estel** - You are quite evil, aren't you? To torment your poor sister like that... *shakes head, then grins* Well, it's just what I would do... And yes, they do have a gambling problem, even though that is going to be the least of their worries soon, trust me... *evil grin* Sorry, but the spiders won't turn up this story (or the next, for that matter), but they might one of these days! And no, I didn't kill Adruran. He simply disappeared, but that's something the villains don't know. As far as they're concerned, all the soldiers from THOM died. You might be right, you know, Teonvan is a little bit like Geran. Just a little of course. *g* Thank you very very much for all your reviews! *huggles*  
**Miaow**** Artsy** - Lemon cake? Well, I guess you can never have too much of that... *g* Hmm, Laenro and Ethoani - Seobryn... The answer to that is: No, not really. While I have vague plans to bring Seobryn back one of these days, I don't think they'll be back. Sorry. But then again, everything's possible. *shrugs* Especially around here. Hmm, let me see, ten square feet should be about 3.3 m², which is definitely big enough for a cot (about 1.80 m x 0.50 m or something). But I admit that it's quite small, so maybe it's a little bigger than 3.3 m². *g* Or I got the whole foot-metre thing wrong, which still happens from time to time. In that case, just ignore it. *g* Thanks for pointing that out though, I'll have to think about it! Thanks for the review!  
**Zam** - Great you liked Wolf-Sauron. He's just misunderstood, really! *tries to pat him* Adorable, isn' he? LOL, I can just imagine the Valar doing something like that! Popcorn and all! And Nienna wouldn't find it funny - her job is crying after all, so... 'I shall name him Oswald, and he shall be mine, and he shall be my Oswald'?? ROTFL! Well, that's ... a good name! Really! Fëanáro is so ... old, Oswald IS way better! Even though Spalding is nice too... *g* So Celylith has turned against them, huh? Well, I don't really know if that was such a good idea... *shrugs* We'll see. And SADOMA sounds ... well, _wrong_. Just a little bit. *g*  
**Suzi** - Well, you once again wrote a novel. *g* J/k, I envy you! How can you write such HUGE reviews? Thanks so much! *huggles* And yes, I am indeed pleased that you have someone else to blame, even though I do enjoy death threats. Somtimes it can become too much even for me... *g* LOL, sleep deprivation, huh? Well, it's more or less a side-effect, I think. Even though sometimes it's their own fault. I didn't stop Legolas, did I? I mean, he could go to sleep, no problem, but he's so busy worrying about Estel that he doesn't. *shrugs* His fault. Oh, and don't worry, I think it will be Aragorn's term to drug Legolas next story. Perhaps even in this one, I don't know yet. LOL, Teonvan is a Nazgûl in disguise? Well, that's interesting - and slightly frightening... *g* Oh, never fear, Celylith will soon be far too busy staying alive to concentrate on his gambling problem. Trust me. *evil grin* Yup, theit behaviour was most certainly Fëanor stupid. I mean, HE was stupid, wasn't he? And I really don't think that it would be a good idea to allow Celylith to keep the adorable little ox. Wilwarin might get jealous. *g* *blinks* Your topic does sound interesting. More interesting than mine. *g* So Suzi's your real name? I like it, and you're right, it's not very Scottish. *g* Your father is a very lucky person! You can tell him that - I'm glad to hear that he's okay. It's no wonder he crashed his car, because, as my sister told me when she was visiting me in London last summer, you all drive on the wrong side of the road. We actually wanted to ask for an audience with the Queen to tell her that, but we ran out of time... *g* And if you give us some time, we'll come up with a very embarassing death! Don't worry. Once again, thanks so much for the huge review! *huggles*  
**Sabercrazy** - *bows* Thank you! It's very kind of you to say that! I love being evil! *huggles Sabercrazy* And don't worry, I am thinking about writing a female villain next story. My sister hasn't appeared yet in one of my stories and it's really time... Besides, she would be an awesome villain! So, we'll see... *g* And I have to agree: Even a short evil Celylith would be rather ... disconcerting. Maybe even a little frightening. *grabs the back of her shirt* Please stop hurting our favourite stupid elves! They only did what they did because I needed to get them into the city so Glorfindel could be tortured as you asked me to, so it's all your fault! And yes, the Gofi torture is coming, even though there won't be so much I'm afraid. I can't write much more of these scenes, I'm afraid. But don't worry, it will be here, but in chapter 26 or something like that. So you still have to wait a bit, sorry. *g* Anyway, thanks for the great - and slightly insane as always - review!  
**Tapetum**** Lucidum** - Wow, it worked? Yay! *confetti falls* Well done! You conquered the horrible FF.net, congrats! If I were you I really would go and buy a lottery ticket. *g* I guess you're right, Legolas should be a little more patient with Laenro, but I think neither of the one is willing to put up with the other for long at the moment. Males. *shakes head* And, strictly speaking, Ráca doesn't even belong to Legolas, it belonged to Erelas' father, I guess if it HAD belonged to Legolas, Celylith would have recognised it sooner. And yes, I think Legolas IS quite panicky at the moment. *evil grin* Who wouldn't be? I most certainly would.  
**Amelie** - Oh, don't worry about that. I simply looked it up in the dictionary; it's one of these words I know but don't know exactly what they mean. *g* Where would I be without my dictionary? Still in seventh grade, I think... *g* And why is everyone smacking Celylith? That's not really fair, you should smack Glorfindel and the twins too! Hmm, and let't just say that Cendan was loyal to Reran, not to Teonvan. And since all the condoning-Teonvan's-action-business he doesn't like Girion all that well either... *g* I hope this is not a cliffy, and I guess there will be another story after this one. IF I manage to finish this one, mind you.... *g*  
**Littleadryan** - Well, thank you! It's nice to hear that you like my insane little story! *g* I might write a sequel to this, I am not yet sure, but there's quite a good chance - if I can manage not to get side-tracked. *shakes fist* Damn all these evil plot bunnies! *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
  
**It's finally springtime! It's great and sunny and warm and I had my first real ice-cream this year today and and and... *trails off* Oh, yes. As always, thanks a lot for your great reviews! ****See you in a week! **  
  
  
  
  



	25. Come Into My Parlour

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**  
  
**Well, there's good news and there's bad news. I think I'll give you the good news first - I really do not enjoy being throttled, after all. *g*  
The good news is that ... uhm, yes, there's a new chapter here? *readers blink unimpressed* Okay, I admit it: I simply made the good news up to make this not sound quite as bad. So: The bad news is that I won't be able to post in a week. *ducks sharp, blunt and all other sorts of potentially lethal objects*  
  
I am really, really sorry, but I have my exams on Thursday and Friday next week, I haven't learned nearly enough, and I neither have the time nor much desire to write or edit any chapters. I really can't tell you when I'll be able to post the next bit, especially since that second evil paper is due just after the exams, but I hope Monday in a week, i.e. in about ten days. Out of the same reason there won't be any replies at the bottom this time, because I really don't have the time for them right now. I loved every single review, as always, and I am very sorry for this, but there really is no other way. I hope you understand.  
  
And I really have to say something to defend poor Glorfindel. I don't really know what myself, but come on, there really was no way the poor elf (or any of them, in fact) could have known that Girion was behind all this, could he? I mean, all they had for a warning were a lot of ominous undertones, far too amused evil minions and a dark, forbidding city - who could have resisted going there? *evil grin* Alright, alright, they were slightly stupid. No, now that I think about it, they were _very_ stupid. *g*  
  
  
Okay, I've got to return to my books that are beginning to pile up on my desk in a rather frightening imitation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. *g* Here's chapter 25, still without the stubborn ranger I'm afraid (don't worry though, he'll be back in the next chapter *g*). But there's lots of Legolas, Leanro and his sister who aren't really of the same opinion about much and also quite a bit of the twins, who are defintely coming to the conclusion that having come to this place might have been a mistake. *g* Well, we could have told them that, couldn't we?  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 25   
  
  
For a moment it was silent, but then the elven prince opened his eyes again and fixed a pleading, penetrating stare on the young woman's face. His eyes had darkened even more and had now assumed the colour of the sky just before darkness fell completely.   
  
"Please tell me you found this outside the walls next to an elf who is part of a large army ready to attack the city."   
  
Ethoani smiled thinly, the mirth not reaching her eyes.   
"I wish I could, Master Elf. I really wish I could."   
  
Legolas closed his eyes again, trying to master the feelings of panic and fear that were beginning to spread inside of him. Every time he thought it couldn't get any worse, something happened and proved how wrong he had been. He reached up with one of his bandaged hands and rubbed his aching forehead, not even noticing that he was rubbing over a large yellow-green bruise. How in the name of all the Valar should he explain all this to his father and his advisor?   
  
"You know him?" Laenro asked curtly, having already been informed by his sister about what had happened at the castle.   
  
"Oh yes," Legolas answered tiredly. "Yes, I do know him. His name is Celylith, and he has been my friend from childhood, for more than ten times longer than your city has existed." He stopped rubbing his forehead and opened his eyes, looking at Ethoani. "When was he captured?"   
  
"This evening," the brown haired girl answered quickly. "He and three other elves came here, looking for you and the ranger. There was no way they could have known that Girion was behind your capture; he has been careful that word of his plans does not spread beyond the city walls."   
  
"What about the army?" Legolas asked incredulously. "The Easterlings' camp must have been visible for miles!"   
  
"They have moved off into the forest to the East. From what I've heard the elves were clearly suspicious but apparently decided to take the risk." She smiled slightly. "It appears that they managed to get our 'lord' quite upset in quite a short amount of time."   
  
The fair haired elf hung his head. That had been to be expected, hadn't it?   
"Let me guess: Two of his companions are twins with dark hair, grey eyes and remarkably quick tongues."   
  
"Indeed," the girl nodded. "And the third has golden hair and the wisest blue eyes I have ever seen."   
  
Legolas frowned, trying to determine who that elf could be, when a sudden thought struck him. Lord Elrond would surely not have sent the twins over the Misty Mountains alone at this time of year, would he?   
"Lord Glorfindel?"   
  
Ethoani's brow furrowed as she tried to remember the elves' strange, alien names.   
"I think so. I don't know though, I am sorry. Your names are hard to remember."   
  
'So are yours,' Legolas thought inwardly, but did not voice his thoughts since he was far too busy sliding into a state of mindless panic. What in Eru's name had happened? How had Celylith and the others found them? Had they found Aragorn's rune and come to the right conclusions? He should have thought of something like this, he thought angrily. He should have asked these humans to warn any stranger who entered this city, he should have made sure that his friends didn't stumble into this trap, he should have…   
  
"Master Elf?" Laenro's voice cut through his frantic thoughts. "Do you think they were alone? Could there be more of your people waiting somewhere close by?"   
  
Legolas forced himself to look up at the man, hating himself as he shook his head and saw the hopeful sparkle in the man's eyes fade and die.   
"I don't think so, I am sorry. Had there been more and they had travelled with a group of my f…. – my king's warriors, they would never have sent them as envoys, for that they are far too valuable. The twins are Lord Elrond's sons and heirs who is a very powerful lord on the other side of the great mountain range. They would never have been allowed to come here without a contingent of guards and under the flag of truce, and neither would their companions."   
  
He fell silent, his thoughts slipping further into turmoil. His words were true enough: None of his father's captains would have allowed both sons of Elrond to embark on such a dangerous mission at once. Not even Lord Glorfindel would be able to change anything about it; there was no way all three of them would have been permitted to go into a potentially hostile town to check things out. No, he thought despairingly, the twins must have followed their human brother's example and must have secretly slipped out of the palace to follow them, and Celylith and Lord Elrond's golden haired advisor had apparently decided to accompany them. And now, he concluded, they were all caught in the same trap, were trapped in this dark city that seemed to swallow up light and air and hope…   
  
Legolas interrupted his rambling train of thought right there, the last word causing him to look up at Aragorn's pale face to his right. The ranger looked much better already, and he was really beginning to think that he might wake up soon, something he hadn't been able to hope for this past day. The thought of Aragorn waking up served to bring him to his senses more quickly than a shower of cold water could have. How would he be able to tell his friend that his brothers had been captured?   
  
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. Yes, that was what he needed to do: Focus on the situation at hand. It was bad, indeed, but it could be much worse. At least he thought so.  
"Tell me what happened," he told Ethoani who had been watching him uneasily. "From the very beginning. Don't leave anything out."   
  
"I can't tell you much," the girl shrugged lightly. "I wasn't in the great hall when they arrived; I merely saw them in the courtyard and talked to a few of the other servants later. They arrived and sought an audience with Girion which they were granted, obviously. One of them seems to have recognised a horse in the courtyard that told him that you or the ranger had to be here, and so the whole thing came out. Even if he had not seen it, it wouldn't have changed anything, of course. Girion is said to be very happy to have got his hands on suitable 'substitutes' for you. They have still increased the search for you though; there are even more guards on the streets now than before."   
  
An icy shudder raced down Legolas' back at the young woman's words. Substitutes. Varda Elentári, please no. He gritted his teeth and looked back at Ethoani.   
"They are in the dungeons now."   
  
The girl looked at her brother before she turned her eyes onto the fair haired elf sitting on the edge of the narrow pallet.   
"Yes, they are. It's now about the eleventh hour. They arrived five hours ago and were brought to the dungeons almost immediately afterwards."   
  
Legolas nodded automatically, not even being aware that he was doing so. It figured, didn't it? They could just as well have stayed in their cell; it might even have been better. Now the twins, Glorfindel and Celylith would pay the price for all the mistakes he had made – just like Galalith and Anardir had. He swallowed thickly. What if Girion knew that Celylith was from Mirkwood, what if he tried to make him tell him what he wanted to know? Legolas knew that his silver haired friend would rather die than betray their people to an enemy, any enemy. Celylith wouldn't tell them anything, and for that he would die. They would all die.   
  
He forcefully shook his head, his eyes once again straying to Aragorn's face. Concentrate, he told himself, he needed to concentrate.   
"So what are you planning to do?"   
  
The two humans traded another look, Ethoani appearing uncertain while her brother appeared uncomfortable but determined.   
  
"Nothing," the man finally said slowly and averted his eyes. "There is nothing we _can _do. The guards in the castle are doubled, there are soldiers everywhere in the city and, most importantly, they are expecting something like this. We were lucky the first time, but we won't be so lucky again. Girion now knows that we pose a bigger threat than he had thought and will have made arrangements to prevent whatever we could do to try and free them. I am sorry, Master Elf," he shook his head, still not being able to look the fair haired being in the eye. "There is nothing we cando. We are in enough danger already, and I cannot risk any of my men any further than I already have."   
  
A part of Legolas wanted to protest against the man's words, but he quickly thought better of it. Laenro had been reluctant to help them in the first place, and nothing he could say or do would be able to sway his mind now. Besides, and that was the worst bit, the man was even right. He and his sister had already risked much for Aragorn and him and he couldn't possibly ask them to risk their lives or that of their men even further on what they would undoubtedly consider a fool's errand.   
  
He simply nodded at Laenro which seemed to greatly surprise the man and slowly got to his feet, trying to ignore the aches and pains in his body. He took a step closer to Aragorn's bed and gave the still unconscious ranger a long look, reaching out and placing a hand on his forehead. The fever had dropped considerably, thank the Valar, and now he was indeed convinced that he would wake up from his fever-induced sleep. The elf gave a mental headshake and withdrew his hand, turning back to the two silent humans at his back.   
  
"See to it that he stays in bed, please. He'll try to escape as soon as he can stand."   
  
Laenro shot his sister a confused look before he hurriedly stepped in front of the elf, blocking his way to the exit.   
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"   
  
Legolas gave the man a blank, emotionless look, but stopped in his tracks, mainly because he didn't think he would be able to stand a collision right now. Somehow the few hours of sleep hadn't helped at all; if anything, he felt more tired and exhausted than before.   
"I understand that you cannot help us. I may not know my way around this city, but I will do what I can to free my friends."   
  
For a moment, the man was truly rendered speechless.   
"What?" he finally exclaimed flabbergasted. "This is madness! You will be caught in an instant! Half the city is out there searching for you! Without knowledge of the north-western district's layout you won't even get to the main street!"   
  
"That is a risk I will have to take," Legolas shook his head stubbornly. "I will not leave my friends in Teonvan's or Glamir's hands if I can do anything about it. All I ask of you is that you look after my friend and, should I fail to return, to keep him hidden until you can get him safely out of the city. He will not want to stay here, but you must force him to."   
  
"I cannot allow you to leave this house," Laenro shook his head as well, a steely glint in his eyes. "I know that you think you can keep your silence should they capture you, and perhaps you even can, but I am not willing to take that risk. There's too much at stake here."   
  
"I would advise you against trying to stop me," Legolas said softly. "You and your sister saved my friend's life as well as my own. I would hate to repay your kindness in a less-than-polite way."   
  
"You are threatening me again, elf," Laenro all but hissed. "This is becoming rather tiresome. Let me make this perfectly clear: You – are – not – leaving – this – house. Understood?"   
  
"Your constant unwillingness to take me seriously is beginning to tire _me_, Master Laenro," the elf answered, his eyes boring into the man's. "I am grateful for all you've done for me and Strider, but you are not my keeper! Until you want to lock me into this room and treat me the same way Girion and his men have, I would advise you to step aside and let me pass."   
  
"Stop it!" Ethoani's sharp voice cut through the air. "You two are behaving most childish! You," she wheeled around to her brother, "are twenty-five summers old! And you," she glared at the wide-eyed Legolas, "are older than all the inhabitants of this house put together! And yet you behave like two squabbling children!" She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. "You are both right. We cannot afford to send any more men. They would be caught before they had even entered the dungeons. But you," she nodded at Legolas, "are not up to going anywhere! Look at you! You are swaying on your feet and are pale enough to give a wraith a run for his money! You wouldn't even get to the castle gates without falling flat on your face!"   
  
"So?" Legolas arched an eyebrow, thoroughly annoyed with these humans now. He was always trying to treat the Second People normally, at least since he had met Aragorn, but it quite often appeared to him that they were really rather slow on the uptake. Besides, about every second of them seemed to think that he or she had to mother him or generally treat him like a twenty-year-old human male.   
  
Next to him, Laenro crossed his arms and gave his sister an exasperated look.   
"You took the word right out of my mouth, elf."   
  
Ethoani rolled her eyes at them, apparently marvelling at the stupidity of the male gender.   
"So you will not go, Master Elf. I will." She frowned slightly, ignoring the two males' wide eyes and turned serious eyes back on the elf. "I will need something from you, a token or a sign that tells them that you have sent me. I will not be able to afford to lose any time because they don't trust me – like you did."   
  
Before Legolas could even open his mouth, Laenro had taken a step forward, his eyes filled with disbelief and anger.   
"You will not go, Ethoani. I forbid it."   
  
"Don't be silly, Laenro," the girl shook her head, her eyes large and afraid, but determined in her face. "You know that this is the only way."   
  
"What I know or don't know is of no importance here!" her brother protested darkly. "I am the head of this house, and you are my sister! I forbid you to go and get yourself killed!"   
  
The young woman's eyes darkened and she took a step closer to the brown haired man.   
"You forbid it?" she repeated heatedly. "No one has the right to forbid me to take from Girion what he desires!"   
  
"I have every right!" Laenro retorted, obviously trying very hard not to lose his temper. "I am your brother! If I tell you to stay at home, you are staying! That is the way of things!"   
  
"Yes," Ethoani nodded, suddenly very calm. "That is the way of things. Yet if everything had gone according to 'the way of things', Laenro, I would be married now. Who knows, I might even be a mother! But we will never know, will we?" Anger and another emotion began to cloud her eyes, even though it was pushed back again before Legolas could identify it. "He took that away from me, brother! The minute they killed Ciran all that was taken from me along with him! All our plans and the dreams we had shared were taken from me that moment, my _life _was taken from me! And even if I will never get it back, I will make Girion pay for doing that to me, to us!"   
  
Ethoani swallowed thickly and turned large blue eyes onto the elf, tears pooling in their sad, desperate depths.   
"Your friends, Master Elf. They know things that would aid Girion, correct?"   
  
"Yes, they do," Legolas nodded. "They know many things that Girion would very much like to hear." He noticed Laenro's dark look and added hastily, "But that does not mean that I agree with your decision, my lady. You cannot go back there, you would be captured as well and that would help no…"   
  
"Then it is settled," Ethoani interrupted him and turned to her brother. "Have Sero and someone else await us at the shop in two hours, with the orders to leave if we have not appeared in four hours. Unfortunately there is no other passage as close to the dungeons as the one that ends there. I would like to use another, but I have the feeling that they won't be up to walking a longer distance than absolutely necessary. I will need Sero's help, for I cannot carry four elves all by myself."   
  
Laenro was obviously tempted to say something, most probably something that accused the girl of having lost the last remnants of her sanity, but as he looked into his sister's eyes his expression softened. Instead of yelling at Ethoani as she obviously expected him to, he merely reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, sorrow and affection swirling in his eyes.   
"Go then if you must, sister. Do not take any unnecessary risks and come back in one piece. I know that he would not have wanted you to die needlessly to avenge his death."   
  
Ethoani gave her brother a small, quivering smile.   
"Another thing we will never know, I fear." She nodded into Legolas' direction before whirling around to the door. "I will leave in five minutes."   
  
Without another word she left the room, her soft footsteps fading quickly in the distance. Legolas slowly sat down on the narrow bed, his eyes fixed on Laenro's face.   
"Ciran was the man who got caught seven months ago in the castle, wasn't he?"   
  
"Yes," the man nodded. "Yes, he was. He was … interrogated for more than a week by Glamir and Teonvan and publicly executed, and there was nothing we could do. He also was my friend and my sister's fiancé."   
  
"She must have loved him very much," Legolas said quietly.   
  
"Aye," Laenro looked at his hands. "Aye, she did, and he loved her back with all his heart. When they captured him, he kept his silence long enough so that we could get our people to safety and evacuate most of the other safe houses he knew about, but even in the end he never betrayed her or the location of this house. It is the most profound proof of love I can think of under these circumstances." He shook his head minutely and raised his eyes again. "We will need something she can show your friends. It has to be small enough so she can hide it, like a piece of jewellery or a small weapon like your friend's dagger. If she is supposed to get them out, she must not attract any attention."   
  
Legolas nodded darkly, doing his best to try and feel even the tiniest bit as confident as Ethoani and her brother. Girion wasn't stupid, and neither was Glamir. He knew that the brown haired girl had a much better chance than any of them to actually do what they had been talking about, but all his instincts rebelled against sending another one, and a human female at that, into danger. Still, he also knew that this was the only possible way and that neither he nor Laenro would be able to change the young woman's mind now.   
  
"I think I know just the thing," he said slowly, trying to think of something both the twins, Glorfindel and Celylith would recognise. "They will know that it's from us." Legolas reached over to where Aragorn's few undamaged pieces of clothing lay on one of the two chairs and quickly searched through them, finally locating the small item he had been looking for. He painfully straightened up again, deciding that Ethoani was right and he would really not have made it to the castle gates. He offered the object to Laenro, who quickly took it. "Here. Tell her to look after herself, not to allow them to start talking because they'll never stop and not to lose it if somehow possible."   
  
Laenro merely nodded and turned into the direction of the door without a word, but stopped on the threshold when the blond elf's soft words sounded through the dark room that was only lit by a small lamp in one of the corners.   
"You fear she will be captured and die just like her fiancé, don't you?"   
  
For a moment, Legolas thought the man wouldn't answer him, but then Laenro turned, a dark, unreadable expression on his face.   
"No," he said quietly. "No, I do not. The risk of capture is something we have learned to live with a long time ago." His eyes darkened even further and his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "What I fear is that she won't try to avoid it hard enough."   
  
The man shook his head again, gave the elven prince a small nod and turned around, quickly walking out of the room and leaving the elven prince and his human friend behind in the small, dark room.   


  
  
Had Elrohir been up to it, he would have started pacing back and forth. No, he thought darkly over the pounding in his head, he would pace over to that wall, give it a good look to ascertain its solidity and start banging his head against it.   
  
That might increase the pain in his head, but at least it would take his thoughts off their current situation. Elrohir growled, that thought only serving to incense him even more. He had been such a fool, _they _had been such fools! They should have listened to Glorfindel when he had told them to turn around and leave, they should never have set foot into this accursed town!   
  
The dark haired elf took a deep breath and resisted the urge to open his eyes, knowing that the world would start spinning again if he did. The nausea inside of him began to grow and rise up the back of his throat, and he decided that taking deep breaths was a stupid idea. To take small, shallow breaths was the way to go. Oh, wouldn't his father be happy to see him?   
  
The mental image of his father's scowling face invaded his mind and brought him out of his musings and back to reality and its small, dark cell. He balled his hands into fists to distract himself from his surroundings, and, more importantly, from what had happened recently – and was still happening. A sharp, insistent echo of pain at the back of his mind made him wince and clamp his eyes even more tightly shut than they already were. He knew what that meant; it was something he had felt many times in the millennia he had already lived, far too many times.   
  
It wasn't his pain he was feeling, and yet it was. It was Elladan's, and since a part of him was forever linked with his twin, he felt strong emotions and feeling with his brother. And that stab of pain that had just run through his body from his already aching head to his bruised toes had been intense enough for him to guess how much worse it had to be for his twin right now. For a moment, fury washed over him and he pressed the back of his head against the cold wall of the cell. Why did Elladan always have to be so … so unbearably protective? He was only a few minutes younger than he, it could not be more than _five minutes _in Elbereth's name, and yet Elladan always acted as if he was centuries older than he! What gave him the right to do such things!?   
  
Elrohir allowed himself to hold onto that anger since it drowned out a little bit of the fear, pain, worry and panic that were threatening to pull him under. _Nothing _gave his dear brother the right to do such things, that was the answer, and that was exactly what he would tell him as soon as he saw him again. _If _he saw him again, a small, dark voice in his head noted a second later.   
  
The younger twin quickly pushed it aside, preferring not to think of such things. That was one thing that had never scared him much, because he knew that he would never be separated for long from his twin. Neither of them would survive the other's death, and even if one of them did die here in this horrible, dark place, the other would follow him soon into death. It had always comforted him in an odd way to know that he would quickly follow his brother to the Halls of Mandos should he be taken from him, but, somehow, it failed to reassure him at all right now.   
  
This time, it wasn't only the two of them; this was no hunting trip that had gone wrong or a fight with a horde of orcs whose numbers they had underestimated. This time, there were Celylith and Glorfindel to consider as well, and …. Estel and Legolas. Elrohir felt how his heart constricted even more. The mere thought of his merry friend or his little brother in this place, in such a cell, in the hands of these people was enough to make his blood run cold.   
  
Elrohir's thoughts were once again jumbling and beginning to stray into random directions, and he forced himself to ignore his pounding head and to concentrate on what had happened today. It would help him stay awake, and having to stay awake was very important. He couldn't truly remember why, but it was very important.   
  
Alright, the dark haired elf thought wryly as he tried not to pay attention to another sharp pain that stabbed through his head. So, what had happened?   
  
First: They had walked into the stupidest, most obvious trap he could remember having ever seen in his life. Alright, they had more or less walked into it knowingly, but since they had still been captured, that didn't really count as a success, did it?   
Second: They had been dragged into the darkest, dankest dungeons he had ever been in – and about that he _was _certain. Orc camps and caves did not count as dungeons, so this was positively the most foreboding, uncomfortable place he had been in for a long time.   
Third: They … they were in deep trouble.   
  
Elrohir suppressed a small, erratic giggle, the healer in him noticing that his head wound was probably a lot worse than he had first thought. Yes, they were indeed in deep trouble. After they had been dragged down here, they had been pushed into these small, damp cells that were barely bigger than their wardrobes back at home in Rivendell. In fact, that might actually have been an insult to their wardrobes back at home.   
  
Be that as it may, the cells were tiny, but that wasn't what had bothered them most, of course. What had really bothered them was the fact that they had been separated: Elladan and he had been put into this excuse for a room, and he suspected that Celylith and Glorfindel were occupying one just like it at the moment, only a little further down the corridor. He couldn't be sure, since the walls and door were thick, and neither he nor Elladan had been able to hear where their companions had been taken.   
  
They had only needed to exchange one look after the door had closed behind them to come to the conclusion that, this time, they had outdone themselves. They had still been in the process of enumerating all their faults and all the mistakes they had made when, only about half an hour after they had been thrown into this wonderful room, the door had opened again and they had been dragged out. After quite a long time of turning left and right and right and left during which he had completely lost his bearings they had arrived in front of a smooth, well-made door – and everything had gone downhill from then on.   
  
Elrohir shook his head and froze instantly when sharp pain had lanced through his temples. There was one positive thing about all this: If that Glamir person was busy with him and Elladan, he didn't have time to "interrogate" either Celylith and Glorfindel or Legolas and Aragorn.   
  
In the same moment the younger twin came to that decision, another, this time much sharper pain stabbed through his head, causing him to suck in his breath and hold it in an attempt to block out his twin's pain. He took everything back, he thought darkly, there was _no _positive thing about this whole situation, and that was because his stupid, over-protective brother had once again tried to divert attention from him to himself.   
  
Deep in his heart he knew that he would have done exactly the same had he been a little bit more coherent and his head hadn't hurt quite as much, but that didn't change anything of course. He was still here, alone, his heart breaking in his chest bit by bit every time he felt an echo of his brother's pain – and all that just because Elladan had once again decided that he needed to protect him, his "little" brother.   
  
Elrohir's anger that was based solely on his worry and fear for his twin faded a little when he thought back of what had happened only about an hour or two ago – he had lost count in here. Elladan had indeed inherited what their father had once called their grandmother's Elwing's talent to know instinctively what to say to make someone so furious he forgot everything around him, that much was sure…   
  
  
_This time, Elrohir actually saw the concussion coming his way, something he had never thought possible or had experienced before, and he had sustained this particular kind of injury quite a few times in the past – and not always in battle. _  
  
_There was hardly an elf he could think of who hadn't broken a few bones or concussed his or her head as elflings – except maybe Glorfindel if one could believe his words, which no one ever did, of course. If one believed the golden haired elf lord, however, he had been the prime example of a wonderfully obedient, well behaved child who had never disobeyed his parents or done anything to get himself or his friends into trouble. This was usually the part where Glorfindel's audience broke into loud, roaring laughter since everybody knew that Glorfindel must have been a terror as a child – it was simply not possible that he had changed so much and had started displaying his mischievous, overly merry nature only after reaching his majority._   
  
_Be that as it may, Elrohir thought detachedly as he watched the club that was being swung at his head come closer as if in slow-motion or some kind of trance, Elladan and he had been anything but well behaved, obedient elflings, and he freely admitted that they had got into their fair share of scrapes and trouble. And therefore, he concluded dreamily, he knew exactly what a concussion felt like, namely like … this._   
  
_The wooden, metal-plated club connected with his left temple and turned his world first blindingly white and then dark as night, and he felt as if someone had pulled the rag out from under his feet, sending him into a free fall to the floor. He was still clear-minded enough not to expect a collision with it, knowing full well that he was shackled to the wall and would go – or fall, for that matter – nowhere in the near future._   
  
_In the moment the weapon hit him and the impact plunged his senses into a frantic, sickening abyss of chaos, pain and confusion, the sounds all around him faded out, making it hard for him to distinguish between the voices and the roaring sound of the rushing blood that throbbed through his head with every quick heartbeat. He felt a warm liquid soak into his hair and trickle down the side of his head that had sunken forward, and it wouldn't have surprised him in at all had the same fallen off his shoulders and dropped to the floor to roll away._   
  
_A pain-filled, soft moan sounded overly loud in his ears, causing him to realise that it must be his and that he really needed to keep his mouth shut in the future. He felt how the word faded out even more, but somehow, the voices became clearer and more persistent, and so he was soon able to hear what was being spoken in this horrible, sickeningly homely room, if he only combated the pain in his head strongly enough._   
  
_"…stupid fool! You could have killed him! I told you, not – the – head, didn't I?"_   
  
_That was the small man's voice, he realised a moment later, and he didn't sound too happy. Under any other circumstances Elrohir would have smiled. It appeared that … Glamir – was that his name? – didn't appreciate the club's owner's over-eagerness in the slightest – which was the first thing Elrohir could agree on with this man._   
  
_"Typical," a voice that Elrohir thought to be his own interjected. Since he seriously doubted that he would even be capable of articulating monosyllabic sounds, the younger twin came to the conclusion that it must be Elladan's voice, which sounded furious, worried, pained and even a little bit calculating all at once._   
  
_"What is typical, Master Elf?" That was Glamir again._   
  
_"Oh, you and your men's incompetence, of course," Elladan went on, sounding amused and contemptuous. "Elbereth Gilthoniel, what a sad performance! You cannot even control your men, how could you hope to extract any information from us? You are clumsy, slow humans, that is all."_   
  
_Panic washed through Elrohir's body, lending him enough strength to open his eyes the tiniest bit. What in the name of Eru Ilúvatar did Elladan think he was doing? He had been perfectly happy – well, happy might be the wrong word, but he had been satisfied – that the men had picked **him **for their little demonstration of 'the many uses of a metal-plated club', and now that reckless fool went and ruined everything!_   
  
_For a moment, Elrohir's eyes refused to co-operate, but then he saw something he hadn't wanted to see under any circumstances: A white-faced Glamir standing in front of his twin who was being held tight by three guards and was giving the man his patented, arrogant look of absolute, heartfelt superiority, a look that had managed to incense even the most even-tempered, controlled beings on Arda. It was a look that did precisely one thing to most people: Awake the overpowering, irresistible urge to kill Elladan. Elrohir nearly closed his eyes again. Why had the Valar given him such an idiot for a brother?_   
  
_"You are being … very unreasonable, Master Elf," Glamir told Elladan softly. "Not to mention rude, of course. If you do not want to take your brother's place over there," he nodded over to the semi-conscious, bruised and bloodied Elrohir who was flanked left and right by two guards, one of them holding a large, metal-plated club and wearing a shame-faced expression, "I would advise you to hold your tongue. You know my lord's orders, I presume, and you will agree that 'alive' is a term that leaves a lot to be desired in terms of precision."_   
  
_"Your lord!" Elladan snorted, the calculating look in his eyes lost on the small, grey haired man who was obviously in the process of losing his temper. "He is a madman, and if you or any of your men had enough courage and intelligence to see it, you would agree. You are but men who think they can be a match for the Firstborn. You are pathetic, nothing more, just like Girion who needs to abduct and torture people for information he is not skilled enough to obtain through any other means! If this," he nodded at his ashen-faced twin, barely concealing the open worry on his features, "is all you can do, we'll be at this a long, long time! It is time I have, but I doubt you do. You are, after all, only mortal. You are weak, and will forever stay weak. You want to be an artist? Ha! All you are is pitiful, pitiful and sick and desperate to prove your self-worth by breaking other men, no matter how much you want to deny it."_ _  
  
At that point two thoughts flittered through Elrohir's mind with amazing speed, one followed quickly by the other. Had Elladan taken complete leave of his senses!? To provoke this small man like this was nothing but suicidal, or… calculation, he realised a moment later. Had he been able to speak, he would have begged his twin to be silent. If there was one thing he didn't want to see, it was his brother being hurt in order to protect him._   
  
_The older twin had, however, not averted his eyes from Glamir's slowly reddening face, which had turned from angry-white to dark red during his monologue. It took the man a few more seconds to regain control over his body, and a couple of seconds later he stepped forward and smashed his fist into Elladan's face. _  
  
_The dark haired elf's head was thrown backwards by the surprising force of the blow, and he raised it slowly a moment later, blood trickling down from his split lip and adding to the dark spots that could already been seen on his light grey shirt that originated from other small wounds on his face and torso. He raised a mocking eyebrow, the arrogant expression still firmly attached to his face._   
_"And this is supposed to change my mind?"_   
  
_For a moment, Elrohir's befuddled mind that was having more and more trouble to concentrate on the present expected the grey haired man to throw himself down onto the floor in a childish fit of rage – something he would even have understood. There was no one who knew better than him how incredibly annoying his brother could be, after all, and as an elfling he had done just that many times._   
  
_Glamir resisted that urge though, however hard it may have been for him to do so. He merely took a deep breath and stepped back, motioning to the guards left and right of Elrohir._   
_"Get him off the wall and back to their cell. I think I and his dear brother have some things to discuss. We'll have more than enough time to take care of him later."_   
  
_The men bowed their heads in acknowledgement of the man's orders and stepped closer to the younger twin, each of them working on one of the metal manacles. A moment later the hinges opened and released the elf's chafed wrists, and the sudden movement of falling forward before he was roughly caught by one of the men proved to be too much for Elrohir and his pounding and rather uncooperative head._   
  
_The swirling darkness in front of his eyes grew and intensified, and the last thing he saw before he lost his grip on reality and fell into the dark abyss that opened up in front of him was his brother's small, victorious smile._   
  
  
And it had been the very last thing he had seen, too, Elrohir concluded darkly. He hadn't kept his eyes open for longer than a minute after he had regained consciousness about ten minutes ago here in their cell – at least he thought it was their cell, for it could easily have been another one that looked like it. There was nothing by which he could identify it, not that he cared much overly much anyway. It was small and dark and he was alone, that was all that mattered.   
  
Elrohir suddenly realised that the pain in the back of his mind had abated somewhat, something that filled him with the most profound sense of gratitude imaginable. He would kill all those who had dared hurt his brother, he vowed inwardly – after having killed aforementioned sibling, of course. He would strangle that reckless, hot-headed fool for behaving so stupidly, the Valar help him! He was sure he would manage to do that, even without opening his eyes. He would simply wrap his hands around his dear twin's throat and … squeeze…   
  
The low sounds of footsteps permeated the fog that seemed to fill the small space of the cell, and a moment later the door was opened and a body was thrown in, luckily right on top of Elrohir, therefore cushioning the fall. Only after the door had closed again Elrohir began to move, forcing his aching eyelids to open. Once his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness, he saw what he already knew: The body that had knocked him so rudely against the stone wall was Elladan, even though he hardly recognised him in the darkness, so changed was he from what he had looked like a few hours before.   
  
"Elladan? Brother! Answer me!"   
  
Not even the smallest moan could be heard from the other elf, and the reasons for that quickly became apparent to Elrohir. The older twin's shirt was gone, leaving him bare-chested and shivering slightly even in his obviously unconscious state. Elrohir frowned darkly as he forced his eyes to remain cooperative, why was he shivering? It wasn't that cold in here, and he rightly shouldn't…   
  
The question of whether or not Elladan should feel cold faded abruptly in his mind as he painfully moved to the side to extricate himself from under his brother. He managed to move to the side and lay the other elf onto the floor without jostling him too much, and that was the point all his thoughts screeched to a halt and a cold emptiness began to fill his heart.   
  
Elladan lay on his side, still propped up against the cold, damp stone wall. His torso looked relatively unmarred, apart from a few swiftly darkening bruises. Elrohir himself looked much worse, but the other's torso wasn't what caused his heart to freeze inside of him. His back… O great Manwë, his back…   
  
Elrohir forced his feelings to the back as his mind, summoning all his experience as a healer as he tried not to lose his head. He ignored his own aching body as best as he could as well as the fact that his head seemed to experience the sudden urge to try and self-combust and carefully reached out with one of his hands, thanking the Valar that neither he nor Elladan had been bound before they had been thrown in here.   
  
When he had managed to turn his brother onto his stomach, he felt how his jaw clenched in fear and sudden, overwhelming fury. Elladan's back was covered in weals, weals that looked so orderly and perfect that he thought for a moment that some kind of machine must have made them. Less than an inch separated the deep red welts, running in exact, vertical lines from one side of his twin's body to the other.   
  
Elrohir forced himself to throw off the paralysing fear and rage that filled him and slowly reached out to examine the injuries, realising that this had to be what Glamir considered "art". Hatred so fierce that it threatened to choke him welled up inside of him, and he had to consciously stop his hands from shaking with it. How dare this man hurt his brother like this, he thought enraged, how dare he…   
  
His train of thought was interrupted when a soft moan cut escaped the prostrate figure on the ground, and Elrohir leaned forward, placing one hand on the only place he could find on the other's back that seemed uninjured: His neck. The younger twin's head seemed to be of the opinion that bursting into at least seven different pieces was a good idea, but Elrohir pushed it back, ignoring the pain as best as he could.   
"Elladan? Don't move."   
  
For several moments, Elladan didn't answer, but his movements ceased and he lay still once again. Finally, when Elrohir thought he might have lost consciousness again, the older twin whispered back, sounding about as exhausted as Elrohir felt.   
"Wasn't … planning…"   
  
Despite their situation, Elrohir had to smile.   
"That is well, _gwanur nín_. You wouldn't get far anyway." He attempted to shake his head but froze as pain lanced through his temples, making him inhale sharply. "Why do you always do such things, brother?" he added after a moment. "I am just as old and mature as you are; you needn't protect me all the time."   
  
"You are … my _little _brother," Elladan stressed and blindly grasped his twin's hand, attempting to push himself into a sitting position. "It doesn't matter if by a minute or three thousand years. I am the oldest. They would have hurt you more, I couldn't allow that."   
  
"I am fine. Really," Elrohir glowered at his brother, but helped him sit up and lean against the wall with one of his shoulders. "And what am I supposed to say when they hurt you instead of me and I have to watch? Tell me that!"   
  
"You didn't watch," Elladan pointed out breathlessly.   
  
For a moment, Elrohir experienced the very vivid urge to strangle his brother, but forced himself not to. He had had this particular conversation a thousand times with his brother, and he would have it a thousand times again. Neither of them was willing to back down from his position, and Elrohir was beginning to suspect that it was something they would keep arguing about for all eternity.   
  
"What did they do to you, Elladan?" he asked softly and shifted slightly to get a better look at his brother's back. "What did this?"   
  
"Whip," the other elf answered curtly, not being able to suppress a small shudder that raced through him at the memories. "The weals are symmetrical, aren't they? He was very proud of them."   
  
Elrohir bit his lower lip, grateful that the other couldn't see his face. How much he wished to kill Glamir!   
"What else?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible as he looked for something he could use to clean his brother's wounds, knowing that Elladan never offered the entire truth about his injuries.   
  
He shortly contemplated ripping a piece of cloth out of his own, rather tattered shirt, but quickly decided against it. There wasn't much left to rip to pieces, besides, he didn't have any water anyway. The bleeding had, thanks to Elladan's elven healing powers, already stopped, and if he were to start bandaging these cuts now with his not really clean shirt it wouldn't help in the slightest but only increase the danger of infection.   
  
Elladan hesitated, apparently contemplating whether he should tell his twin the rest or not.   
"There was a … potion of some sorts," he finally admitted softly. "They poured it into the welts. I don't know what it was, but it feels … wrong, somehow. It burns and is cold at the same time. I can still feel it. I think it may be some kind of poison."   
  
Irritation that Elladan hadn't told him about this sooner welled up inside of the younger twin, and to mask that feeling he reached out and felt the other's forehead, to his obvious chagrin.   
"You do feel a little warm," he agreed reluctantly, inwardly deciding that this brew might have been the reason for Elladan's shivering that had still not abated. He shifted slightly so that he could look into his brother's face, eyes dark and large in his shadowed face. "How bad was it?"   
  
"Bad," Elladan admitted after a few seconds. "Very bad. I'm surprised you couldn't hear me."   
  
Elrohir took another deep breath, the hatred inside of him even intensifying, before he forced himself to smile, trying to distract his twin who obviously felt guilty that he hadn't remained silent the entire time.   
"I think this cell is too far away," he said lightly. "Besides, I woke up only recently."   
  
"Oh," Elladan merely nodded and carefully leaned back against the wall, proving to his brother that something definitely was wrong. After contemplating for a moment whether he should allow Elladan to tell him when he was ready (which he never would be, he knew his brother well enough to realise that) Elrohir frowned slightly and reached out to grasp his twin's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.   
  
"There's more," he stated quietly, barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "What else did they do?"   
  
Elladan looked as if he wanted to deny everything, pain and uncertainty swirling in his eyes, but then he bit his lip, his eyes darkening even further.   
"Nothing," he said slowly. "They did nothing to me. It's … Estel."   
  
"What?" Elrohir let go of his brother's chin, the fear in his heart even growing. "What do you mean?"   
  
"That man – Glamir," Elladan began and closed his eyes. "He told me some things. He started bragging sometime towards the end when I had made him really angry." He shook his head quickly. "Lies, that's what his words are. Nothing but lies."   
  
"What did he tell you?" Elrohir asked again. "Please, brother, I need to know."   
  
Finally the older twin raised his eyes, naked fear in their grey depths.   
"He said he was dead," he said emotionlessly. "He said he had allowed the captain of the men who captured Legolas to do with him as he pleased. He said that they had needed Legolas alive, but not Estel."   
  
For a moment, Elrohir was rendered speechless, but then he shook his head forcefully, clinging to the pain that movement brought to clear his mind.   
"He's not dead," he stated flatly. "He lied. Our brother is not dead, and neither is Legolas."   
  
"How can you be sure?" Elladan asked back, seeming to sag against the wall. "You cannot be sure! We don't know anything; we don't even know if they're still here!"   
  
"But they _were_ here," Elrohir tried to soothe his brother and leaned back against the wall as well, resisting the urge to close his eyes again. He sensed that he would lose consciousness as soon as he allowed his eyelids to drop, and that was something he couldn't allow under any circumstances. He needed to look out for his stubborn twin after all – Elladan wasn't the only one who could behave over-protectively.   
  
"Yes," his brother mumbled. "He described them well enough. At one point or another, they were here. But I don't know if we can assume that they … are … were…" Elladan frowned, obviously trying to remember what he had wanted to say. "If they … what was it we were talking about?"   
  
Elrohir glanced at his twin at his side, worry plain to see on his features. He peered intently into Elladan's face, squinting slightly and cursing both his pounding head and the darkness of their cell. There was pain in his twin's eyes, yes, and worry and fear and guilt as well, but there was also something else, a … glazed, overly confused look that he didn't like at all.   
  
"About the fact that you need to rest," he suggested gently. "You will need your strength, brother. Sleep a little; I will keep watch."   
  
Elladan's frown deepened and he fumbled for words, appearing to get more confused by the second. The frown on his face deepened as he tried to come up with a reason to object to his brother's plan, but it became harder and harder to think. The pain in his body and especially his back began to take over his mind, and his thoughts felt as if they were stuck in quick-sand. He vainly fought against a sudden wave of heat that swept through his body and threatened to tear his increasingly fragile connection to reality asunder, and finally nodded reluctantly.   
  
"Alright," he mumbled, looking at his twin with bleary eyes. He didn't resist when Elrohir gently moved next to him and pulled him closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder.   
  
"It will all be alright, _gwanur nín_," Elrohir whispered softly to his brother, the worry in his eyes fading and being replaced with mounting fear. "You'll see, we'll be out of here in no time, will find that troublesome princeling and our equally troublesome brother and will get back home to father as quickly as we can. Just imagine, we will be able to listen to _ada _lecturing Glorfindel for a change! That will make him so happy, won't it? He rarely gets the chance, since it's usually Glorfindel's turn to lecture him on the foolishness, recklessness and the general inappropriateness of his recent behaviour. Do you remember that lecture he gave _ada _when we got back home last autumn, after that business with Cornallar, Donyc and his men?"   
  
Elladan nodded against the younger twin's shoulder, his skin beginning to feel hotter by the second. Elrohir growled inwardly. He would kill these men; hadn't they done enough? Why did they have to poison his brother? He forced himself to return to the present, continuing his soft soliloquy for his Elladan's sake. He knew that his twin was right, that their chances of escape were slim and that it was very well possible that both Aragorn and Legolas were already dead, but Elladan also needed all the rest he could get, and agonising about things that neither of them could change would not help him in the slightest.   
  
"'Twas truly a sight to behold, was it not?" he went on, becoming increasingly anxious about his brother's unusually accommodating and obedient behaviour, not to mention his rising temperature, of course. "Can you still remember it, Elladan? The way they stood there on the steps leading to the main house when we arrived, Erestor and Glorfindel and all the other – like icy, disapproving statures! And then, after Erestor had all but broken down in front of _ada _and had begged him for forgiveness for letting the three of us go after him, the lecture Glorfindel gave him."   
  
He smiled slightly, caught up in the memory.   
  
"_'Elrond Peredhil, I always knew you were your parents' son, but this time you truly outdid yourself! What in the name of all the Valar were you thinking, my lord? Do you know how I felt when I returned from Lórien to find this place in chaos? Do you? You didn't even take an escort with you, in Manwë's name! This is hardly the behaviour befitting an elf lord of your status! You cannot simply ride out **without an escort **and expect me to sit down and relax! You could have been seriously injured! You could have been **killed**, and I would have had to tell your parents-in-law! Honestly, Elrond, I really thought you had more sense than that! If you ever do something like this again and do not take me with you, I will personally make sure that…'_"   
  
Elrohir's smile widened for a moment as he savoured the memory. It had been very satisfactory to hear Glorfindel lecture his father thus, and the look of reluctant acceptance on his father's face had been even more enjoyable…   
  
He leaned back against the cold stone wall and took a shallow breath that was enough to renew the ache in his ribcage. He needed to give his brother only a look to ascertain that he had lost consciousness, something that was probably for the best, too. He wouldn't be able to bear seeing his brother in pain, no matter how much Elladan insisted to be "fine". He knew that he was anything but "fine", and the fact that his twin was beginning to feel ever warmer and was beginning to shiver more strongly was doing nothing to put his mind at ease.   
  
Elladan's condition didn't change in the next few hours; it only became worse if anything. His temperature kept mounting, and Elrohir realised that it might have been a mistake to allow his brother to go sleep. He himself was having more and more trouble clinging to consciousness, and when he had just come to the conclusion that his uncertain hold on reality would hardly last longer than five minutes now, he heard the sound of a key that was turned in the lock of their door, closely followed by the slight screeching of the door hinges as the wooden door was opened.   
  
The – in his eyes – unbearably bright light that filtered into the small cell seemed even brighter once the door closed again and was almost enough to make him lose the fight against the darkness that had been creeping up on him over the past few hours. His eyes that had closed on their own account needed some convincing before they agreed to open again, however reluctantly.   
  
For a moment though, Elrohir thought that he _had _in fact lost consciousness and was dreaming now, because in front of the once again closed cell door stood a young human female with brown hair that looked more annoyed than anything else by his wide-eyed stare. Elrohir squinted and carefully closed and opened his eyes, but the sight remained just the same: A brown haired girl in a grey-black uniform and a dark cloak, holding a small lamp and wearing an exasperated, impatient and also fearful expression.   
  
The girl watched him and his unconscious brother for a moment before she slowly took a step closer to them, a tentative smile on her lips.   
"I take it you wouldn't believe me if I said that I am here to help you?"   
  
Elrohir regarded her with the same expression he would have shown a person who had just asked him whether he believed Sauron to be a friendly kind of person.   
"No?"   
  
Amusement mixed with the annoyance and fear on the young woman's face, and she knelt down in front of the two elven twins who were sitting with their backs to the wall, setting down the small lamp in the process. She reached into a pocket of her grey skirt, apparently searching for something. A moment later her fingers closed around a small object and she withdrew her hand, a sliver of metallic silver gleaming in the lamplight as it came free of the grey material of the girl's clothing. Elrohir instinctively recoiled, his arm with which he cradled his unconscious and now definitely feverish twin tightening around Elladan's still form.   
  
The girl merely sighed, mumbled something about irritating elves and slowly and carefully held out her hand, palm-up and displaying a small object no bigger than one inch or an inch and a half in diameter. Elrohir stared at the small item, his eyes getting so round that a part of him feared his eyeballs may come loose and drop into his lap. A second later his free hand shot out, grasping the silver object and bringing it closer to his face, disbelief and anger on his emanating from him when he had made sure that his pounding head wasn't playing tricks on him.   
  
"Where did you get this?" the younger twin hissed a second later, raising his eyes and spearing the girl with the _look_. "Speak! Where – did – you – get – this?"   
  
Ethoani shook her head, inwardly wondering just why she was doing this. From what she had seen, elves were quite mad creatures, and hadn't they been what Girion wanted, she would have taken great care not to come too close to one of them. Girion did want them, however, and that was, as she had told Lasseg before, more than enough for her to make sure that he didn't get to keep them. She knew that their options were few and their operations no more than small nuisances to their "lord", but she was willing to do whatever she could. One day Girion would fall, and she would be there when someone ripped his black heart out of his chest.   
  
"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean," she retorted, getting back to her feet. "It was given to me by a friend of yours. An elf, blond hair, blue eyes? His companion's name is Strider, a man not much older than I am, with dark hair. The elf said you would recognise it and realise that I was sent here to free you. I do not have time to quarrel with you like I did with him."   
  
Elrohir only gazed steadily at the young woman, trying to think as quickly as he could. Was it true? Was this some sort of trick? What if she was spoke the truth? His gaze returned to the small silver, leaf-shaped brooch he held. The letters engraved on it formed the word Elrondion, son of Elrond, but even if there hadn't been enough light to read them Elrohir would have recognised the small piece of jewellery everywhere. He knew that brooch, Elladan and he owned the same, after all. Their father had given them to each of them the first Winter Solstice after Estel's twentieth birthday, after his human brother had learnt of his true identity and heritage. It had been his father's way of letting all of them know that, no matter of what race they were or where fate would take them, they would always remain his sons, and that nothing would be able to change that. The younger twin swallowed quickly. There was no way Estel would have given this brooch up voluntarily, unless he absolutely had to or hadn't been able to prevent it.   
  
"I need your answer now, Master Elf," the girl went on, her eyes wandering nervously over the small cell. "Are you going to trust me or not? We are running out of time! You are either coming with me now or I will go and see if your companions are more reasonable than you. I wanted to come back and get them too, but if you want to remain here, I can leave now."   
  
Elrohir didn't answer immediately but rather stared at the young woman. There were a thousand things he wanted to ask her, from how she had known they would be here to who she was and how Aragorn and Legolas were, but he realised that these were questions whose answers would take too much time. He realised that this was the best chance any of them had to get out of these dungeons, but still, this girl was from this town, this much was sure. He didn't trust anyone who was from this town.   
  
"They are alive? And free?" he finally asked. The girl simply nodded her head in a slightly exasperated gesture, causing the younger twin to give a sigh of relief. Praised be Ilúvatar's grace… Elrohir opened his eyes he hadn't realised he had closed and gave the increasingly nervous-looking woman a hard look. "The elf who gave you this, he is of the reasonable, accommodating kind, isn't he?"   
  
The young woman raised her eyebrows and smiled wryly.   
"Not exactly, no. He is stubborn, arrogant, over-protective of the ranger and does not know the meaning of the word "obedience" if you ask me."   
  
"That's him alright," Elrohir nodded and climbed to his feet, pulling Elladan up as well and slinging one arm around his twin's waist to keep him upright.   
  
The girl appeared amused for a moment but apparently decided not to comment on the elf's behaviour and nodded into the unconscious twin's direction.   
"Glamir?"   
  
Elrohir's eyes narrowed and he gave a curt nod, his gaze returning to his brother. Ethoani nodded again and turned back to the door, reaching out for the key she had left in the lock.   
"Then we have to hurry. That potion can be deadly, and while I don't know how dangerous it is to elves, I have the feeling that you wouldn't like to wait and find out."   
  
That was something Elrohir did agree with, and so he pushed down his mounting panic for his twin and carefully took a step forward, and, when his head didn't appear to explode as he had feared it would, another and another until he was standing next to the young woman. The fact that Elladan wasn't as heavy as he had first feared emboldened him considerably, and so he managed to step out of the cell as soon as the door swung open. He stopped almost immediately again as he nearly stumbled over the crumpled bodies of the two guards that had been standing watch next to the door.   
  
Behind him, the girl cursed silently and bent down to drag the two guards into the cell, grumbling under her breath. It took her quite a long time to move the lifeless bodies into the small room, along with a small, earthen mug and two cups. After some minutes she stepped out of the cell, quickly locked the door and began to walk down the corridor, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. Elrohir blinked at her retreating back and finally began to follow, managing to catch up after a few seconds.   
  
"Did you do this?" he gasped out, finding that Elladan was a lot heavier than he had first thought after all. "Are they dead?"   
  
"Yes. They shouldn't have trusted anyone who brings them something to drink, especially not when they do it with a smile and gentle words," Ethoani nodded, casting yet another look over her shoulder. This was too easy, she thought panicky; far too easy. There were almost too few guards here, and to avoid the patrols had been too easy as well. If she didn't know better, one could say that they … wanted them to escape. She frowned. That was impossible, wasn't it?   
  
Next to her, Elrohir gasped again, but this time in shock and outrage.   
"But why!? You could have just drugged them! There was no need to…"   
  
"Yes, there was," Ethoani shook her head impatiently. "The fewer guards there are around here, the better off we'll all be. Besides, I actually did them a favour. Girion would have had them killed as soon as your escape was discovered anyway, and believe me when I say that this death was cleaner and quicker than anything that would have awaited them."   
  
Elrohir wanted to retort something, to tell this woman that she was wrong, but admitted to himself that she was right. These two men had been dead the moment Legolas had somehow managed to convince this woman to try and rescue them, and to criticise her for the methods she had chosen would not only be wrong but also foolish. He swallowed the sharp words that were on the tip of his tongue and kept following her, all his strength and thoughts concentrated on not stumbling or letting his brother fall. This potion was potentially lethal to humans, wasn't it? What if it worked like that on elves as well, what if…   
  
He was brought out of his worried thoughts when he nearly ran into the girl who had abruptly stopped, her head cocked to the side. Before he could gather enough breath to ask her why she had stopped she looked back at him, eyes large and afraid in her face.   
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.   
  
Elrohir frowned heavily, but then he realised what their mysterious guide had meant: Even over the sound of his own, overly loud heartbeat that echoed in his ears he could hear the small, shuffling sounds of booted feet, followed by what sounded like the small rattling sound, as if a scabbard had scraped over stone. The younger twin blinked tiredly, his exhausted, pain-filled brain needing a few extra seconds to realise what that meant: They were not alone. They probably hadn't been alone from the very beginning.   
  
"I knew it!" the girl hissed and grabbed Elrohir's arm, pulling him forward without any concerns for the dark haired elf's injuries or the fact that he nearly dropped his feverish twin. "This was too easy from the very beginning!"   
  
She kept pulling the two of them forward, looking at the elf with wide eyes who returned the stare just as shocked. The sounds behind them became even louder, and with a calm detachment that could only be attributed to his apparently rather serious head wound Elrohir realised that they were surrounded. Small sounds could even be heard from in front of them, even though they were still faint, meaning that the men were still a bit away, but other than that all other ways out of this cleverly laid trap appeared to be blocked.   
  
He was still thinking about what he could possible say or do to convince this obviously rather mad girl to release his arm when the same stopped in front of a large tapestry, jerking it aside with a panicky, barely controlled movement to reveal an opening in the stone wall and a door at its far end. She started fiddling with the large ring of keys that rattled loudly every time she touched one of the metal keys, her movements becoming more urgent by the second. Finally she seemed to find the key she was looking for and all but thrust it into the lock, turning it frantically and breathing a loud sigh of relief when the door swung soundlessly open.   
  
She turned to the dark haired elf who was holding his brother upright and was staring at her with wide, somewhat glazed eyes and grabbed his arm again, pushing him and the elf he steadied into the direction of the door.   
  
"Go," she told him urgently, intently listening to the sounds of the men that were drawing closer. They didn't know where exactly they were, but that would change soon enough. Girion had most likely not trusted his men with the locations of the secret passages so that the guards wouldn't know where to look for the escaped prisoners, but the dungeons weren't too big. They would find them in a matter of minutes, no matter what she did.   
  
"Go now," she repeated, pushing the small lamp into the elf's hands. "Follow this tunnel to its end and knock on the door you will find there, three times, then two, then three again. Two men will be waiting for you and will take you to your friends. Tell the elf that I am sorry that I couldn't save his childhood friend. He'll just have to make due with the two of you."   
  
That was enough to snap Elrohir out of his pain-filled stupor. He had no idea what was going on here, but he knew that he didn't like the sound of this at all.   
"What are you talking about?" he whispered fiercely, trying to hold on to Elladan and not to allow himself to be shoved deeper into the passage that loomed in front of him. "What is the meaning of this?"   
  
"The meaning of this, Master Elf," the girl whispered back, a small, frighteningly calm smile on her face, "is that you need to get away from here, now. I will try to distract them as long as I can, but I'll guess they'll follow you eventually, so I would hurry up a little if I were you."   
  
"But…"   
  
"They'll be here in a minute," she went on, cutting off the elf's voice sharply. "In the shape you two are in, we cannot hope to outrun them unless they are distracted for a while. You are more important than me by far, and Girion must not have you. I would have liked to save your two companions as well, but it appears it wasn't meant to be."   
  
Ethoani swallowed, listening to the guards who were drawing ever closer. She pushed the elf forward, over the threshold of the heavy wooden door, and reached for its handle, prepared to close it into the dark haired being's face.   
"Please go. It is what I want, Master Elf. Tell my brother to evacuate the houses and not to come for me, under no circumstances."   
  
Elrohir merely stared at her, his exhausted, pain-wrecked head not really comprehending what this girl was talking about, and so she took a small step forward, her eyes boring into the elf's.   
"Remember that! He must not try to save me; it is too late already and would be far too late then. It has been too late for a long time now." Her hand tightened on the wood of the door as she gave the elf a last look. "I am sorry. Tell him that as well."   
  
Without waiting for Elrohir to answer she closed the door, the sound of the key turning in the lock following only seconds later. The dark haired elf thought he could hear the heavy fabric fall into place as the girl stepped out of the niche in the wall, but soon all sounds of the young woman's footsteps were drowned out by shouts from the men who had trailed them, shouts that grew louder and louder by the second.   
  
Elrohir shook his aching head slightly, deciding that there was nothing he could do for her now. Even if he hadn't felt as wretched as he did he wouldn't have been able to stop the girl, burdened with Elladan's unconscious body as he was. She was beyond his aid now, as were Celylith and Glorfindel; his brother, however, was not.   
  
The dark haired elven twin clenched his teeth and grabbed the small lamp that had been thrust at him with his left hand, balancing it precariously while he tried to take a firmer hold on Elladan. After a moment he took a hesitant step forward and then the next as he began to walk down the dark tunnel, soon leaving the guards' agitated shouts far behind.  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_gwanur nín - my (twin) brother  
ada - father (daddy)  
  
  
  
  
_**I am beginning to think that suicidal tendencies might have begun to manifest themselves in a large percentage of my characters. *shrugs* Must be the contact with Legolas and Aragorn, I really have no other explanation... *g* So, as I said in the A/N, the next chapter will probably be here in about ten days, plus/minus two. *readers who've been with us for some time raise incredulous eyebrows* Okay, okay, make that _plus_ two days... Anyway, I'll try to post as quickly as possible, I promise. This time, reviews will most definitely make a difference, so: Review, please! *g*  
  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
Once again: I am sorry for not replying to your wonderful reviews! Under normal circumstances, if I had to choose between you guys and university, you'd win every time, but today the fear of a possibly very humiliating performance on my part next week outweights almost everything else. I promise to reply to the next round, and hope you're not too cross! *apologetic smile*  
  
  
Just to answer a few questions I would undoubtedly have forgotten in ten days:  
  
Littleadryan - **Yes, Aragorn was indeed 88 years old in LOTR. Normal men live in ME just as long as in the real world, but those of Númenórean descent (meaning they have elvish blood) live considerably longer, more than twice as long.  
**Alasse_Tiwele - **I am not planning a story about how they met at the moment, sorry. To be honest I haven't really given that much thought, even though I do not follow C&S' universe, so all I can tell you is that they met differently. But one of these days I will probably write it, don't worry. It just might take some time...  
**Elenora1** - You are right of course, and the reason why Legolas seemed relatively "uninjured" was more or less that I didn't have anyone who could mother him. The humans don't really care and Aragorn is still unconscious. I hope that it will become a little clearer in this chapter, and he is most definitely not 'fine'! *g*  
**Miaow Artsy** - No, it's not intentional that the recent chapters contained less humour than the previous ones, but you have to admit that there isn't much one could consider funny at the moment. Besides, you always need someone to appreciate the joke, and it doesn't work if that someone is unconscious etc. *g*  
**Narina Nightfall** - I don't really know, but I guess the story will be about 32 chapter. No more, perhaps even less. I really hope to wrap it all up by chapter 30, but I doubt it somehow.   
**Jack** - You didn't really ask a question, but I had to tell you that I loved your little sentence. Especially the spelling, very nice. *g* Great you approve (well, that's something we knew all along, didn't we?), and after our dreadful exams the story should get _really_ interesting for you! *evil grin*  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - Once again, no real questions, but I wanted to thank you for your countless reviews. I don't have time to reply to all of them, I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed all of them! Thanks!!  
**Iverson** - Of course you can found a Save Cendan Club (or SCC) if you want to! I don't think it exists yet... And I'll get the grades for my paper on Tuesday, wish me luck! *g*  
**CrazyLOTRfan - **If you want a good online-dictionary, go to http : // dict. leo. org. (I write it like that so that it won't disappear. Stupid FF.net *grr*) It's the best German-English dictionary I've been able to find, I use it all the time myself! Even though I have to admit that the translation of 'elf' is still wrong... *g*   
**Nedi** - No princeling torture coming up for a while, sorry. I don't believe in excessive violence or torture (Stop laughing! *g*), so there won't be any Legolas torture for a while. No, there won't be any, 'cause battle wounds don't count in my opinion. *g*  
**ThE iNsAnE oNe** - And again, no real questions to answer, but I had to thank you for your huge review! I especially liked you a-z reasons for disappearing for so long, my personal favourite is currently f., closely followed by q. and t. *g* I am very glad to hear that your problems are ... well, abating a little. *huggles*  
  
**Alright, that's it. I apologise to all those to whose reviews I couldn't reply, but I guess you prefer getting the chapter now without replies than in two or three days with them, right? *****smiles* I really hope so...**


	26. The Elf, the Guards And the Ox

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Alright, alright, so it was _plus_ two days. I am sorry about that, but at least I am not too late yet. That's something, right? *looks into readers impatient, unforgiving faces* Well, apparently not... *g*  
I am sorry about not posting sooner, but the summer term has just started here (Yeah, I know, it's definitely not summer yet, but people here don't care about things like that) and everything is quite hectic at the moment. The exams are over at least and went rather well, too, so there's only one other evil college paper from hell and I'll be fine - for the next month. *dark smile*  
  
I also have to admit that the Glorfindel torture that has so adamantly been demanded by a disturbing number of people will be here, but in ch. 28 at the earliest. I am sorry about that, but I just wasn't in the mood for it, plus I couldn't find a place to fit it in. So, only two more chapters to go! (*shoots nervous looks at Sabercrazy and several other people*)  
  
And now for something completely different ... oh, yes, the length of this whole bloody thing. Well, let's just say that, if everything goes according to plan (which it never does) and if I can convince the characters to shut up (which I never can), I should have wrapped up everything by ch. 32. I doubt I will write more, and am fully prepared to write 35-pages-chapters if I have to. *g*  
  
  
Okay, yes, I'll shut up now. Those of you who wanted to see the sweet little ox again will be very happy (which shouldn't be much of a surprise considering the title anyway *g*) - contrary to the guards, who aren't happy at all. Other than that, we also have a little bit more of Glorfindel and Celylith (always remember, Zam, he's STILL ALIVE, that's what matters *evil grin*) and yes, Aragorn wakes up. About time, too.  
  
Have fun and review, please!  
  
  
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Chapter 26  
  
  
After no more than five minutes of walking down the dark, damp passage Elrohir was beginning to doubt his own sanity.   
  
It must finally have happened, he reasoned darkly as he tightened his hold on his unconscious brother and tried not to drop the small lamp that was the only source of light in this depressing darkness. He must finally have snapped and lost the last remnants of reason and sanity that had managed to survive two brothers and a sister – which hadn't been many to begin with.   
  
What in the name of the Valar had he been thinking, he asked himself for the umpteenth time. He had left a human woman behind to be captured, he had left a child to certain death! The fact that she had all but forced him to go was of no consequence; he should never have complied with her wishes!   
  
He stopped for a moment, all but ready to turn around and walk back the way he had come. Why did Legolas have to send someone who was obviously suicidal? The girl had not even blinked when she had shut the door in his face, she must have been either mad or very tired of living!   
  
Elrohir clenched his teeth and resumed his walk, dragging his twin with him. There were only two reasons why he didn't turn back now, no matter the consequences – two reasons why he had left in the first place. One was that, deep in his heart, he knew it would be futile. There was no way he could help the girl now, just as there had been no way he could have helped her even if she hadn't pushed him in here and locked the door behind him. They had been outnumbered, and he very much doubted that he would have been able to fight off all the guards that had been trailing them even at full strength, with only a rather small human female to watch his back. No, to go back now would only mean to belittle the girl's sacrifice, however ill-advised it might have been.   
  
The second reason was once again close to slipping out of his grasp. Elrohir shook his head, ignoring the wave of pain and nausea that welled up inside of him at that simple movement, his eyes darting to his brother's pale face. Had it been only his life at stake, he might stayed and not let himself be shoved into this charming tunnel. But it wasn't only his life at stake, and he wouldn't risk his twin's in such a manner. Elladan needed him, he needed him to be strong and do the reasonable thing, and he would _not _fail his brother.   
  
With a stubborn nod of his head Elrohir trudged on, busying himself with calculations of how many hundred tons of earth and stone must be pressing down on the walls of the tunnel at the moment. That train of thought, however, did nothing to set his already very troubled mind at ease, and he quickly concentrated on something else, namely on counting his steps.   
  
Just when he was convinced that this accursed tunnel would never end, it began to slope upwards, something that could only meant that they were nearing the end. A sudden burst of hope flamed to life inside his chest, but the grin that was beginning to spread on his face faded as abruptly as it had appeared when he heard something behind him, something he had been dreading all the time, but expecting nonetheless.   
  
Hadn't he needed to keep Elladan upright, he would have whirled around. No, he thought panicky, there was no doubt about it: That had been the sound of footsteps behind him – footsteps that weren't very far away. His hearing seemed to have suffered significantly from the rather violent blow to his head, but if he wasn't very much mistaken, someone was following him – and catching up quickly.   
  
With a blood-curling curse that would even have caused his elven brother to blanch he continued his stumbling walk, trying to pick up the pace as best as possible. When he had just counted step eight hundred and fifty-six, he stopped abruptly in order not to run straight into the door that suddenly barred his way. For a moment, he simply stared at the door, asking himself where in the name of the One it had suddenly appeared from, when the soft sounds behind him brought him back to reality as quickly as a bucket of ice-cold water. He hadn't left a child to her death and walked this horrible, dark tunnel only to be caught now!   
  
He shortly contemplated how he should get rid of the lamp and finally chose the easiest way: To let it drop to the floor. He would have liked to keep the small lamp, he thought as it crashed to the stone floor and went out immediately, but he really didn't think he had the strength to straighten up again should he bend down. He didn't wait for his eyes to get used to the darkness and quickly raised his now free hand to knock. It took him another, frightening second to remember what the girl had told him, but then he knocked three times, then two, and three again.   
  
For long moments, nothing happened. Elrohir was just raising his hand for the second time, inwardly debating if this hadn't been some kind of sick joke after all, something that would have been just the kind of thing Girion would find amusing, when the sound of a turning key could be heard. He was still lowering his hand when the door was thrown open without as much as a creaking sound.   
  
Elrohir's eyes quickly adapted to the light of two lamps that poured into the tunnel, lamps which were being held by two men who were standing in the doorway, looking at him and his brother with wide eyes. One of them, tall and with grey hair, seemed to get a grip on himself more quickly than his companion, and he opened the door wider, making as much room as possible for the two elves.   
  
"Hurry," he told Elrohir who was stumbling over the threshold. "There are more guards on the streets this night than there are stars in the sky."   
  
His companion didn't seem to care much about the number of celestial bodies and merely stared at the twins, his forehead marred by a frown and the corners of his mouth quivering in what could only be called severe disapproval.   
"Another elf?" he asked sharply before his eyes travelled to Elladan's unconscious figure. "Two elves? Sero, you never said that there were elves involved! What was that girl thinking?! She must be insane!"   
  
For some reason, this was enough to cause Elrohir's temper to flare up.   
"If you ask me, this whole Valar-forsaken city is insane! And now help me out of this cursed tunnel before Girion's guards join this happy little meeting, in Elbereth's name!"   
  
The not very tall, but thickly muscled man glowered at him and was about to say something when he was cut off by Sero, who grabbed Elrohir's arm and helped him manoeuvre his brother through the open door.   
"Guards? What guards? And where is Ethoani? Where are the other elves?" When he noticed the elf's blank look, he added impatiently, "The woman who brought you here? Where is she?"   
  
"They … are not coming," Elrohir answered, trying to ignore the way the grey spots in front of him began to fill all of his vision. "She stayed behind to give us a chance to escape."   
  
The man his companion had called Sero froze for a second, his hand that was holding one of the small lamps trembling slightly. Then he took a deep breath and nodded slowly, his eyes hard and cold in his bearded face.   
"I see." Even the other man had fallen silent as Sero quickly closed the door and locked it again, turning back to the elves once he had returned the large, metal key to a pouch on his belt. "There are guards behind you, you say?"   
  
"Aye," Elrohir nodded darkly. "Still a few minutes away though."   
  
"Then they'll have reinforcements here in a matter of moments," Sero nodded as well, a calmness appearing in his eyes that Elrohir had seen many times in many men's eyes just before battle. "It won't have taken them too long to find out where this tunnel ends. We'd better get away from here, and fast."   
  
Elrohir decided that that was the most appealing suggestion he had heard in a long time and was about to nod when Sero's companion tugged at his shirt in an obvious request for him to release his brother's unconscious body. The younger twin automatically tightened his hold on his brother, something that was only commented by two exasperated headshakes. These humans thought him apparently just as annoying as he them.   
  
"Be reasonable, Master Elf," Sero begged him. "We are running out of time! You cannot carry him any further, and we need to go now! Let my companion carry him or we will all be caught and Ethoani's actions will have been in vain."   
  
Elrohir hadn't even completed the hesitant nod he was about to give the grey haired man when the other man hurried forward, all but wrenched Elladan out of his grasp, threw a long, dark cloak over the elf's shoulders and dragged him into the direction of the room's exit. Before Elrohir's befuddled brain could really comprehend what was going on, another, almost identical cloak had been wrapped around him and he was firmly being shoved after his brother through what appeared to be a dusty, abandoned shop. The dark haired elf had just enough time to note that there was an amazing amount of broken pottery, wood, rags and other garbage covering the floor before he was pulled to a stop in front of the door.   
  
Sero let go of his arm, gave him a rather concerned look as if to make sure that the elf wouldn't collapse on the spot (something that Elrohir merely answered with a dark glare) and opened the old, rather ill-fitting door which opened with a loud, shrieking noise. The man gave the street outside only the most cursory glance, something that Elrohir completely understood when the first blows on the locked door at their back could be heard. The door rattled loudly, the wood trembling under the force of the blows, and Elrohir realised that they were out of time.   
  
He wasn't the only person who had just come to that conclusion, it appeared, for Sero's head swivelled around, panic clear to see in his eyes before it was quickly suppressed. Only a second later he had pushed his companion who was half-carrying and half-dragging Elladan with him out of the door and grabbed Elrohir's arm again, pulling him with him.   
  
They hadn't done more than ten steps – Elrohir still wondering since when exactly he had a sign on his back saying "Please drag and order me around, I am merely a stupid elf" – when a sharp voice could be heard behind them.   
"Hey! You! Stop right there!"   
  
When they showed no sign of intending to obey the man's words, another, louder shout for reinforcements could be heard, and when Elrohir was pulled around a corner a few moments later and managed to cast a look back over his shoulder, he almost froze in sudden panic at the sight in front of him.   
  
There were at least ten men following them, and some were already beginning to load their crossbows as well as they could while running. More were beginning to pour out of the house they had just left, and with all this racket these men were making Elrohir suspected that the rest of this city's guards would soon join this merry little chase. He felt how his mouth went dry and his heart leaped into his throat. There was no way they would be able to escape them, not with Elladan and, if he was completely honest, himself slowing them down.   
  
He was roughly pulled around the corner into a small side-street that seemed to end in a large plaza just a few yards ahead of them, and while he tried to keep up with the running men, he turned to Sero, looking at him with wide, serious grey eyes.   
"Leave me," he told the grey haired man in between gasps for breath. "Leave me behind and get my brother to safety. Maybe I can keep them occupied long enough for you to escape."   
  
Sero didn't even look at him but merely snorted derisively, his eyes darting back over his shoulder in search for their loudly yelling pursuers.   
"I'll be damned if I do!" he snapped impatiently. "I was ordered to get you to safety, elf, and that's exactly what I'm going to do!"   
  
"Master Human," Elrohir gasped, noticing that they were only a few feet away from what looked like a large marketplace now, "Please, there is…"   
  
"No," the man shook his head and tightened his grip on the elf's arm. "I've lost one of my people already, a girl I have known for most of her life, and I will _not _allow her sacrifice to be in vain! You are coming, if you want to or not."   
  
Elrohir was still trying to figure out why lately every other human seemed to assume that he was a mindless object when they entered the marketplace at a run, catching up with the other human who was carrying Elladan without showing any signs of exhaustion. A part of him noted approvingly that the man had to be much stronger than he had given him credit for at first, but the greater part stared wide-eyed at the small, snow-covered fountain in the middle of the plaza, and he realised, rather late, that he knew this place.   
  
This was the place they had crossed when they had been riding up to the castle – had it really only been yesterday afternoon? To him it appeared like several lifetimes at least. But this definitely was the place, Elrohir nodded inwardly as he followed Sero over the snow-covered marketplace, who had still not let go of his arm, probably fearing that he might still do what he had said earlier.   
  
His eyes wandered searchingly over the plaza, and when they came to rest on the large cage close to the fountain that was now partly covered with blankets to ward off the wind's chill, the half-formed plan that had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since he had realised where they were suddenly unfolded completely in his head.   
  
He stopped as if his feet had frozen to the ground, causing Sero to skid to a halt as well. The grey haired man glared at him, barely suppressing his anger and annoyance as he yanked at the elf's arm, trying to get him to start moving again.   
"I said no, elf! I am not leaving you behind! Great Ones, are all of you this stubborn!? And I thought that blond one was being difficult!"   
  
Elrohir didn't pay the man any attention and turned to the right, beginning to hurry over to the fountain and dragging the other with him since he refused to let go of his arm. The sounds of the following guards grew louder, and the dark haired elf realised that they were only fifteen, perhaps twenty seconds behind him. The fear that raged inside of him helped to push back the ever-growing pain in his head, and he whirled around to Sero, stretching out a hand.   
  
"Give me your dagger. Now!"   
  
The man was about to argue, but apparently thought better of if once he looked into the elf's face. It was unnaturally calm and composed, and for a moment all the pain that the dark haired being had been unable to hide all the time was gone, replaced by a strange certainty; not even the smaller bruises on his cheeks and the truly enormous, blood-caked abrasion on his temple could dispel that impression. Sero found himself reaching for his dagger without hesitation, somehow spell-bound by the commanding, demanding look in these grey eyes.   
  
"Here," he said, handing over the dagger. "But what do you want to…"   
  
He trailed off as the elf snatched the weapon out of his hand, turned around and hurried over to the cage in which the huge ox was slowly beginning to wake up. With curious detachment the grey haired man watched the elf while he was stepping closer to the cage, either oblivious to or ignoring the dark growls the beast was emitting as it slowly and menacingly climbed to its feet. It took him another moment to fully comprehend what the elf was doing, but then the realisation hit him like a tidal wave.   
  
"What are you doing?!" he hissed, a part of him noticing that the guards would enter the marketplace in moments. "Are you mad? Do you wish to get us all killed?"   
  
Elrohir didn't answer but concentrated on the crude metal lock, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. The strain and the excitement of the past few hours were catching up with him, and the grey spots had begun to form a barely transparent film that had laid itself over his eyes. He willed his hands to be still and carefully moved the tip of the dagger the tiniest bit to the side, attempting to lift the crude metal bolt inside the construction and push it to the side. He didn't really know much about locks, let alone about lock-picking, since those were skills an elven warrior needed seldom these days. Still, the mechanics were not beyond him, and this lock was even quite a simple one, so it shouldn't be too hard to…   
  
There. With a satisfying click the blade pushed the bolt up and to the side, causing the mechanism to unlock and open. Elrohir grabbed the dagger more tightly and turned back to the man who had helped free his brother and him, eyes dark as the sky above them in the dim light of moon and stars.   
"Get back and prepare to run for your life."   
  
"You _are _mad!" the man exclaimed. "That thing will kill us! It won't hesitate to rip us to pieces!"   
  
"Yes," Elrohir nodded, his dimmed hearing informing him that the first guard had just set foot into the marketplace. He gripped the iron bars of the door and opened it with a sharp yank, grinning darkly at the stupefied man and nodding at the soldiers who were apparently trying to figure out where they'd gone. "But if we're lucky it might also gut our friends over there."   
  
Sero stared at the bloody, bruised face in front of him, wondering if Ethoani had truly realised that she had given her life for a raving lunatic and his half-dead brother, but then all his thoughts were interrupted as the ox in the cage noticed that the door was open. It didn't display any signs of hesitation or doubt and stormed forward, out of the door and into the marketplace. For a moment, Sero really thought that the elf's plan would work and was already taking great satisfaction in watching the guards' paralysed faces who seemed to have frozen on the spot, but then he realised that it had just been a desperate, rather stupid idea.   
  
And that now they were all going to pay for it.   
  
In the exact same moment the thought had fully developed in his mind, the ox seemed to have made up its mind about who was to blame for its incarceration: The nearest person available, who just happened to be Sero. The man ground out a vicious curse as he dove to the side and barely avoided slamming into the fountain in the process. He did have some experience with these beasts after all, as about everyone around these parts who had left the city more than once did. This ox was quite a small specimen actually, even thought Sero had to admit to himself that it was probably the wildest and most ill-tempered one he had ever seen – and he had seen quite a lot, most of the time involuntarily.   
  
He shook his head quickly and scrambled back to his feet, noticing that there was exactly one good thing, namely that the guards were still at the far end of the plaza, looking as if they would rather volunteer for a suicide mission to steal Glamir's favourite whip than come even one step closer. Not that he could blame them, Sero decided in a split second as he jumped to the side again, narrowly avoiding one of the animal's curved horns. He hadn't chosen to be here either; there was only one person responsible for him being here, actually: The elf.   
  
His head swivelled around to the being in question, just in time to see the ox raise its shaggy head and fix its small, furious, squinty eyes on the elf who stared back at it emotionlessly. For a few moments Sero believed that the beast would truly leave the elf alone – he would have done so had he been the animal and had the elf been looking at him like that – but then it became once again clear why these animals were so feared by all who knew of their existence: As soon as they had identified you as a threat, they didn't stop. They never stopped until either you or they were dead. And, right now, Sero thought wryly, it was rather obvious which of the two options the ox would prefer.   
  
He wasn't alone in that opinion for Elrohir had just come to the same conclusion, and all the elf could do to avoid being gutted was to throw himself to the side, jarring his entire body as he connected with the cold, hard, snow-covered ground and sending spikes of pain up and down his body that threatened to send him into unconsciousness. The young elf dimly heard the warning the man screamed in a hoarse voice somewhere to his left, and he slowly and painfully propped himself up on one elbow and lifted his throbbing head, only to wish he hadn't half a second later.   
  
Elrohir stared with wide eyes at the huge, furry beast that was galloping into his direction, having apparently wheeled around and decided to try and impale him for a second time – a rather interesting way to show its gratitude to him for freeing it, he thought detachedly. The thought that he would kill Celylith the next time he saw him for considering this thing "adorable" and "cute" flashed through his mind, closely followed by the thought that there was really no time to get out of the way.   
  
A moment later, the ox that must have been an oliphaunt in disguise was right in front of him and thrust down its head with the very clear intention of impaling him on its horns – and took great care to trample him as much as possible in the process. Elrohir barely bit back a mixture between a cry and a curse as the ox placed most of its weight on his lower body and frantically reached for the dagger he had unfortunately dropped some time ago, inwardly deciding that he would not only kill Celylith, he would kill him as slowly and painfully as possible. The Silvan elf didn't really have anything to do with his current situation, but someone other than this stupid animal would have to pay for this.   
  
The ox wasn't very impressed by the dark haired elf's attempts to reach the knife and merely butted its huge, very, very massive head against Elrohir's shoulder, leaving him nearly paralysed and with the distinct impression that every bone in his upper arm had just been shattered. The animal seized his moment of distraction to give him an evil look and thrust its head down again, giving Elrohir only the chance of choosing between having the horns imbedded in his gut or in his hip.   
  
He did of course chose the latter by twisting his body to the side as far as he could, something he regretted only an instant later as one of the animal's curved horns sliced through the flesh of his right thigh, leaving hot, burning agony in its wake. For more than a few moments Elrohir did firmly expect to pass out, but then a small, persistent voice in the back of his head started yelling at him, yelling at him to stay awake and not to pass out. What would happen to Elladan if he did pass out now and this horrible animal gutted him, what would happen to Estel and Legolas and Glorfindel and Celylith? Besides, what would his family and friends say when they heard that he had been killed by an _ox _of all things?   
  
No, Elrohir thought as he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his lower body, beginning to feel for the dagger again. There was absolutely no way he was going to die like this; if there was one manner of death unbefitting an elven warrior, this was it. His hand had just closed around the knife's handle when the ox pulled back, ripping its horn out of the wound in the process, and the pain that washed through him at the movement was almost enough to send him into unconsciousness after all.   
  
With a stubborn shake of his head the elven twin pushed the inviting darkness aside and swung his dagger up, into the direction of the animal's head. The beast had apparently not expected its victim to put up any more resistance, and was therefore more surprised than truly shocked as the dagger's sharp blade cut across its nostrils. The unexpected pain and the blood that gushed from the wound was enough to cause it to take a few steps backwards, but even that wouldn't have been enough to save Elrohir hadn't the guards made one very crucial mistake: To move.   
  
Until now they had remained motionless, not daring to move even a single inch in face of the ox that had so unexpectedly left its cage, but now they surged forward, apparently thinking the elf to be an easy target, pinned beneath the beast as he was at the moment. Elrohir watched with detached curiosity how the ox's head swivelled around and its small, bloodshot eyes fixed on the running men, and he could almost watch how the animal came to the conclusion that they posed a far greater threat than he at the moment.   
  
All of the sudden the weight that was still pressing down on him disappeared, and Elrohir watched from his position on the ground how the ox charged at the men, feeling with lazy disinterest how blood from the deep wound in his upper thigh flowed down his leg and soaked into the snow beneath him. He didn't possess the strength to get to his feet again, and so he remained where he was, watching the spectacle unfold in all its glory.   
  
It was most curious, Elrohir decided after a moment, he had never seen an ox gut a man before. The man currently impaled on the ox's horns didn't seem to enjoy that sensation overly much either, he nodded to himself, noting that the world became darker and fuzzier around the edges. He wasn't really sure how much time had passed since the ox had left him alone in the search for more amusing victims, but three of the about fifteen or twenty guards were already lying on the ground, not one of them moving. The elf watched while the soldiers scattered into all directions to avoid becoming the animal's next victim – not that it did them any good, of course. The ox was far stronger and faster than they, and no matter how quickly the men ran, they were quickly caught up with. The guards had either no experience dealing with such a threat or were simply not prepared for it, and so they were decimated faster than Elrohir had ever thought possible.   
  
While he was still contemplating whether or not the man currently trying to escape the raging animal would be able to outrun it (he would not, as it would turn out a moment later) and has just decided that the plan hadn't been too bad after all, he sensed more than saw movement behind him, and slowly turned his head to the left, sighing wearily. But instead of one of the guards that were still trying to break through to him he laid eyes on Sero who came running up to him, nearly crashing to his knees next to him.   
  
The man's shoulders were shaking, even though he seemed to be uninjured, Elrohir noted dimly, feeling how the darkness that had begun to lay itself over his senses intensified. It took his tired, pain-filled brain another moment to realise that Sero wasn't crying or in pain. He was laughing. Laughing so hard, in fact, that he barely managed to grip Elrohir's shoulder and pull him upright, his eyes remaining fixed on the sight in front of him. Only five or six men were still standing, the elf noted, the rest was either dead, injured or had run away.   
  
Sero stared at the dark haired elf who looked as if he had just had an encounter with an ill-tempered hill troll – or an ill-tempered wild ox. Apart from the freely bleeding wound on his thigh he was deathly pale, and the wound on his temple stood out even more starkly. He gave the soldiers in front of him a quick, openly amused look, realising that they were really going to make it. Every soldier in the city would be far too busy to recapture that ox to be able to look for them. Such an animal, running around freely in the city, was far more dangerous than even an elf could be.   
  
He hauled the elf over his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, scrambling backwards as quickly as he could. The soldiers may be too busy staying alive to follow them now, but that didn't mean that the ox couldn't decide to finish what it'd started.   
  
Sero managed to enter the side street leading into the direction of Laenro's house without getting himself or the elf he carried killed, and stopped for a second, noticing that his companion had done as he'd told him and was already long gone. At that point he hadn't believed they would both escape and had wanted to make sure that at least one of them would get out of this alive, but now it appeared as if they just might. He stopped a second to tighten his grip on the semi-conscious elf he held upright, the mirth once again breaking through his serious countenance. Gods, using an _ox _to eliminate Girion's soldiers! That was something he would have to remember…   
  
"I stand by my word," he told the dark haired being with a wide grin as he began to hurry down the street, listening with one ear to the screams and shouted commands at their back. "You are indeed insane. You may be incredibly lucky, but you are insane."   
  
The last thing Elrohir thought before giving in to the darkness that had been beckoning him for a long time was that the man just might be right about that.   


  
  
Elrohir was insane, Glorfindel decided darkly. So was Elladan, certainly Celylith, and most certainly he himself. That was the only possible explanation for this … disaster they found themselves in at the moment, even though he was willing to admit that, as the eldest in the group by far, he should have know better. He should have known much better.   
  
The golden haired elf lord shook his slightly aching head that was still ringing from a blow that had slammed it against their cell door. He grinned inwardly. He hadn't really done anything to deserve such treatment (at least in his opinion); all he had done was to propose to the man who had been all but dragging him around this dark, dirty and dank dungeon that he take a bath.   
  
It had been a valid proposition – for all Glorfindel knew, that guard had never before heard of the beneficial, not to mention cleansing, properties of soap or even water. That notwithstanding, it had been entirely irrational to slam him against the solid oaken door, something he would have told the man as well – had he been capable of speech at that moment, which had not been the case. He had only regained his senses once they had already been inside this poor excuse for a cell, with a rather anxious-looking Silvan elf leaning over him.   
  
Glorfindel smiled inwardly, trying to concentrate on anything than the present circumstances. Young Celylith seemed to have thought him close to returning to the Halls of Mandos – something Glorfindel was planning to avoid by any means necessary. Well, he admitted to himself, not really by _any _means necessary. If he had to choose between the three young ones and himself, he knew how his choice would be. The news with which he would return to Mirkwood, and, after that, to Rivendell, was already more than bad enough; there was absolutely no way he would add to the news of his total and utter failure the news of the three young ones' deaths.   
  
The blond elf contemplated getting back to his feet and to start pacing again, an idea he only discarded when he considered that it would neither help him nor be what he would call dignified or behaviour befitting an elf lord. All it would do was to make him dizzy – again. He had sat down because of that same reason not too long ago, and he wouldn't want to repeat watching the cell spin around him in tighter and tighter circles.   
  
Glorfindel took his thoughts off his unpleasant surroundings, only to focus automatically on an equally unpleasant topic: His charges. He ground his teeth, trying not to crush them completely. What would Elrond do to him when he heard about this, he wondered darkly. Personally, he decided after a moment, he thought that the half-elf would strangle him. Slowly. Very, very slowly, and after that he would cut him into tiny little pieces and feed him to something huge, hungry and ill-tempered.   
  
If he was lucky, that was.   
  
And the worst thing about all this was that he would deserve it. He deserved everything that happened to him here or – if they should ever get out of this – back at home, and if he had the chance, he would gladly trade his life for the twins', the two Mirkwood elves' and Aragorn's. That was, however, not a chance he would get any time in the near future, he was realistic enough to realise that. Aragorn and Legolas were either captured or apparently on the run, the twins were in a cell to their left, and Celylith was … gone.   
  
That was one of the things that made his blood boil. About two hours ago a couple of amazingly frightened-looking guards had opened the door and dragged the young silver haired elf out of the small space, and there was nothing he had been able to do. The Silvan elf had done a good job hiding his feelings, but the suppressed fear that had been lurking in his midnight-blue eyes had been clear to see for the elf lord.   
  
Glorfindel unclenched his teeth with some effort and began to ball his hands to fists. He had been unable to do anything to help the younger elf, and he didn't need a drawn picture to know that these people hadn't just taken him away to have a cup of tea and a slice of cake with him. Earlier last night they had thought they had heard cries through the thick door that separated their cell from the rest of the dungeons, and even though neither of them had been able to identify whose voice it had been, it had, again, not been too hard to guess.   
  
The elf lord gave up and jumped to his feet, feeling decidedly glad that Elrond was not here to witness his mounting anxiety. Elrond would be delighted to give him his own Things-a-proper-elf-lord-never-does-speech – most probably while he was strangling him. If these humans had hurt one of Elrond's sons or Prince Legolas and his friend, he would make sure they regretted it dearly before he killed them. And kill them he would, he thought darkly as he started pacing up and down the small room. Oh yes, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did…   
  
Twenty minutes later, the walls were beginning to waver back and forth and his temper was beginning to rise so high that Glorfindel was suspecting that his head would soon explode. His thoughts went round and round in tighter and tighter circles, and he was beginning to go out of his mind with worry and fear. These people here were obviously mad, that much was sure, but that wasn't all of it. Had they been only mad, it might have been easier to deal with them – unless they were so deluded that they didn't understand what one was trying to tell them, of course.   
  
No, he thought darkly, wheeling around on his heel and walking back the few paces that separated him from the other wall and ignoring the way his head began to swim once again. This Girion wasn't mad in the sense that he didn't know what he was doing; the man knew exactly what the consequences of his actions would be. After some hours of discussing their … predicament the young Silvan elf and he had come to the conclusion that Girion was somehow connected to the last lord of Dale, which would fit the way he had been talking about the elves never being there when you needed them – and that he understood Sindarin. What he was planning, why he had needed the prince or Estel or how he had managed to get the Easterlings to co-operate with him were still questions to which neither of them had known an answer.   
  
And that wasn't all, he thought and turned around once more, glaring darkly at the walls that surrounded him. There was something going on here, and he had no idea what. Earlier, about an hour ago, just after they had come to get his young companion, there had been a commotion outside, and excited shouts and yells had even filtered through the heavy cell door. He wouldn't ask any of the guards, since he knew that it would be futile and he refused to show that he was interested in anything here in any way, and had therefore no inkling what 'it' could be. The most attractive vision he had been able to come up with was that Girion had choked on his own self-importance and was right now suffocating slowly and painfully – a most attractive, albeit rather unlikely possibility.   
  
Glorfindel suppressed a growl and tried to force himself to calm down, something that was almost impossible. It didn't really matter what Girion wanted, he tried to tell himself. He didn't care why he had done these things, the fact was that he would pay for it. He had killed people for less, he fumed inwardly. No one laid hands on his lord's family and got away with it, no one. Certainly not these … men.   
  
While he was still contemplating what he would do to the insane lord of this equally insane city once he got out of this cell, footsteps were beginning to draw closer, and just when he had turned around into the direction of the door the same opened, allowing bright light to pour into the small, dark space. The expected, but nonetheless shocking brightness momentarily blinded the blond elf, and he was still trying to determine which clusters of grey and white dots were actually people and which were just illusions when something rather heavy slammed into his chest, propelling him backwards a few feet. His vision had still not fully cleared when, after a stupid, snide comment from one of the guards, the cell door slammed shut again, plunging the room in almost complete darkness once more.   
  
The weight that was slumped against his chest and that he had instinctively gripped in order not to let it slide to the floor moved slightly and barely stifled a moan, causing Glorfindel to take an even tighter hold on it. One of the few shafts of light that filtered through the cracks between the doorframe and the door caught on something silvery, and that removed the last doubts from his mind as to whom he was currently holding upright.   
  
"_Pen-neth_?" he asked softly, straining his eyes and willing them to adjust to the darkness once again. "Celylith?"   
  
The younger elf didn't answer for a few moments, and neither did he make a sound when Glorfindel pulled him backwards, into the direction of the wooden cot that was the only piece of furniture in the cell. Only when he was pressed down onto the wobbly pallet he opened his eyes, an almost undetectable hint of humour in their pain-filled depths.   
  
"I am … sorry for this rather … abrupt entry, my lord," Celylith whispered between gritted teeth. "Believe me, it … was … quite unintentional."   
  
"Oh, I do believe you," the elf lord nodded, with a small, forced smile on his lips. "I am willing to let it slip this one time."   
  
"Too … kind of you, my lord," the other gasped and closed his eyes again as he was pressed down onto the cot. "My father would be positively … scandalised if he heard that I had failed to show you the respect you deserve."   
  
That was something Glorfindel was by no means certain about at the moment. The way he saw it, Lord Celythramir wouldn't care in the slightest whether or not his son had insulted him to his heart's desire. All he would care about was the fact that he, the great and mighty Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell, had allowed his only son to get hurt, and to get hurt badly judging by the way the younger elf was hunched over himself.   
  
He shook his head slightly and did not comment on the remark, and merely reached out with a hand and gently tipped the other elf's head from side to the side to inspect what looked like angry-red cuts on both cheeks.   
"What happened, young one?"   
  
To his surprise, a smile spread over Celylith's face, and he opened his eyes again, something like triumph mixing with the pain now.   
"They do not have him."   
  
Glorfindel frowned slightly as he let go of the younger elf's chin and tried to assess any other, possibly hidden injuries.   
"Whom?"   
  
"The prince," the other answered as if that had been the most obvious thing. And who knew, Glorfindel thought a little amusedly, perhaps it was indeed.   
  
Celylith struggled to sit up, his eyes boring into Glorfindel's worried blue ones.   
  
"They do not have him, thank Ilúvatar and all the Valar. They never said it, but it's clear that they hope to hear from me what they wanted to hear from him." He clenched his teeth tightly as he managed to lean back against the cold wall, a stubborn glint appearing in his eyes. "Legolas apparently told them nothing, and neither will I. I will never betray my king or my people, and certainly not to these men."   
  
"I hadn't thought you would," Glorfindel smiled slightly. "What did this?" He asked, his fingers hovering over yet another cut that was visible through a large, jagged hole in the silver haired elf's shirt. "What did they wish to hear?"   
  
"Details about Mirkwood's defences," Celylith answered curtly, involuntarily sucking in a deep breath when the blond elf's fingers pressed down onto a bruised rib. He sat slightly hunched over, almost imperceptibly protecting his right side that was facing away from the other elf. "Battle tactics, the number of our warriors, the locations of the guard-posts, things like that."   
  
"You are avoiding my other question, Celythramirion," Glorfindel chided softly. "What did this? What did they do to you?"   
  
"Not much," the younger elf shook his head in a stubborn gesture. "This was apparently just a … a demonstration, so to speak. Glamir, a small man who seems to be the master torturer here, has a fondness for hot knives it appears, something that, as he puts it, 'is enjoying more and more popularity of late'. He," Celylith interrupted himself and suppressed a small shiver, "He is the most despicable man I have ever met in my life. The things he said…"   
  
Glorfindel once again gritted his teeth and placed a hand on one of the Silvan elf's shoulders.   
"What things, young one?" For a moment, Celylith didn't answer, and so he added, even more softly, "Please, I have to know. All this concerns you as much as me."   
  
"I know," the silver haired elf nodded slowly. "I know that, my lord. It's just that…" He trailed off and took a deep, hitching breath. "He talked about what he had done to Prince Legolas, and Estel, and … the twins as well."   
  
Glorfindel decided in a split second that his teeth wouldn't be able to stand any more grinding, and so he carefully unclenched his jaw and tried to convince his lungs to start working again that were starting to burn with lack of oxygen. So he had been right when he had thought that it had been one of the twins he had heard earlier. Suddenly he found himself gripped by the powerful urge to kill someone, preferably that Glamir.   
  
"Do not trust anything these people say," he told the younger elf, carefully attempting to keep his voice soft and neutral. "Throwing your captive off balance by telling whatever kind of lies seems to be the most effective is one of the most basic interrogation techniques, as you well know."   
  
"Yes, I do," Celylith nodded again, his eyes dark and haunted in his cut face. "But there was something in his voice that … just … just…" He shook his head slowly. "At least a part of it was true, I am sure about it. That … that man hurt my prince, no, let's be perfectly clear, he _tortured _him, and I wasn't there to prevent it! I never am when he needs me! What kind of guardian am I? What kind of _friend _am I?"   
  
"At the moment, an injured and irrational one," Glorfindel retorted, deciding to ignore the way his own heart clenched in guilt and dread when he heard the other's words. He reached out with a hand to touch Celylith's right arm and wasn't very shocked when the younger elf sucked in a deep breath and tried to pull away from him only to hit the wall instantly. If he hadn't been so worried about the silver haired elf's condition, he would have smiled. "So this is nothing, is it?"   
  
Celylith took a few deep breaths until the pain had died down sufficiently and finally opened his eyes again which he had clamped shut, a hint of a small, wry smile on his lips.   
"Well, there may be some … small … problems I didn't previously mention."   
  
Glorfindel shook his head slightly, inwardly marvelling at how much alike all of the young ones were, especially in terms of stubbornness, and moved over to the Silvan elf's right side. He strained his eyes to try and discern the outline of Celylith's arm, and, after a moment or two, reached out and carefully took up the younger elf's arm. The other didn't move a muscle until Glorfindel tried to extricate his hand from where he had somehow hidden it in the folds of his ripped shirt; then, however, his face turned the colour of freshly fallen snow and he jumped nearly five inches into the air. A second later Glorfindel exposed the younger elf's right hand and his head shot up, blue eyes fixing accusingly on the other's pale face.   
  
"This is nothing? You should have shown this to me sooner! What are you trying to do, to get yourself permanently marred?" He shook his head incredulously and returned his stare to the silver haired elf's hand. "What were you thinking, young one?"   
  
Celylith tried to take a deep breath and did his best to look innocent, failing miserably on both counts. He looked down at his hand which, from the looks and feel of it now that the pain had died down sufficiently, could have been an alien appendage. He almost didn't recognise it as his own hand, swollen and red as it was, and Lord Glorfindel's accusing stares didn't help matters either.   
"I … must have … forgotten it somehow?"   
  
The look the golden haired elf lord gave him would have put Hithrawyn to shame.   
"Forgotten. I see." He looked back at the hand, careful not to touch it. "They dislocated your fingers, Celylith. All of them. How could you have forgotten something like this?"   
  
The silver haired elf did not answer, seemingly entranced by the sight of his disfigured hand, and Glorfindel's anger and indignation faded a little. This young one might be just as reckless as Elrond's sons and the Prince of Mirkwood, but he was also afraid and in a lot of pain.   
"This is your fighting hand, is it not?"   
  
"Aye, it is," Celylith ground out between tightly clenched teeth as the blond elf's long fingers carefully moved over his own. "Or it was until now. Maybe it is time to switch to fighting with my left hand, what do you think, my lord?"   
  
"I wouldn't start training yet if I were you," the older elf shook his head minutely, pushing down the anger that threatened to overcome him at the sight of the silver haired warrior's hand. He wasn't really sure, but he thought that at least some of the fingers were also broken, not only dislocated. Had Celylith been a man or of any other race than the elven, his fingers would be far beyond aid now. He suppressed a cold shiver when he remembered how humans usually dealt with such grave wounds. "It's not too late. I can still straighten them, but I'll have to do it now."   
  
Celylith gave his hand a quick look, decided that there was no way he would be spending the coming ages of this world with it in this condition and finally nodded at the golden haired elf.   
"I understand. Thank you, my lord."   
  
"I am no healer," Glorfindel cautioned softly, taking a tight hold of the other's wrist with one of his hands. "I am no match to my lord or his sons, neither to the twins nor to Estel. I think I can set your fingers, but it will hurt quite a lot I am afraid."   
  
"It will be worth it, believe me. I was never exceptionally skilled with my left hand," Celylith said nonchalantly, trying to take his thoughts off the agony that tore through his fingers at even the slightest touch. "With a dagger, I am fine, but I don't think I could ever threaten anyone but myself if I wielded my sword left-handedly. I am not prepared to see orcs die from laughter at my ineptitude instead of by my sword. Besides, it already does 'hurt quite a lot'."   
  
Glorfindel refrained from pointing out that, no matter how much something hurt, it could always become a lot worse, correct in the assumption that that was something the other elf wouldn't want to hear right now. With a curt nod he shifted his grip slightly, ignoring the pain that flashed over the younger elf's face. He had been on enough battlefields after the fight had been over to know how to tend to various wounds, and more than once even his limited ability had saved lives that would otherwise have been lost before the wounded could have been brought to a healer. To straighten a few fingers shouldn't be too hard for him, and still the visions of what would happen to this young one should he fail to do it correctly danced through his head, threatening to rob him of the last remnants of his composure.   
  
"Alright," he nodded far more calmly than he really was. "I am sure that you will be able to return the favour soon. I have the very distinct feeling that, unless something truly miraculous happens, we will be stuck here for quite some time."   
  
"Thank you, my lord," Celylith opened one eye and gave the blond elf a half tired and half amused look. "I really needed to hear that right now. There is nothing like the passing mention of certain impending pain, death and doom to lift one's spirit."   
  
Glorfindel gave the other a small smile, deciding that he was about as distracted as he was ever going to be, and without warning straightened the index finger, letting go only when he felt the dislocated joint slide back into place. The only reaction he got from his patient was an automatic attempt to pull away, but the younger elf was trapped between the wall and Glorfindel's restraining hands and was therefore unable to do what his body so urgently told him to.   
  
The golden haired elf lord quickly worked on, deciding that it would probably be best to get this over with as quickly as possible, and only when he had straightened the thumb and middle finger and was snapping the forth back into place a soft, pain-filled cry escaped the younger warrior that was almost immediately bitten off. Glorfindel ignored it as best as possible and repeated the process with the last finger, feeling a thin trickle of sweat run down one of his temples and wondering when it had got so hot in this cell. A quick jerk and another small cry of pain later he slowly and carefully placed the injured but straightened hand on the Silvan elf's heaving chest, who immediately grabbed his wrist and cradled his appendage close to him, his face a greenish-grey colour.   
  
"It's alright. It's over," Glorfindel told him softly, unconsciously using the tone of voice in which he had often spoken to one of the twins when they had been children and had been hurt in one of their stupid, reckless dares. "You did well, Celythramirion. Rest now; I can wrap the fingers and the rest of your injuries later."   
  
"No," the younger elf shook his head breathlessly, "No, it's alright. I just … need a … moment, that's all…"   
  
"What you need is rest," Glorfindel said sternly, deciding instantly that elves under the age of three thousand years were all the same, namely unable to admit that they were in pain, hurt or injured in any way. "There is no need for this. You will need your strength and so will I, and I would hate to waste mine arguing with you."   
  
Celylith carefully leaned back against the wall, his hand still cradled to his chest, but made one last attempt, apparently unwilling to give up so easily.   
"How could someone … rest in here?"   
  
"Well," the older elf smiled slightly, pressing Celylith gently but firmly down onto the cot, "I might be able to be of service here. I think I know just the story to take your mind off our admittedly rather bleak situation."   
  
He sat down next to the silver haired elf who was obviously battling with the exhaustion and pain that still pulsed through his hand and the rest of his body. He leaned back against the wall, a small smile on his lips.   
  
"This story takes place a long time ago, at least three hundred years, I think. It starts one beautiful autumn morning, when a dashingly handsome, golden haired, extremely brave and enormously skilled warrior woke up with the most horrible hangover imaginable."   
  
Glorfindel looked at the younger elf, seeing with satisfaction that a broad smile was beginning to spread over his face. Well, he thought somewhat smugly, the description wasn't that far off after all, was it? He smiled broadly as well and continued.   
  
"He had been ambushed the evening before by an evil, malicious and thoroughly sneaky and perfidious councillor with a bottle of dubious and extremely potent human brandy, and, although he had battled the effects of the insidious brew most valiantly, had succumbed to its poisonous effects. But the wicked fiend had underestimated the warrior's righteous determination to avenge himself for all the humiliation he had suffered that evening, and so it came that…"   
  
He went on for quite some time, and by the time Celylith lost the battle against unconsciousness that finally pulled him under, Glorfindel had related just how the dashingly handsome warrior had written a certain word on the evil councilman's forehead and had further avenged himself on him to his full satisfaction.   


  
  
There was a _mûmak_ stomping through his room, and judging by the sound of its footsteps, it was a very ill-tempered, exceptionally nervous _mûmak_, too.   
  
Thump … thump … thump. Silence. The sound of someone or something turning on their heel. Thump … thump … thump. It went on and on and on, and the annoyance with the never-ending rhythm finally gave him the strength to open his eyes.   
  
For a few moments, his eyes refused to co-operate at all, and he simply stared straight ahead, waiting for them to adjust to the dim light that filled the room. When they did, he fully expected to lay eyes on a large, anxious grey oliphaunt, but instead of that he saw an in comparison to a _mûmak _rather small, but very anxious elven prince who was very busy pacing a hole into the floor in front of his bed.   
  
Aragorn felt far too content just lying there and watching his friend to really think about what had happened, where they were and what was going on, and so he didn't even try to figure these things out. He simply remained motionless in his bed and watched Legolas turn around and pace the three steps over to the wall in front of him. The blond elf scowled at the wall, wheeled around and stomped back, thump … thump … thump.   
  
After a while the sight lost a considerable amount of its appeal, and the man opened his mouth, finding that the words he wanted to speak nearly stuck in his parched throat.   
"…scale from one to … ten this is at … least a nine."   
  
Legolas came to a sudden, violent stop, looking remarkably like a puppet that had just very abruptly been pulled back by its puppeteer. His mouth opened like that of a fish on dry land, and for a moment the elf merely stared at his human friend who was slowly and carefully propping himself up on his elbows, returning Legolas' look dispassionately. It took him only another moment to snap out of his temporary paralysis, and he rushed over to the ranger's bed, nearly knocking over a pair of small oil lamps that were sitting on the chair next to him.   
  
"Estel!" he cried out, beaming like the midday sun herself. "You are awake!"   
  
"Obviously," Aragorn smiled wryly, leaning back into his pillows again now that his body reported a multitude of hurts and pains to his still foggy brain. He still couldn't remember what had happened, but a dark, thoroughly ominous memory was slowly beginning to move to the forefront of his mind and told him unambiguously that he didn't really want to know either. He opened his mouth to say more, but Legolas cut him off immediately.   
  
"Thank the Valar!" the fair haired elf breathed, automatically reaching out to place a cool, slender hand on the man's forehead. "Do you know how worried I've been about you? I swear to you, Estel, that I will personally wring your neck if you ever do something like this to me again!" He ignored the half-confused and half-annoyed look on Aragorn's face and moved his hand from the man's reasonably cool forehead to his less bruised cheek. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Can you remember what happened? You are not … confused, are you? What were you talking about just now?"   
  
Aragorn's brain that was still working rather slowly needed some time to separate Legolas' mothering questions (which he could safely try to ignore in his opinion) from the relevant ones, and finally nodded slowly.   
  
"I am … fine," he said, lifting a bandaged arm to his eyes and surveying the appendage, apparently puzzled by the dressings. "I can't really remember what happened, but I'm fine."   
  
Legolas' face twisted into a slightly suspicious grimace, but relief finally won out.   
"The healer said that the fever wouldn't drain you as much as a natural one would have, and I have never been happier to see healer's prognosis confirmed." The suspicious look returned to the elf's face as he carefully placed his second hand against his friend's face and peered intently into his eyes. "What were you talking about then if you are 'fine'?"   
  
Aragorn returned his stare solemnly, a serious, dark look in his eyes that put Legolas on edge almost immediately.   
"I meant, _mellon nín_," the young man began slowly in a grave tone of voice that would have made a professional undertaker proud, "that, on a scale from one to ten, your personation of an anxious, over-protective mother-oliphaunt was at least a nine, if not a nine-and-a-half."   
  
For a moment, Legolas simply stared at the man with wide eyes before he retracted his hands and shook his head darkly, mock indignation on his face.   
"I should have learnt by now never to expect a coherent sentence out of you right after waking up, shouldn't I?"   
  
"I think so," Aragorn agreed amiably. "Your inability to remember that has been a source of much wonder for me, and I…"   
  
He trailed off and his eyes widened as the memory he had been trying to ignore refused to be pushed aside any longer, and in a matter of moments all colour drained from his face. The man's body tensed up as his head shot up, and silver eyes began to dart through the room in something closely resembling a panic. Legolas quickly took hold of his friend's shoulders and turned him to the side to look into his face, willing the man to calm down.   
  
"Estel," he said calmly, tightening his hold on him ever so slightly. "Aragorn! Listen to me!" The man's head whipped around and panicky grey eyes fixed on his face with almost painful intensity, causing Legolas to look at him with the calmest expression he could muster right now. "It is alright. We are safe, my friend. Teonvan won't find you here, and even if he did, he wouldn't live long enough to lay even a single finger on you. Trust me, _mellon nín_. He is gone, and both you and I are alright."   
  
For long moments, Aragorn merely stared at his elven friend before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, all mirth and mischievousness from earlier gone in an instant.   
"Where … where are we?"   
  
"Still in the city," Legolas answered and shifted back a little. He tried to take his thoughts off Celylith and the others and all the things that could have happened to Laenro's sister on her more than a little bit risky mission and did his best to exude more confidence than he actually felt. "We are in a house in the western district. It's been more than a day since you lost consciousness in the cell."   
  
"A day?" Aragorn asked incredulously, sinking back into his pillows once more as he found that his elbows lacked the strength to keep him upright much longer. "How is that possible? I mean, the last thing I remember is … Teonvan and his little spiky toys, and then everything gets … well, rather blurry."   
  
"No wonder," Legolas shook his head slowly, not missing the signs that Aragorn definitely not fine. 'Fine'-fine would rather describe his state of health, the elf decided wryly; Aragorn was really the only person in this world who would call being riddled with holes and Valar-knew-what else "fine". "The … potion you mentioned earlier, the one Teonvan used, is a poison of sorts. It causes high fevers, and you have been battling it for more than a day now. Thesieni, the healer here, said that no more than one or two men out of ten survive its effects." He smiled slightly. "It is your stubbornness that saved your life for once. I think you were simply too mulish to die."   
  
"No," the man shook his head as well, his brow creased in a frown. "Now I remember. No more but a few shreds here and the vague memory of a face there, but I do remember your voice. I never understood the words, but I knew you were there, somehow." He reached out a little bit wobbly, grasped the elf's hand and squeezed it briefly. "If you are looking for something on which to blame my continued survival, you needn't pick my stubbornness, _mellon nín_."   
  
Legolas smiled and squeezed back, the shadows that lingered in his eyes at the memory still not disappearing entirely.   
"I think both you and I know better, reckless human, but thank you for saying it."   
  
"Oh yes," Aragorn smiled as well, "We do indeed, stubborn elf." He shook his head once more, the questions that had been starting to build up inside of him beginning to drive him to distraction. "And now _please _tell me what is going on before my head explodes! The last thing I vaguely remember is being brought back to the cell. How did you manage to get us out of there, and out of the castle for that matter?"   
  
Legolas contemplated for a split second whether or not he shouldn't just call Thesieni as he had vowed to do as soon as the man woke up – in his opinion Aragorn wasn't up to asking questions and listening to rather confusing answers for longer than a few minutes, and this was most definitely going to take longer than a few minutes. As soon as he looked into the man's determined eyes, however, he knew that nothing except drugs would make him comply. He grinned inwardly. He would keep that in mind as a last resort…   
  
"Alright," he said reluctantly. "Alright, I'll tell you what happened, but only if you promise, no, _swear _to me that you will tell me if you are getting too tired or the pain becomes too much. I am sure the healer would be more than willing to give you something to help you sleep should I ask it of her."   
  
The _look _that the young ranger shot him assured him more than anything else that he would be alright, and so the elven prince begun with the tale of what had happened since the man had lost consciousness more than a day ago, a tale that was beginning to become more complex and confusing by the second in Legolas' opinion. For the first half-hour or so Aragorn remained quiet, only asking a few questions here and there, and not even Cendan's unexpected and unexplainable behaviour was enough to truly shock him. The man appeared less surprised by Cendan's behaviour than Legolas had been, but then again, the elf thought amusedly, he had never claimed to understand _edain_, and he most certainly had never claimed to understand this particular one. Only when Legolas explained – very hesitantly and rather hurriedly – what had happened to his brothers and their companions and where Ethoani had gone, the ranger's composure abandoned him and he stared at Legolas incredulously.   
  
"What do you mean, _captured_?" He took a deep breath and shook his head slowly from side to side. "Are you telling me that they followed us, walked into this city, got themselves captured and dragged Celylith and Glorfindel down with them?"   
  
"Well," Legolas said carefully, "I think that that is a rather exaggerated summary, but it is essentially true, I fear."   
  
"How stupid can you be?" Aragorn ranted on. "They just followed us, walked into almost certain doom and expected to get away with?"   
  
"That's the gist of it, yes."   
  
"What were they thinking? This is by far the most reckless, stupidest thing they have ever done! At least Glorfindel should have known better! To simply walk in here and think to be of any help this way is just…"   
  
"A family trait," Legolas interjected wryly. "You did just the same, didn't you?"   
  
"Uhm," Aragorn said somewhat ineloquently, "Well, yes, but that was an entirely different situation!"   
  
Legolas didn't comment on the ranger's words, but the eyebrow he raised in an exceedingly unbelieving way spoke volumes. Even despite the situation they were in, despite his worry for his brothers and friends and despite the fear to be recaptured that still filled a good part of him, Aragorn began to smile broadly. If Legolas only knew how much he looked like his father sometimes! He knew no one, not even his own father, who could express disbelief by raising a single eyebrow quite like the King of Mirkwood.   
  
"Alright," he finally conceded. "I might have done something like that myself, but I refuse any responsibility whatsoever for my actions! Ever since I can remember Elladan and Elrohir have been there, setting bad examples and corrupting my poor, innocent mind! How else could I have turned out to be … will you please stop laughing!"   
  
"I am sorry, _mellon nín_," Legolas gasped out between chuckles that belied his words. No, he thought inwardly, he wasn't sorry at all, and he couldn't believe how much better he already felt, knowing that Aragorn would be alright and hearing his stupid jokes. "It is just that the mere idea of you being a poor and innocent child is … mind-boggling."   
  
"At least I can still remember my childhood, o ancient one," Aragorn retorted good-naturedly, desperately needing something to take his mind off their current situation. "You, on the other hand, are so old that your mind is already beginning to become weak and feeble!"   
  
"Feeble?" Legolas asked incredulously, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. "Feeble? If I am feeble, what are our fathers then? Or your brothers? Or Glorfindel? Or the Lady Galadriel, or Lord Celeborn, or Mithrandir, or Erestor, or Curunír, or…"   
  
Before Aragorn could think of something that would both free the aforementioned elves and wizards of any accusation of senility and still insist on his previous statement, Legolas' head turned sharply to the side. The man was about to ask what his friend had heard when two hasty knocks sounded on the door a level beneath them. They sounded as exhausted and urgent as knocks could sound at all, and the two friends looked at each other, both of them knowing what that meant.   
  
It had to be the men Laenro had sent to the abandoned shop to meet with Ethoani, and, judging by the sound of it and the way the door was hastily pulled open and low voices began to whisper urgently to each other, it hadn't gone according to plan. 

That just might have been the understatement of the past decade, as they later realised. 

_Nothing _had gone according to plan.  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...  
  
  
  
  
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_pen-neth - young one  
mûmak (sg. of mûmakil) - oliphaunt, one of the great war-elephants of Harad  
mellon nín - my friend  
edain - humans, men  
  
  
  
  
_**No oxen were hurt in the process of writing that scene, really. *g* Celylith's new friend will be fine as well, don't worry, it was just a flesh wound. Elrohir didn't really have any other choice, did he? Well, be that as it may, the next post should be here in six days or a week, depending on how much work I manage to collect** **during the rest of the week. So, from now on, I'll post about every Wednesday. Once again, reviews are always greatly appreciated, the last ones really helped me a lot during my exams. ****Really**. ***g* So, review please?  
  
  
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Additional A/N:  
  
LOTRFaith** - Well, yes, now that you mention it, I agree, I think. They ARE all insane... *g* LOL, so you want to put an arrow through Girion's eye _and_ slit his throat? I can't really say I disagree, so... But then again, I kinda like him. I hate Teonvan, but I like Girion. *shrugs* Don't tell me, I'm mad too.  
**Elvendancer - **Great! *beams happily* Then you're not angry, that means a lot to me! *g* And you are right, of course, I had quite a lot of stuff to dodge. Someone threw a hill troll at me, can you believe that? *shakes head incredulously* You people are just as insane as I am. Really. *g*  
**Marbienl** - Uhm, Monday is a stupid day? Wednesday is much nicer! *cringes under her glare* I am sorry for not posting sooner - and sorry you had to wait for your beloved Estel waking up - but I really didn't have the time. It's nice to hear you understand, though. *smiles sheepishly* And I agree. Estel would realise that the humans knew Legolas if they called him Lasseg. And I really like that name! Oh, and believe me when I say that the twins will have more than enough problems on their own when they get to Laenro's house, and I think that being angry would cost them way too much energy... *evil grin*   
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Yes, it most definitely _can_ end there. I mean, it wasn't really a real cliffy! *watches her run around in circles* Uhm, twelve days aren't THAT long? *frowns* Well, apparently they are... Oh, and I think it's prolonged contact with Estel. He's contagious, that's what he is... *g* Did Elladan have to say what? He said quite a lot in that chapter, idiot that he is... And I absulutely agree, $20 is alright. I get the same here when I babysit, but it's hard-earned money! *g*  
**Alasse Tiwele** - LOL, thank you! At the moment I think I don't have time to write that particular story though. Another reviewer (Marbienl to be exact) wanted to see that story I hinted at a few times, something about a hill troll, I believe, so this one's next. I don't write more than one story at a time, so the meeting (should I ever write it) could only be written after the next big story. *shrugs* I'm quite weird, I know. And now take a deep breath and repeat after me: Twelve days are not two weeks. Twelve days are not two weeks. *g* Feel better? *dodges heavy objects* I doubt it somehow.   
**Burn2Shine** - *blushes* Thank you! It's very nice to hear that you like my insane little story (and nice to hear that you don't want to kill me for posting a little later)! About that request: I'll see what I can do. The thing is that I have so many different scenes with so many different people I have to integrate that it's hard to fit in enjoyable little tidbits like angst. Now they're all back together though, and trust me when I say that there will be quite a lot of Legolas-angst towards the end. *g***  
Someone Reading** - LOL, I can just imagine you guys bringing a cave troll. I have to tell you though that I have a pet balrog named Stan. He's my bodyguard, and more than capable to deal with a cave troll! *g* And I agree with you, Glorfindel is at least partly responsible, since he really should have known better. But they were all worried and impatient, which is no excuse, but an explanation at least. *g* Elves are, after all, far from perfect. Poor them. Thanks a lot for the great review!  
**Gwyn** - Ah well, I think Legolas has other problems right now. Now that I think about it, he has a LOT of other problems right now... *evil grin* Yes, I love making their lives miserable... I need help.  
**TrustingFriendship** - Well, I don't want her to die either, but I don't really have a choice in that matter. Any and all complaints should be taken up with Jack, she's responsible for that particular development... *g* And yes, Glorfindel and Celylith do have a small problem now, don't they? They just might not escape at all! *cakles evilly* Oh, I do enjoy being evil... And I think I can safely say that their families won't find them. Would be far too easy, wouldn't it? *cackles evilly - again* Jeez, I really have to stop doing that. Thanks for the review, and the exams went well indeed. *sighs in relief* That's something at least.  
**Bookworm, .303** - Okay, I'll say it: "Glorfindel and Celylith are going to escape soon" It's not true, but I said it, didn't I? *g* Great you liked the chapter, hopefully you'll like the rest as well! Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Smile Neumann** - Yup, I had her rescue the twins and not Glorfindel, mainly because I promised a lot of people (some of them about a year ago) that I'd write a Glorfindel-torture-story, or at least one where he gets tortured. Sorry about that, but I really couldn't disappoint them. And you like Boromir? Well, let's just say that I kinda like the Book-Boromir. I absolutely loathe Movie-Boromir though, sorry, or let's rather say I loathe _The Bean_. *shrugs* Sorry, I just dislike him. *g* So, there will be some Glorfindel torture in a few chapters, I hope that'll cheer you up! Thanks for the review!  
**Crippled Raven** - *wide-eyed* No, bleach is NOT good for you. You really shouldn't drink much of it, I think. Then again, it IS awfully effective... *g* And I absolutely agree: The twins are adorably stupid. It's not their fault really, you can't fight your genes, after all... I like suicidal rampages as well, they're really a lot of fun. They tend to frighten the people you live with, but they're funny as hell. *g* And my reaction time has got a whole lot better! See! *ducks quicker than the eye can follow* Wohoo! Missed me! *gets hit by a cave troll* Ouch - I knew there was a second one somewhere around here... *g*  
**CrazyLOTRFan** - Yup, it could have been the Ring of Barahir, but I guess that was too valuable. Aragorn would have killed Legolas if he had woken up and found out that he had given one of his most prized possessions to a strange, rather suicidal girl... And about the majority thing: I am afraid I DID mean majority, not maturity. I looked it up in my faithful Thesaurus just to be sure, and this is what it said: 1. The property resulting from being or relating to the greater in number of two parts; the main part (what you meant); 2. (elections) more than half of the votes (again, what you meant); 3. The age at which a person is considered competent to manage their own affairs (what I meant) So, essentially, you could use maturity I guess, but I meant majority as in a fixed age, I guess about fifty in elven societies. Here it's 18 years, and over in the US or Canada it might be 21, I am not really sure. *sheepish smile* And I'm afraid I didn't have much FUN studying, but it was worth it at least. And I don't think Teonvan would survive long in my company - I am not overly fond of him myself. *creepy smile* Poor him.  
**Sirithiliel** - Nope, they never do. I think the twins don't even know the meaning of that word, at least not since they so stupidly decided to adopt Aragorn. I think that was their first mistake. *evil grin* Great you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!  
**Snow-Glory** - *helpfully* Well, it was actually twelve days. Sorry about that. How's the hair? *evil grin* I know I'm evil, don't tell me. The twins have to escape, indeed, but once again people seem to think that they'll be able to save anyone. They won't be, but that's another story. *g* Thanks for the great and encouraging review, and to my unending surprise I did very well indeed! *huggles*  
**Koriaena** - Yeah, the characters are like cats, aren't they? Cats aren't suicidal either when they jump off balconies - they merely think they can fly. Just like our heroes, they just think they can survive anything... *shakes head* The worst thing is that they're mostly right... *g*  
**Shauna** - It's nice to hear that you liked the chapter so much, but I'm afraid I have to tell you that Ethoani won't be doing anything for a while, least of all helping anybody escape anything. Sorry. *g* And I can't tell you either whether or not she is going to die, but I can tell you that I never had a choice. I wrote Ethoani's character for Jack, so everything is her fault. *evil grin* As always.  
**Just Jordy** - Oh, believe me, it did help me! I didn't have time to write anything, and yet I sat down and typed like a maniac. Then again, I always do that, but the reviews really, really helped me a lot. *huggles* Thank you! I like the twins too, btw, and Elladan does get annoying from time to time. Poor Elrohir. *g*  
**Uineniel** - My condolences. I had to use Internet Cafés quite a few times myself, and I always went completely mad. One time the computer didn't work, the next didn't have any plug-ins installed, the next hated FF.net and so on. It was horrible. *g* I am honoured that you went through all that to read my insane little story. Thank you. And yes, Aragorn is indeed waking up now, stubborn human that he is. I hope you didn't spend too much money and that your modem is back to normal (or as normal as your average modem ever is), thank you very much for your review!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - *blinks* Uhm ... you're welcome? Great I managed to make you happy... And there's even more of them in this chapter, even though almost all is Elrohir, since his idiot brother is unconscious all the time. But since, if I remember correctly, Elrohir is your favourite anyway, that shouldn't be too bad, huh? Oh, and they haven't hurt _Glorfindel_ yet - emphasis on "yet". *evil grin* But I would like to see your army of chocolate bunnies nonetheless. It sounds fearsome. *g* And I would ask you not to glomp onto any of the elves right now. I don't think any of them is up to it at the moment. *g* Thanks for the candy, even though we're not religious and don't celebrate it, I still like the candy. *g*  
**Red Tigress** - Well, let me put it this way: _Aragorn_ will be conscious to meet with the twins, but I don't know about them. They just might be busy being unconscious... *evil grin* Ah, I love being evil. They deserve it though, especially when they're behaving as stupidly as now.  
**Bailey** - Yeah, they should all be rescued - and they would be if I didn't possess such an evil alter ego. Unfortunately for them, I do, so that means they're not going to get rescued, at least in the near future. Sorry. *g* And I think you could say that the 'good' characters are suicidal while the 'evil' ones are merely ... uhm, evil? Well, that sounded stupid, but is true, I guess. So: It's better to be a bad guy. *g*  
**Firniswin** - *watches as her papers are attacked* Well - thank you, I guess. It didn't really solve anything since the papers are in the computer or laptop or both, but it was kinda sweet. Rather insane, too, but sweet. *g* Sorry that it was this chapter that took me longer to post, but it could have been worse - I could have left it with a cliffy! You can never have too many of them... *sighs* I love them. Cliffies, I mean. *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - Let me think about that for a moment. Hmm ... yes. Yes, I do expect you to believe that you have to wait for twelve days. I'm evil, I know, but ... yes. Sorry. *g* Oh, and my graduation is still a long way away, I'll get my magister (it's kinda like a master, I think) in about two years. So, there's still plenty of time... *g* Oh, and yes, you sounded _very_ menacing and mean. I am still shaking like a leaf. *g* I can't tell you anything about Ethoani. All I can tell you is that the whole thing is Jack's fault, not mine. I wrote the character for her. *g* And ... well, the guards weren't really Cendan and his men, and even if they had, I doubt he would have helped her. He's not really a nice man, after all. But yes, you can of course dream. *evil grin* Dream on.  
**Iccle Fairy** - Hmm, yes, Cendan COULD do that, I suppose. It would be way too easy though, so he won't, I'm afraid. LOL, you would like it to read how all of them are tortured and killed? Wow, you're even worse than I am! Thanks for the review!  
**TrinityTheSheDevil** - Hey, it's nothing to drool about! It's a very tense situation - you should be ashamed of yourself! *g* As I said in the A/N, you'll have to wait for Glorfindel torture another chapter, but there's a little Celylith torture in here, even though not really explicit. I hope that's enough to satisfy you for now. Sorry to hear that RL is being an a**, my advise: Get bigger boots and kick back! And don't stop until it's gone away. I know, it never works, but a girl can dream, huh?   
**Tychen** - Well, it has taken me the longest time to post, so all's forgiven. *g* Your positive thoughts most definitely helped, thanks a lot! *huggles* It was either that or the fact that I had Teonvan and his spikes with me. My profs were quite freaked out to say the least... *g* Thanks a lot for the review (and the positive thoughts, of course! *g*), it really helped me loads!  
**Karone Evertree** - LOL, yes, just breathe, that's the key... *g* Glorfindel is at the moment in a nice comfy cell in the dungeons, and the childhood friend Ethoani was talking about was Celylith. I don't know if Legolas knew Glorfindel since he was a child, but I doubt you could call him a childhood friend considering the vast difference in age... *shrugs* Whatever. Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Zam** - Yeah, well, Wolf-Sauron has a little trouble with obedience. Then again, he could also simply hate you, you never know... *g* LOL, so you and Legolas have the same mind? That's why he tried to kill himself all the time! It really explains quite a lot... And on a personal note: I really like the name Oswald Spalding Kenobi. Has a very nice ring, really, the perfect name for an ox. *g* And you're quite right about Ethoani, btw. Estel and Legolas have already rubbed off on her. *g*  
**Jera** - First I would like to say how wonderful your review was. I got it the day before my exams, in the exact moment I was close to despairing and very sure that I'd die the next day. So, it really, really cheered me up, thanks a lot. *g* It's great to hear that you like the change in perspectives. Some people seem to have problems with it, but I couldn't write a story only from one person's POV. I haven't tried yet to be perfectly precise, but I think it'd be hard. Hmm, I have never really seen it that way, but I guess Ethoani is a little like Éowyn. Both are kinda suicidal, after all. *g* It's also nice to know that you like Glamir. I love him myself (don't ask me why, I love both Girion and Glamir but I hate Teonvan) and am of course very happy that people like him. I've always loved the bad guys. I have to admit that I was firmly convinced that the term is "to make due", but it appears you are right. I haven't found it in any of my faithful dictionaries, but my new thesaurus says you're right. Thanks for correcting that. *g* I am sorry for posting so late and hope you'll be able to read it soon. I promise you a Glorfindel-Glamir scene in ch. 28 though, I hope that'll cheer you up a little. Once again, thanks for the long, wonderful review! It was truly wonderful! *huggles*  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - I'm sorry, but that's not really up to me. I wrote Ethoani's character for Jack, and she gave me very clear orders as to what is to become of her. *g* So, it's really not up to me. You are quite evil btw, telling your sister things like that. I'm afraid she'll have to wait yet a bit longer, but I think I'll be finished in a moth or a bit longer. This story really takes ages. *shakes head sadly* Horrible, I know. And I would put up the rest of the story if I had written it, which I haven't, sadly. *g*  
**Celebdil-galad + Tinlaure** - I know exactly what you mean. It happens quite often to me as well: I'm sitting in the library, trying very hard to concentrate, and just can't keep my thoughts off the story. And before I know what's happening, I'm typing that one scene that was missing and then... *shakes head* Horrible. Hmm, you want Teonvan and Glamir (or is it Girion?)? I think that can be arranged, I'm thinking about handing out evil guys-clones after this story's over. So, no problem, just wait a bit longer and you can have two copies. *g* And how they die is absolutely up to you, cat or dog doesn't matter. And I think it's the Spanish-Dutch conflict in the colonies between 1609 and 1621 that's taking me so long. It's the topic of the paper I have yet to write, and I HATE it! *grrr* Sorry for keeping you waiting!  
**An Exhausted Suzi** - *huggles* Aww, poor you. I'm sorry to hear that you are so busy! So you went to Cambridge? It's beautiful, isn't it? When I was in England, I was living in Stansted Mountfitchet, you know, close to the airport (even though you hardly even notice the planes), which is quite close to Cambridge. I was right in the middle between London and Cambridge, and was there quite a lot of times - there are a few very nice shops there, really. Lots of tourists too, but a beautiful town. I'm sure you enjoyed it too. *g* I hope RL doesn't annoy you too much!   
**Narina Nightfall** - Wow - three huge reviews! Thanks! *huggles* *raises eyebrow* The FOAM THING is going to get you, huh? Well, that sounds - dangerous... I guess you're right btw, there are humans who have really old eyes with 18, but I guess the eyes of an elf would be even older. I mean, no matter how much you've seen with 18, it can hardly compare to about 2800 years or something, right? "My" Elladan is not exactly known for having a temper, but out of a reason I can't quite fathom, he's a little more quick-tempered than "my" Elrohir. Don't ask me why, they just developed like that. *shrugs* LOL, SweetWind and GentleWater? I can picture him doing that... Oh, and I liked the poem. Very ... interesting. *g* According to Tolkien the Easterlings favoured axes. But I'm sure they liked swords too. *g* And yes, Celylith has blue eyes. Dark blue (or midnight-blue as I sometimes say *g*) to be exact. LOL, Celywelly? Don't let Zam hear that... And it would have been slightly ... weird if Legolas had described the twins as "unmentionably cute", wouldn't it? I mean, this is Gen, not Slash! *g* Hmm, about the prince vs. princeling: It's a diminutive form. It merely means young or small prince. So, once again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! *huggles again*  
**Alisha B** - Hi! *waves eagerly* I thought you were dead or on another plane of existence! Great to see you again! *huggles startled Alisha* I missed you, of course, but I understand you. I only have time to review about three or four authors (and if you would start with that sequel you promised us ages ago, you would be one of them *g*), and understand completely if others don't have the time. And yes, the resistance doesn't like our two heroes very much, which I totally understand, of course. Their bad luck is contagious! *g* Thank you very much for your criticism. I never noticed, but now that you've pointed it out, I think you're right. Apart from Ethoani who really _is_ kinda suicidal they really shouldn't be, and I'll try to better myself. I really mean it, thanks a lot for pointing that out. They may be stupid, but they're not completely daft, after all. *g* And yes, I do read C&S, or I usually do. I don't really have the time right now, and I still haven't read more than three or so chapters of their new story. They update too quickly for me, and with this story and college I just can't keep up. I am flattered that you confused SP with one of their stories though. *blushes* And about the twin thing: I have never really thought about such a scenario, but I guess, in my opinion only, of course, that one twin would sense the other's death. Apart from the "mere" twin-bond (which has to be even stronger since they're elves), they're also Elrond's - and Celebrían's as Galadriel's daughter - sons, so I think it's safe to say that they would sense something like that. I'd also guess they could distinguish between death and unconsciousness (I mean, how often must that have happened? *g*), but I really don't know about a coma. It might be possible for them to mistake a coma for death. *shrugs* I don't really know, but I think so. I loved the review (_because_ it was more than a "this story is great; I love you"-review - even though I like them too! *g*), thanks a lot!  
**Kathleen LaCorneille** - I am sorry. I really am. I never meant to keep you guys waiting for so long. Not even my alter ego is THAT evil... *g* Thank you for all your kind words, and my exams went indeed very well. And believe me, I am VERY happy right now - I hate oral exams, I really do. *g* And Estel even wakes up this chapter, that's something, right? And don't worry about your English, it's not my first language either, after all. I make mistakes all the time! Thanks a lot for reviewing! *huggles*  
  
**Once again, thanks a lot for all the reviews! Especially last week it was wonderful to read them! *huggles all reviewers***  
  
  



	27. Point of No Return

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
*beams* I am so glad you liked Oswald Spald... *glares darkly at Zam for giving the poor thing that particular name* I mean, the Ox. I think he is cuddly and adorable too, and I'm sure Elrohir would realise that as well if he wasn't unconscious right now. *evil grin* Poor twin. I don't know yet whether or not Celylith will see it again (IF he manages to survive the whole thing in the first case, that is *even eviller grin*), but he might.  
  
Oh, and the "dashingly handsome warrior" Glorfindel so modestly talked about wasn't Legolas, sorry. It was he himself, the whole thing was an allusion to "Straight Paths", my little story No. 3, in which the whole thing plays a rather important role. I think I even mentioned it in ch. 1 in the A/N, but I should have put a note in the last chapter. Sorry if I caused any confusion. Oh, and no, I still won't tell you what _the word _is, sorry. *sheepish grin*  
  
And a last note before I go away and trouble you no more - well, at least not for another week. *g* I'll try to make this as clear as possible: There - won't - be - any - Legolas - torture - anymore. *large part of the readers get up and leave the room* Yes, well, I'm very sorry about that, but I don't believe in excessive torture - stop snickering back there! *glares* I don't mean to say that Legolas (or Aragorn, for that matter) won't get hurt anymore - which they most definitely will, because battles are very dangerous things, aren't they? - but there won't be any more torture for them, strictly speaking. Battle wounds do not count. *evil grin*  
  
  
Alright, yes, I'm going, don't worry. So, here we have the next chapter in which the - mostly unconscious - twins and our intrepid heroes are reunited, Lord Súliat's delegate returns and has a little chat with a very, very displeased Girion and there's a bit more of Glorfindel and Celylith, who are both still well and rather uninjured. So far. *g*  
  
Enjoy and review, please!**

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Chapter 27   
  
  
No matter how hard he tried to hear what was being spoken downstairs, he simply couldn't make out more than a couple of words, Legolas realised, more than a little bit annoyed. All he had been able to understand was "elves", "guards" and, most surprisingly, something that sounded suspiciously like "ox" – which was most probably a misunderstanding, there was simply no other explanation for it.   
  
He sighted in exasperation. He would need to go down there – something he would have done anyway, if he was perfectly honest with himself. There was, after all, the chance that the girl had managed to free Celylith and the others, and if that was so, they would almost certainly need his help. It was his fault that they were here in the first place after all, his and no other's, and so they were his responsibility – not to mention his friends, of course.   
  
He turned back to his human friend to tell him to stay here while he went and saw what he could find out, only to realise another thing: As soon as he thought he knew Aragorn and the full extent of his recklessness, the man would do something so incredibly foolish that it surprised him time and again. Right now, the young ranger was in the process of trying to get up, a procedure that was causing his face to turn a truly interesting shade of grey.   
  
For a moment, Legolas contemplated giving the man a chance to explain himself, only to remember that he had never seized such a chance when he was concentrating on one of his suicidal endeavours.   
"What exactly is it you are trying to do?" he finally inquired, the exasperation in his voice reaching new, unheard-of levels. "If you are attempting to kill yourself, my Lord Aragorn, just say it, I beg you. I would be most happy to oblige your wish."   
  
"Funny," Aragorn grumbled as he once again fell back onto his mattress. Someone – and he already suspected who it had been – had exchanged muscles, bones and tendons in his legs for pudding. "Very funny indeed, your Highness. What would make _me _truly happy though were if you gave me a hand and helped me stand. I don't think it would make such a good impression on our saviours and hosts – not to mention my brothers, of course – if I crawled out of this room, down the stairs and right into their meeting."   
  
"And to stagger in looking like one of the dead themselves will make a much better impression, I presume?" the fair haired elf shot back and glowered darkly at the rather unimpressed man. "Really, Estel, this is foolishness. You just woke up; you will help no one if you collapse in front of the twins and the others."   
  
"Something is wrong, Legolas, and you know it," Aragorn retorted, once again preparing to try and propel himself to his feet. "There might be my brothers down there, not to mention one of my old teachers and an annoying wood-elf of whom I have become quite fond. You wouldn't stay here if you were in my shoes either. You can deny it if you wish to, but both you and I know that I speak the truth."   
  
Legolas knew that just as well as the ranger in front of him who was emphasising his words with a large-eyed, pleading stare, but he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of actually affirming it. He merely folded his arms in a stubborn gesture that would have caused the man to smile had Aragorn been a little less busy with trying to will his legs to obey him and to ignore the pain that had awoken in every single square inch of his body. The elven prince sometimes looked so much like his father that it was almost unbelievable.   
  
"I am not allowing you to get out of bed, human, and I am most certainly not helping you to go anywhere," Legolas informed him darkly. "Thesieni, the healer, expressly forbade me to let you put one foot out of the bed, and your father would kill me. No," he added thoughtfully after a moment, "he will kill me anyway, but if I let you get up, he will kill me and make me suffer before granting me death."   
  
"Then just imagine what he will say if I tell him that you intentionally allowed me to fall flat on my face," the man ground out, trying to convince his body that standing up was not a bad idea. Right about now, his body did not agree in the slightest, but rather insisted on considering the incomparably more attractive possibility of lying back down. "If you do not wish to help me, it is perfectly fine with me and I will crawl down there, but trust me on this: I _will _crawl down there. There's no way I'll stay here if my brothers and friends need my help."   
  
Legolas didn't say anything but simply stared at the young ranger, horrible visions of what Lord Elrond would do to him if he ever found out that he had allowed Estel to get hurt on purpose dancing through his mind. With an annoyed headshake Aragorn stopped glaring at the elf and, with an abrupt motion of his arms, propelled himself to his feet. A smug smile began to spread over his face that only lasted for a few moments because he began to topple over, a rather amusing expression of annoyance and dread on his face. Before he could hit the ground though, Legolas had sprung to his feet and grabbed him, quickly slinging an arm around his waist.   
  
"Do not confuse this with approval," he advised the young man darkly. "I am simply bowing to your pigheaded stubbornness. If you wish to get yourself killed, alright, do it. Just don't expect me to drag your body back to your father, because I absolutely refuse to."   
  
"A pity," Aragorn grinned at his friend, trying to get his rather irregular breathing under control. "He would be delighted to see that his predictions of doom and dread regarding my immediate future in light of my reckless behaviour that would 'surely get myself killed' some day were correct."   
  
"I doubt it, _mellon nín_," Legolas shook his head as he grabbed a wide shirt Laenro had provided in a rather surprising act of generosity. He ignored the man's protestations that he was old enough to clothe himself and pulled it over Aragorn's head, having decided that it would most certainly not make a good impression to let the ranger walk around this house clad only in a pair of breeches and numerous bandages. "No," he went on, paying the dark, rebellious look on Aragorn's face no heed, "He will be anything but delighted, believe me. The only thing that comforts me at the moment is that I will most likely not survive the reunion with my father, so there is no need to worry about yours at the moment."   
  
"I wish I could say the same," the man retorted lightly, having decided that Legolas wouldn't care in the slightest if he glared at him or not. The elf began to half-carry him over to the staircase, unfortunately proving to him that Legolas was right and he wasn't strong enough to walk yet. Well, he thought wryly, there was no need to tell him that, was there?   
  
"No," he went on, "I very much doubt that your father will kill me if … _when_ we get back. He will merely hand me over to a contingent of guards that will drag me back to Rivendell. No, wait, he will accompany them and watch while my father cuts me into tiny little pieces."   
  
"I don't think your father would do that," Legolas shook his head, ignoring the way his own body protested against Aragorn's added weight. It took most of his concentration to manoeuvre both of them the narrow, wooden stairs and to stop them from tumbling down headfirst. "I think he would strangle you; Lord Elrond seems to be the type for it. My father, on the other hand," he grabbed Aragorn a little bit more tightly, "is, rather surprisingly, I know, a supporter of the more subtle approach of letting people starve. He will simply put me into a dungeon and forget about me."   
  
"Simple but effective," the man nodded breathlessly. "And you don't get your hands dirty."   
  
"Precisely," Legolas nodded as well. They reached the bottom of the stairs, causing both of them to breathe a quick sigh of relief. For a moment, the elf had truly thought they would both fall down the stairs and most likely break their necks. He turned to the right, following the sound of raised voices. "It is very inappropriate for the subjects to catch their king strangling someone. It's so very … messy."   
  
Aragorn grinned tiredly while his eyes swept over the unfamiliar surroundings.   
"I see your point. You wood-elves are very peculiar people."   
  
Legolas grinned back, but before he could say anything similar about the Noldor in general and the Noldorin elves of Imladris in particular, they reached the room adjacent to the front door he already knew. It looked much like the time they had arrived here, namely in complete and utter chaos. Legolas' eyes widened considerably as he took in the sight in front of him, and he felt how Aragorn sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.   
  
The first thing the elf noticed, feeling very much as if a large stone had been lifted from his chest, was that the twins were here, thank the Valar. A small stab of guilt joined the relief a moment later as he realised with strong disappointment that, while the two Noldor were here, Celylith and Glorfindel were not. His thoughts quickly returned to his two friends though and he frowned and tightened his grip on Aragorn who seemed to be torn between freezing in shock and the urge to run over to his brothers.   
  
And he had good reason for it, too, a small, wry voice in Legolas' head remarked. Both of the twins were unconscious and so covered in blood and bruises that it was quite hard to tell them apart. Right now he thought that it was Elladan whose back was covered in welts and Elrohir who looked as if he had had a violent encounter with an ill-tempered ringwraith, but there was really no way to be sure.   
  
Aragorn, however, did not seem to have any doubts whatsoever, and with a strength born of fear and worry the man wrenched his arm out of Legolas' grasp and rushed forward, into the direction of the two elves that were lying on the floor. One of them was in the process of being tended to by Thesieni, and the ranger steered over to the other twin, a look of horror on his face.   
  
"Elrohir!" he called, oblivious to his surroundings as he fell heavily to his knees and immediately began to assess the elf's injuries. "Elbereth, Elrohir, what did you two get yourselves into this time?"   
  
Thesieni looked up, and a look of such disapproval spread over her face that, for more than a second, both Aragorn and Legolas were strongly reminded of Hithrawyn. Other than the blond healer back at Mirkwood though, Thesieni didn't appear very fond of dark, reproachful lectures, and she contended herself with giving her patient who was so blatantly ignoring her professional recommendations a look that promised a long and serious discussion later and returned her attention to the elf in front of her.

"You know something about healing?"   
  
"Yes," Aragorn nodded absent-mindedly. "What happened?"   
  
The elderly woman raised a grey eyebrow.   
"Would you believe me if I told you that at least that one got on the wrong side of an ox?"   
  
"Yes," Aragorn nodded again without batting an eyelid. "Absolutely."   
  
For a moment, even the usually so unflappable healer blinked in mild confusion, but then she quickly nodded again, and a second later the two of them were discussion the twins' condition, Thesieni barking out orders for bandages and healing herbs faster than the men in the room could react.   
  
Legolas would have nearly followed the ranger, and be it only to drag him back to bed, but then he decided that he would only be in the way. He knew what Aragorn could be like when he was worried and concentrated on a patient, something that seemed to apply also for Thesieni, and there was no way they would listen to him now. Besides, these were the man's brothers they were talking about, so absolutely nothing short of a miracle or a contingent of guards would have been able to pry Aragorn away from the twins' sides.   
  
The word "guards" brought his attention sharply back to the situation at hand, and he looked up, searching the room where more people than he had thought would fit into the rather small space hastened back and forth. Finally he spotted Laenro in one of the corners, who was sitting on a chair someone had apparently rather hastily pulled up judging by the way the worn carpet on the floor next to it was bunched up around its feet.   
  
The elven prince made his way over to the brown haired man as quickly as he could, and when he came to a stop next to him, he didn't have to ask what had gone wrong. The answer was written on the young human's chalky white face as plainly as if someone had painted it on his forehead in black ink.   
  
"Ethoani?" he asked the cloaked man standing next to the chair.   
  
The man turned to look at him, and Legolas remembered his name now that his face was plain to see. It was Sero, Laenro's grey haired second-in-command, on whose face deep sadness and a barely hidden horror could be seen. He merely shook his head, his eyes returning to the face of the disconcertingly quiet man in front of him.   
  
Legolas gritted his teeth, feeling how a wave of guilt slammed through him. He should have kept that foolish girl back, he shouldn't have allowed her to go after the four of them… A moment later, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and raised his chin as he looked back at the grey haired man. He would have liked to leave the two of them to their grief, but if Ethoani had been captured, they were no longer safe here. Guards could appear here any second, and they would take all of them back to the castle. No, he decided darkly, there was no way he would allow anyone to take Aragorn or the twins back to Glamir or Teonvan.   
  
"I am sorry," he began carefully, "but you must tell me what is going on. How did this happen? What about the other two elves?"   
  
Laenro didn't even seem to realise that he was being spoken to and didn't move a muscle. The usually so quick-tempered man's listlessness was something that frightened even Legolas who didn't know him well, and so the elf looked imploringly at the other's second-in-command.   
"Please, Master Sero, I know that this is hard for you, but…"   
  
"Do you?" the man asked darkly and turned to look the elf in the eyes. "Do you really? I have allowed a girl I have known for most of her life to get captured by people to whom I wouldn't even hand over my worst enemy!" He grabbed Legolas' arm and pulled him a little bit away from the white-faced Laenro, a look of sadness and swiftly growing guilt on his face. "Nine years ago, just before they came for him and the boys, I promised their uncle to look after the two of them. I promised not to allow anything to happen to them, and see what happened! She is just a child, for the Gods' sake! Do you know what they'll do to her?"   
  
"Yes," Legolas nodded solemnly. "I do know. I know how you feel, Master Human, truly. I have lost many of those I had sworn to protect, and many a time I had to bring the parents of one of my soldier's the news of their son's death. The promise you speak of honours you, of course, and yet you know as well as I do that it was a vow you could not keep. You cannot protect someone forever, no matter how much you would want to. Trust me, I know."   
  
"That mustn't deter you from trying," Sero shook his head stubbornly. "And I tried nothing! She simply stayed there to distract the guards and give at least two of them the chance of escape, and where was I? Where were we?"   
  
"Where you had to be," the elf interjected softly. "She knew the risks, she told me that more than once. What we need to do now is to find a way to free her."   
  
A hollow laugh sounded behind them, and the two of them turned around, looking at Laenro who had raised his head, his eyes wide and devoid of everything but shock, fear and anger.   
"Free her?" He shook his head. "You do not know what you are talking about, elf. You understand nothing!" The young man slowly rose to his feet. "She is already as good as dead, and so are your friends! Not even someone on the inside could help us now! She is going to die, and we and everything we dreamed of and hoped for will die with her!"   
  
"I refuse to accept that," Legolas shook his head, ignoring a small voice inside of him that was telling him insistently that now was probably not a good time to argue with the man. "There has to be something we can do! We cannot simply leave them there!"   
  
"'We'?" Laenro repeated, his shock slowly abating and turning into irrational, all-consuming anger. "'We'? We and what army?" He made a sweeping motion with his arm, inviting the elf to take a closer look at their surroundings. "Look around you, Master Elf! There are perhaps six or seven dozen more men who are on our side, but other than that, this is it! This is all we have! A hundred men, three half-dead elves and a half-dead ranger! I am sure Girion will have a good long laugh before he orders his men to slaughter all of us – and our families!"   
  
"There is always a way," the elf protested darkly. "I am not prepared to abandon my fr…"   
  
"Do you think that I _want _to abandon my sister?!" Laenro hissed and took a step closer to Legolas. "Do you believe that I want to watch her be executed in a week or two, that I want to look at her for the last time and see only a broken shell? Do you believe I want to leave her to a fate worse than the death that will claim her in the end? Do you really believe that? I _want _to do nothing of that sort! I want to save her, I want to do something, anything, but the truth is that there is _nothing _I can do! Nothing! Not for her, not for you, not for any of us!"   
  
For quite a long time, elf and man stared at each other, Laenro managing to produce quite a fierce glare himself even though he could naturally not compare to Legolas' elven stare of anger and disapproval, and finally Sero decided that it was time to interfere before the two of them began to burn holes into each other with their eyes.   
  
"The much more pressing problem is where to go," he quickly said and tried not to wince when the elf and Laenro stopped glaring at each other and started glaring at him instead. "She knows this house. No matter what we do, we cannot stay here."   
  
"Yes, we can," Laenro shook his head.   
  
"Laenro," the older man protested patiently, "You know I am right. I know she is strong, but no one lasts longer than…"   
  
"You heard me, Sero," Laenro ground out between gritted teeth. "I know that she knows this house, and I also know that, eventually, she will talk, but if we evacuate now, we risk being followed to the new house. I do not trust this Cendan, and besides, there are too many guards on the streets right now, you told me so yourself. There is no way we can get the elves out of here without getting caught, and that is something _you _know."   
  
Sero looked at the younger man, sadness in his eyes, before he slowly nodded his head in reluctant acquiescence.   
"Alright," he said slowly. "Then we stay for now. And then?"   
  
"I don't know!" Laenro snapped, his temper once again threatening to erupt into a storm of fury. "I just don't know! We lost control over this situation a long time ago!" he took a deep breath and obviously worked hard to regain control over his emotions. "Inform the other cells that they must not, under no circumstances, come here or try to make contact with us, do you understand me? We may not be able to leave, but there is absolutely no way we will drag more men than necessary down with us."   
  
Sero nodded.   
"Agreed. But the messengers have to leave now; the guards are still in the other part of the city chasing the ox. As soon as people start going to work and opening shops, they'll be back on the streets and might start stopping people at random. We can't risk that."   
  
Laenro nodded as well and motioned at two other men who merely inclined their heads themselves and disappeared out of the door, a sliver of early morning light dancing over the floorboards before the door was closed again.   
  
He turned back to Sero and the elf, who had stopped glaring at the two humans and was starting to look slightly confused.   
"Excuse me," Legolas said, looking at the grey haired man half-incredulously and half-anxiously. "Did you say they were chasing an _ox_?"   
  
Sero gave a short laugh and nodded into the two elven twins' direction.   
"A mighty big one, too! One of these two lunatics thought it would be amusing to let loose the wild ox one of the chieftains has given to Girion as a gift. It very nearly gutted all of us!!"   
  
"It was … a calculated … risk," a weak voice behind them announced. "And it worked, didn't … it?"   
  
Aragorn looked up from the hole in the younger twin's upper leg, some of the worry and tension on his face giving way to joy.   
"Elrohir!" he breathed, a look of intense relief on his face. "Don't move. Your little bovine friend wasn't too fond of you, was he?"   
  
For a moment, the dark haired elf merely stared at the young ranger's slightly blurry face, apparently trying to remember something. When Aragorn was already starting to get worried, Elrohir totally disregarded the man's earlier words, bolted upright and enveloped his adopted brother in a surprisingly strong hug.   
  
After a heartbeat of surprised paralysis the young man pushed the pain that had flared to life in his own wounds to the side and returned the embrace, clinging to his elven brother in much the same way he had always done when he had woken from a bad dream as a child. He closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar that his brothers had escaped, only to feel guilty immediately when he thought of Celylith and Glorfindel.   
  
Elrohir ignored the light-headedness that was once again threatening to pull him down into unconsciousness and tightened his hold on his little brother. Elladan was lying right next to him, unconscious but alive, and he had even spotted a glimpse of Legolas' long fair hair at the other side of the room. He smiled into the man's dark hair. He was definitely the happiest elf this side of the Western Sea.   
  
His smile broadened as he slowly pulled back, still gripping the man's forearms tightly.   
"Estel," he said slowly, managing to convey more emotions than Aragorn had thought possible in the single word. "You aren't dead."   
  
The young human arched a dark eyebrow and smiled at the elven twin, putting as much reassurance as he could into his voice.   
"No, I am not dead, and neither is Legolas," he told his elven brother in low Elvish and tried to push him back down, doing his best to ignore his body that insistently told him that following that movement and toppling over onto Elrohir's chest was a rather good idea. "We are just fine, and so will you be."   
  
"You are a liar, little brother," Elrohir told the man, still unable to stop smiling. "You are getting better, but you … still don't lie very well. You are not alright."   
  
"Finally someone who is of the same opinion as I am," Legolas' soft voice announced to their left, and a moment later the elven prince carefully lowered himself to his knees next to the two brothers. "Well met, Elrohir. I am returning your brother to you and your kin in the same condition he was in when he arrived in my father's realm three and a half months ago."   
  
"How very thoughtful of you, your Highness," Elrohir whispered softly and reached up to grasp Legolas' hand, quiet joy upon seeing his friend relatively well spreading over his face. "I am sure my father will appreciate your consideration." A thought seemed to strike him and he grasped the prince's hand more tightly, pain flashing over his face as Aragorn once again began to put pressure onto the wound in his thigh. "They … Girion, he knows who you are, my friend. I … I told him your name, and he recognised it. I am sorry, I didn't mean to betray you … we didn't know that he was behind all this, I didn't think…"   
  
"It's alright," Legolas shook his head, finding to his surprise that he meant it. "It's alright, it doesn't matter."   
  
And truly it did not, he thought darkly, trading a look with Aragorn. Girion wouldn't stop searching until he had found them, especially now that the twins had escaped as well. One thing he had to give the man was that he was persistent, and there was no way he would stop the search until his men had recaptured "his" prisoners and those who had helped them escape. That they knew who he was might even be a good thing, he reasoned after a moment. If they knew that he was the Elvenking's son, they would most likely leave Celylith alone.   
  
"I hate to interrupt this," Thesieni's wry voice interrupted the fair haired elf's train of thought, "but we have to get them upstairs. Apart from the fact that it would be hard to explain to anyone why there are two bleeding elves lying in our entrance hall, I need to get him," he nodded at Elladan's slightly shivering form, "somewhere warm. If I am not very much mistaken – and I seriously doubt that I am – they used Glamir's potion on him. We must try to lower his temperature as quickly as possible, but lying on the cold floor won't help matters at all." She turned to Aragorn and the two elves next to him. "And I want to take a look at all of you. Between the three of you, you have got more holes in you than a rabbit hole has exits!"   
  
The humans who had watched the reunion silently and hadn't understood a word that had been spoken automatically began to move to do the female healer's bidding, but just as two men were picking up Elladan and Sero and another human were preparing to help the other twin to his feet, a loud noise caused all of them to jump. A second later it became clear that someone had knocked on the front door, not overly loud, but loud enough to be heard.   
  
Laenro traded a quick look with his grey haired second in command who had let go of Elrohir's arm that he had grasped and shot to his feet, his eyes wide and shocked.   
"Dawn," the older man breathed horrified, giving the light that streamed through the shutters a quick look. "It must be that half-Easterling lieutenant of Girion's."   
  
"Or a contingent of guards with the orders to arrest all of us," Laenro interjected wryly.   
  
"It's him," a young man who came crashing down the stairs affirmed. The young human who couldn't be a day older than sixteen years had to be a sentry the men had posted somewhere on the upper level or the roof, Legolas realised. The boy swallowed quickly and added, "He's alone as far as I can tell."   
  
Legolas carefully stood back to his feet, holding his still-healing side wound through his shirt and vest. It still gave him more trouble than a ten-day-old injury should, something that was beginning to truly annoy him. He watched Aragorn struggle to get up for a few seconds and finally helped him to his feet, almost toppling over himself in the process.   
  
Aragorn exchanged a quick, half-annoyed and half-grateful look with his elven friend and finally turned to Laenro, for the first time really looking at the other man Legolas had told him about. What he saw was a man who was simply in over his head, a man who had just received the worst possible news imaginable and did not know what to do next.   
  
"Let him in," he finally told the slightly older man. "Cendan is no fool; he will know that you helped them escape. If he didn't handed us over to the guards before, he won't do it now either."   
  
'I think,' he added inwardly, trying to come up with even half of the conviction he had put into his voice just now. To be perfectly honest he didn't really understand Cendan, and he was anything but happy to bet his brothers' and Legolas' lives on a feeling.   
  
Laenro narrowed his eyes at the ranger who looked as if the only thing that kept him upright was the elf's arm. He hadn't spoken to him before, but judging from what he was seeing, he was far too much like his elven friend; far more than a man rightly should. He appeared to be assuming that he could tell him what to do, for instance.   
  
Unfortunately, he admitted to himself, he was also right. There was no way to predict what that lieutenant would do if they didn't let him in now; this way they could take the risk to kill him and let his body disappear if worst came to worst. They couldn't back out of this now, for that they were already far too involved. With a small, inward prayer that this was the right thing to do he turned and nodded at Sero, who frowned but obeyed and walked over to the door, one hand on the hilt of his knife.   
  
With one quick movement of his hand the grey haired man pulled the door open, revealing the even-faced, dispassionate figure of Cendan who stood in the doorway, his dark blue eyes sweeping over the man in front of him. Making sure that the lieutenant could see his hand on his dagger Sero stepped to the side and wordlessly invited him to step inside with a curt motion of his hand.   
  
Cendan followed the invitation, apparently not in the least impressed by the other's threatening gesture or the sound of the door that was swung shut and locked behind him. The dark haired soldier took the few steps forward into the entrance hall only to come to a sudden stop, a rather unsurprised expression on his face as he took in the sight in front of him.   
  
The young lieutenant raised an amused eyebrow as his eyes travelled over the two elven twins who were in the process of being pulled to their feet, one of them unconscious and the other apparently well on his way to becoming so. Next to them stood the elf and the ranger, both of them looking shaky, bruised and exhausted, and next to them stood Laenro, the owner of this house, who was so pale that he looked almost translucent in the darkened room.   
"I am not coming at an inopportune moment, am I?"   
  
Laenro didn't seem inclined to answer, and so it was the elf who spoke, his voice carefully emotionless and so calm that it surprised even Cendan.   
"No," Legolas said, his eyes not leaving the man's face for a second. "No, not at all. You are just on time."   
  
He traded a quick look with Laenro who jerked his head to the right, into the direction of the adjacent room.   
"Come," he said and steadied Aragorn a little more as he began to steer both of them over to the door to their right. "We have much to talk about, it appears."   
  
Cendan's eyebrow nearly touched his hairline as he followed the two of them, his eyes wandering over the three elves and the ranger – for him a gesture of nearly unparalleled expressiveness.   
  
He couldn't have put it better himself.   


  
  
Girion wasn't angry, no, he truly was not. He wasn't enraged either, nor was furious, irate or wrathful. He was neither of the above, the dark haired lord thought rather calmly (or so he thought), because he was absolutely, totally and undoubtedly beside himself with a fury so fierce and choking that there wasn't even a word in this world – or the next, for that matter – to describe it.   
  
In truth, he couldn't remember having ever been this amazingly mad before, and right now he wasn't in the mood to try and think about it any more than he had to. He tried to take some slow, even breaths to combat the ever-growing rage inside of him, something that failed to show any effects whatsoever. In a deceptively calm movement he finally turned slowly around, his back dimming the bright morning light that streamed through the open window.   
  
In front of him stood a man in a costly, embroidered robe of pale grey that must have cost the equivalent of several peasant families' yearly incomes. Right now, however, he looked more than ready to swap places with the lowliest peasant he could think of, at least judging by the expression on his face that could only be described as absolutely terrified.   
  
Girion growled inwardly, debating how much damage to his position in the war council he would do if he just gave in to the overpowering urge to kill someone, preferably this man standing in front of him. Quite a lot, he finally concluded, his face darkening even further. The councilman in question was from one of the most influential families of Baredlen, and should he kill him now, his kin would most likely be very displeased.   
  
And this was, he thought angrily, most likely the reason the man had been selected to bring him this latest bit of horrible news. If he had been in a better mood, he might even have been a little bit amused about his councilmen's scheming, but right now he was most definitely not in a good mood – or even in a passable one, for that matter.   
  
"Let me summarise this," he said slowly, in such a menacing, dark tone of voice that the man wearing the grey robes cringed openly. "You are trying to tell me that two of them escaped, even despite all your precautions and despite the assurances you gave me? Are you trying to tell me that all we have is one girl, a girl who managed to fool our guards for the second time for that matter, two escaped prisoners and two dozen dead guards that got on the wrong side of an _ox_??"   
  
The man didn't answer and merely dropped his eyes to the floor, and that was enough for Girion to finally lose his temper.   
  
"Answer me, man!" he all but shouted, such all-consuming fury on his face that not even the councilman who had served him for many years remained unaffected. "Is that what you are trying to tell me?? If it is, I swear by all the Gods above that someone will have to pay for this, and I cannot think of anyone better than you and your esteemed colleagues who are continuously underestimating the Firstborn! If you know what is good for you, you will explain all this to me, because I'll personally make sure that you regret it if you don't, do you understand me?"   
  
The man in front of him raised his head with an obvious act of will, his eyes darting nervously about his lord's office that was dark and ominous even despite the glorious day that was dawning outside.   
"Yes, my lord," he said softly. "That is exactly what I wanted to say."   
  
"Then," Girion hissed, his face the colour of sunburnt bricks now, "you will certainly not mind if I seize your family assets and have you executed for dereliction of duty?"   
  
"If it pleases you, my lord," the man said subserviently. "The problem, however, will not cease to exist, I fear."   
  
"And that is the only reason why I will not do it, no matter how much I would wish to," Girion retorted darkly, obviously still working hard on not losing his temper completely. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear: One more mistake on your or colleagues' part and I will not hesitate to do what I just said and have all of you – and your families – publicly executed. Is that understood?"   
  
"Yes, my lord," the councilman nodded, and added, emboldened by the fact that Girion hadn't killed him already, "What are your orders, sir? How do you wish us to proceed?"   
  
Girion's face darkened again, something that sent the councilman into something very close to a panic. That was indeed a good and valid question, Girion thought, which didn't mean that the fact that that question had been asked had pleased him. He wasn't accustomed to feeling unsure and to not knowing what to do, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he couldn't answer that question.   
  
He turned back around to the window to mask his sudden uncertainty. Indeed, how did he wish them to proceed? With an enormous act of will, he forced himself to relax and view the situation with at least a part of his usual calmness and composure. After a few moments he turned back and looked at his councilman, an indifferent mask firmly attached to his face.   
  
"The girl," he began. "Who is she?"   
  
"We do not know," the other man shook his head. "She worked here in the castle as a chambermaid for at least half a year, but the name she gave the steward when she was employed is false, and so is her family name and the address she provided. Not one of the servants seems to know anything about her; it appears that she kept to herself."   
  
"What a surprise," the dark haired man said acidly. "And here I had expected her to give us her real name and a map pointing directly to her accomplices."   
  
For a moment, the councilman apparently didn't really know whether or not he should acknowledge his lord's words in any way, but then he apparently decided against it.

"Well, my lord, she refuses to tell us anything ever since she was caught at the passage's entrance. Master Glamir asks for guidelines as to which methods of … persuasion he is to employ to change that rather reprehensible attitude."   
  
"Whatever means he deems necessary," Girion answered curtly. "I want to know who she is, who her contacts are and everything else she knows about this annoying, ridiculous resistance movement, and I don't care in the slightest what Glamir has to do to find out. All I want is that there is enough left of her to execute; it appears that the people need a reminder of who is in charge of this city, after all."   
  
"As you command," the man bowed his head, feeling not an ounce of sympathy for the young woman who was sitting in a cell in the dungeon right now. Whoever rebelled against their lord was a fool and deserved whatever he or she got. "Then there is still the problem of the elves, of course…"   
  
"I want them," Girion hissed, a dark gleam in his eyes as he unconsciously took a step forward. "I will hold you and the war council personally responsible if you do not manage to find them. I will allow neither those twins nor the Elvenking's son to escape, is that clear?" He stepped even closer to the councilman who merely stared at him with wide eyes. "I don't care what you have to do, but I want them, understood?!"   
  
"Understood, my lord," the man answered promptly. "I originally meant the other two though, the two the girl didn't manage to free. Master Glamir reported that he had a session with the one from Mirkwood this night, who was, just like his prince before him, most uncooperative. He says that he will need far more time to extract any useful information."   
  
"I see," the dark-clad lord nodded. "You can tell Glamir that he can do what he wants, but he must not damage him permanently. In case you and the dear Captain Teonvan fail me again and the other elves are not found, he is all we have. As for the other elf, I don't care what Glamir does with him. He might know something interesting, and…"   
  
At this point Girion interrupted himself, swivelling round to the door. The other man turned just in time to see a clearly terrified servant poke her head through the gap between the opening door and the doorframe, an expression on her face that clearly bespoke of her firm conviction that she would not see the next day.   
  
"Pardon me, my lord," she said so softly that it was almost impossible to make out the words. "Lord Sangwar is outside and is asking for an audience. He said his business is most urgent." Girion's face darkened like the sky before a storm broke loose, and so she added in an even softer voice, "There is also a delegation from the Easterlings coming to the city which will arrive here in an hour. They also ask to see you as soon as possible."   
  
The councilman ducked his head and sent a quick but very urgent prayer to the Gods to grant him invisibility, at least for the time it would take him to get out of this room. If there was one thing his lord didn't like, it was to be "asked" for an audience when everyone knew that the petition was more of a request, and everyone in his service had learned quickly that it was never wise to be in his company at such a time. This time, however, he could understand his lord completely. To negotiate with the Easterlings was never easy or enjoyable, and if they had heard about the small security problems they'd had lately, they would undoubtedly consider it a sign of weakness. Everyone knew how the Easterlings treated people whom they perceived to be weak and easy targets.   
  
Through Girion's head shot much the same thoughts, coupled with the sudden realisation that he had never wanted to see Sangwar again. He didn't like Lord Súliat's envoys, he didn't like them at all, and the almost mocking expression in Sangwar's eyes and his less than subservient nature had more than once almost been enough to make him lose his temper. He growled inwardly. The last thing he needed now was to lose his temper and kill his mysterious benefactor's delegates, something he wasn't entirely sure he could prevent in his current mood, especially if Sangwar had his young, self-important colleague with him. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to have both delegates' heads adorn the spikes of his drawbridge. Although he would, he thought wryly, settle for young Halyo's head if he absolutely had to, even though he would prefer both.   
  
He shook his head quickly and glowered at the servant girl who tried to bow her head even more in response.   
"Show him in."   
  
The girl curtsied and vanished without a word, and Girion turned to his councilman who had done a good job blending into the dark wall panelling these past few seconds.   
"You may go. Inform Captain Teonvan that I wish to see him as soon as the Easterlings' delegation has left, and remind Glamir that I want answers from the girl."   
  
"Yes, my lord," the other man bowed and quickly walked over to the door.   
  
He hesitated on the threshold, obviously contemplating whether or not it would be worth it to bother his lord again, but then he finally turned around to Girion, an apprehensive expression on his face.   
"Forgive me, sir, but what about the elves? Your orders regarding the Mirkwood elf are clear, but what about the other one, the one from beyond the Misty Mountains?"   
  
Girion hesitated a moment before answering, a calculating look flittering over his face.   
"Ah yes, the one with the old eyes…" he muttered thoughtfully. "Don't kill him," he finally decided. "Tell Glamir he can vent his anger on him if he wants to, but he must not kill him. I think he could be useful yet. I don't care in what condition he will be in, but I want him to be kept alive for the next few days."   
  
The other man bowed his head, mumbled an affirmative and turned around, only to very nearly collide with Lord Súliat's delegate who was just being led into the room by the servant girl. The older man merely arched an amused eyebrow at the other's stammered apology and watched how he and the servant quickly left the room and closed the door behind them. A moment later he turned around to Girion and gave him a quick bow that was respectful enough and yet appeared somewhat condescending.   
  
"My lord," Sangwar said quietly. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."   
  
"It is something you may accredit to the high esteem in which I hold the treaty between your lord and myself," Girion informed the older man coldly. "I am, however, rather busy at the moment, and would therefore greatly appreciate it if you would not waste my time with trivialities or time-consuming pleasantries."   
  
"As you wish, my lord," Sangwar nodded his head. "I am merely concerned and came here in the hopes that you could put my mind at ease."   
  
"Concerned?" the dark haired man repeated as if greatly surprised and sat down behind his desk, motioning the delegate to do the same. "What about?"   
  
"About things that have been happening in your city recently, my lord," the older man retorted, apparently choosing his words with great care. "I understand there have been some problems with some elves, yes?"   
  
That statement was about as close as a diplomat ever came to saying "I told you so", which was something that was fortunately lost on Girion. The dark-clad man merely stared at Sangwar with expressionless eyes, nothing but calm disinterest on his face.  
  
"To say that there were problems would overstate the matter," he said dismissively. "There have been some incidents involving some elves, yes, but there is nothing I or my men could not handle."   
  
"Undoubtedly, Lord Girion," the older man nodded politely, the unidentifiable sparkle once again in his eyes. It was a sparkle that seemed to say that there was much the other man did not know, as if he were a child that did not understand a game adults played and yet thought he did. "I never meant to insinuate that there were."   
  
"Good," Girion informed him dispassionately. "Because if you _were _insinuating any such thing, I would be most displeased and would most likely see it fit to terminate the treaty with your lord in the manner we already discussed a few days ago."   
  
"Then it is most fortunate we understand each other, my lord," Sangwar said smoothly, showing no indication that he was impressed in any way by the other's barely veiled threat. "Yet from what I hear, the … incidents were rather inconvenient indeed. Four prisoners have escaped now, have they not?"   
  
For a moment, Girion literally saw red. The way in which this man reminded him of his mistakes was almost too much to bear, and if he didn't need his lord's money so much, especially considering the way the Easterlings were beginning to get uneasy, he would have killed him, right here, right now.   
  
"You are remarkably well informed, my Lord Sangwar," he ground out between gritted teeth, fighting the urge to jump to his feet in sudden fury. "I have been informed about the third and fourth escape only less than an hour ago myself; how did you find out about it so quickly?"   
  
"You can hear many things in a place as big as this one, my lord," Sangwar said modestly.   
  
"Indeed?" Girion raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Is that what your young companion is doing, sneaking through the corridors of my castle and listening at closed doors? Is that why he is not here now?"   
  
"Neither Lord Halyo nor I would ever do something that so blatantly jeopardised our lord's treaty with you," the envoy shook his head seriously. "Lord Halyo is at the moment preparing a report to our Lord Súliat. What should I have him write, my lord? That everything is going according to plan, or that there will be some more … incidents?"   
  
Girion did jump to his feet this time, a dark, furious gleam in his eyes. How dare this man speak to him like this, how dare he demand answers from him in such a manner!   
  
"You forget your place, delegate," he hissed. "Your lord may tolerate it if you speak to him in such a manner, but I most certainly will not! This is no business of yours, and if you and your companion cannot stop poking your noses into things that do not concern you, I will see to it that they are removed along with the rest of your heads!"   
  
"I respectfully disagree, my lord," Sangwar retorted, unmoved by the younger man's outburst. He merely leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the other's. "This does concern me, for whatever concerns my lord, concerns me. Lord Súliat is not a patient man, and, as you well know, is not someone who tolerates failure and wilful neglect of his affairs. In this case, his affairs are being represented by Lord Halyo and myself, and in the capacity of my lord's representative I ask you again: What shall I tell him?" He rose to his feet, his eyes boring into Girion's dark ones. "That everything is well and as it should be – or that you cannot control your own city?"   
  
For a moment, the larger part of Girion wanted to throw caution, reason and this confounded treaty out of the window and to do what all his instincts wanted him to: To draw his knife and slit this insolent, infuriating man's throat from one ear to the other. After what felt like an eternity he slowly and very, very deliberately unclenched his fists and took a step backwards, working very hard on regaining control over his temper.   
  
"What you tell your lord in your reports is not even of the remotest interest to me," he said slowly, the fiery expression in his eyes belying his words. "I can assure you, however, that I am in full control of the situation – and this city. The elves will be found, and even if they are not, it is of no importance. I still have two others, and besides, their co-operation has always been like an added bonus, not a vital part of my plans. Nothing will jeopardise this operation, and we will proceed as planned. There is nothing you – or your lord – would have to worry about, I give you my word."   
  
"I am most relieved to hear that, my lord," Sangwar nodded his head, his body relaxing considerably. His eyes, however, remained hard and alert, and he did neither look convinced nor particularly relieved. "What about your … allies, my lord? I know you convinced them to put aside their differences to serve you, but…"   
  
"They will do as they're told, as long as I promise them money, fame and glory – and the deaths of those they have hated since their ancestors turned on the Elves in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, of course," Girion said dismissively. "I will inform them, just like yourself, that I am in charge here – and that everything is going according to plan."   
  
"That is all I wanted to hear," the older man said, giving him a small bow. "They are a dishonest, untrustworthy people."   
  
Girion merely stared at him in a way that would have impressed most people, but failed to show any effects whatsoever on Sangwar. His own lord, the older man mused, was far more adept at glaring at people or instilling fear in them with a single look. He was also far more dangerous than this uncontrolled, irrational man who thought that mindless terror could secure someone's rule over a city. He and his liege knew better, of course. You needed to take other things than the satisfaction of your immediate need for revenge and the urge to kill into consideration, and that was something this young, rash upstart would probably never understand.   
  
The envoy inclined his head in what could be construed as a respectful way, having decided that he had found out what he had wanted to know: That the situation wasn't nearly as completely under control as everybody in the castle was led to believe. These elves were beginning to pose a rather serious security risk that would undoubtedly also been viewed as such by the Easterlings. And where the Easterlings perceived a weakness, they struck. Sangwar frowned inwardly. He was beginning to consider the possibility that they would fail in their endeavour, and that he and Halyo would need to leave this city quickly rather sooner than later.   
  
"My lord," he said when he had straightened up again, "I will leave you to your councils then. I do not want to intrude on you any longer than absolutely necessary."   
  
Girion nodded curtly which Sangwar took as a dismissal, but when the older man had already reached the dark wooden door, the dark haired lord's voice halted him in his tracks.   
"One last thing, my Lord Sangwar."   
  
The delegate turned around, and Girion gave him a cold, menacing smile that would have impressed even the Dark Lord himself.   
"If you ever," he said slowly, carefully accentuating every single word, "_ever _speak to me in such a manner again, I will have your head and that of your companion decorate the highest tower of my castle, treaty or no treaty. Have I made myself clear?"   
  
"As the finest Gondorian crystal, my lord," Sangwar retorted with a matching smile that did not betray any of his true emotions, and with another small bow he opened the door and soundlessly disappeared out of the room.   
  
For long moments, Girion stared at the closed door, anger and hatred warring inside his chest. A few moments later he walked over to the door and pulled it open in one quick movement, nearly giving the guards standing left and right of it a heart attack.   
"Get me the council," he ordered curtly. "All of them, and all the captains you can find. Those who aren't here in fifteen minutes will regret it dearly."   
  
One of the two soldiers stammered a shocked affirmative, turned around and rushed down the corridor while the other remained where he was, apparently hoping to melt into the wall. His lord didn't pay him any attention however and merely closed the door again with a loud bang, totally oblivious to the soldier's fearful thoughts.   
  
He slowly walked over to the window, watching the soldiers and servants that hastened to and fro below him. The army's departure was drawing ever closer, and everything would have to be ready in four days, as everybody knew. To incur their lord's wrath in a time like this was certainly not a good idea.   
  
There was one important thing he had realised during this rather unpleasant conversation, Girion thought darkly as he watched the courtyard below. His "allies" were getting restless, impatient and concerned, and if Lord Súliat's envoy was acting like this, he could very well imagine what the Easterlings' delegation would have to say when they arrived here in less than an hour.   
  
Girion growled darkly. He wouldn't let the Elvenking's brat ruin everything now, especially since it was no longer just about taking back what should have been his and his family's. He was long past the point where he could still have turned back, and he would have to follow the road he had chosen, or it would mean his certain death. He was aware that he was running out of time, both to find the prince and the other elves and to demonstrate to everyone in- and outside this city who was in control here.   
  
A demonstration, he nodded to himself, yes, that was what would be needed. The people needed a reminder of who was lord of this place and what the price of rebellion was, it appeared, and he was just in the right mood to grant them their wish.   
  
He was tired of chasing these elusive elves. He would make them come to him, and they would be just in time to watch their friends die.   


  
  
Celylith opened and closed his eyes for the seventh time in a row, frowning heavily while he did so. He was beginning to realise that his initial suspicion was indeed correct: It truly made not even the slightest difference whether his eyes were open or not.   
  
Accepting this fact with a tired sigh, the silver haired elf slowly and carefully began to push himself into a sitting position, moving with the speed of a sluggish snail more for Lord Glorfindel's than for his own sake. He smiled inwardly. Up until now, he had always blamed Estel's and the twins' over-protective nature on their father, but now he was beginning to suspect that the golden haired elf lord had something to do with it as well.   
  
The Silvan elf inched backwards until his bruised back hit the wall and leaned his head against the cool stones, carefully cradling his injured right hand to his chest. Even though – or maybe because – Lord Glorfindel had bound it while he had been sleeping, it throbbed almost unbearably in a steady rhythm with his own heartbeat, confirming what both of them had suspected from the beginning, namely that at least some of the bones had not been merely dislocated, but rather broken.   
  
Dark, choking fear began to gather around his heart, and Celylith ruthlessly pushed it back down. There was too little light here to see properly, even for an elf, and so he could only hope that his companion had managed to straighten the fingers correctly in the increasingly dim light their own bodies produced. He wouldn't think about the alternative, he told himself firmly, he – would – not. He could very well remember the one captain he had known many hundred years ago, the one who had nearly lost an arm to an attacking warg. He had never regained full control over it again, no matter what the healers did, and had in the end left for the Undying Lands in bitterness and grief. And then there was Legolas' arm of course which had never healed properly, and who knew, maybe it never would now. For all he knew his friend was dead or recaptured by now, for all he knew he could already be gone and…   
  
"Brooding never helped anyone achieve anything," a quiet voice to his left remarked softly. "Or is this your way of telling me that you want to hear more about the dashingly handsome, golden haired warrior, young one?"   
  
Celylith's dark thoughts were chased away as if they had never existed and he smiled broadly, even forgetting about the pain in his hand and the rest of his body. He was very sure the elf lord would know a lot more stories about the dashingly handsome warrior, and even though he had slept only a few hours, he was more than willing to hear more so soon after having heard the first, very amusing tale.   
"Is there more you can tell me, my lord?"   
  
"Oh, indeed," Glorfindel grinned, glad to see that he had brought the younger elf out of the dark, pained silence that had surrounded him ever since he had awoken. "The warrior in question performed many great deeds and slew many foul beasts. There are a lot of exciting tales to be told."   
  
"I see," Celylith smiled slightly. "Then, my lord, do tell me if there are any more involving the Lord Er…, I mean, the evil councilman! Surely he has sought vengeance on the warrior who had humiliated him thus?"   
  
"He may have tried," Glorfindel waved his hand dismissively, "But he was by no means a match for the dashingly handsome warrior. He was also one to bear a grudge for an exceedingly long time. I don't think he has ever forgiven the warrior for writing that … _word _on his forehead, or for the … other thing he did, which was perfectly legitimate and justifiable, by the way."   
  
"How petty of him," the younger elf retorted, the sparkle in his eyes hidden by the darkness that filled the cell. It hadn't taken him long to realise that Lord Glorfindel's evil councilman was Lord Erestor, and the mere idea of the usually so imposing, regal Noldorin elf lord with that _word _on his forehead was still enough to send him into waves of suppressed giggling.   
  
"Yes, isn't it?" Glorfindel agreed readily. "I thought so, too."   
  
"What can you expect from a fiend like him, anyway?"   
  
"Exactly!" the golden haired elf lord exclaimed, feeling intensely pleased that Celylith seemed to feel well enough to joke again. He could sense that he was still in quite a lot of pain, but that he was willing to try and ignore it for now was a good sign – at least he thought so. He was no healer, after all, and for all he knew these could also be the signs of an approaching mental breakdown.   
  
Glorfindel decided to be optimistic and that it _was _a good sign and continued, an expression of mock indignation on his face.   
"One really should expect more rationality from a councilman of such great importance and high status, shouldn't one? Really, it was only one little word, which the warrior was more than entitled to writing on his forehead, by all means, and still he acted as if…"   
  
The blond elf interrupted himself at the same moment Celylith sat up a little straighter, both of them hearing the footsteps that were beginning to draw closer to their cell. Glorfindel ignored the pain in his head that had still not truly abated and straightened his back, his eyes fixed on the dark cell door he knew to be only a few feet in front of them. Next to him, Celylith did his best to suppress the fear that once again began to course through him. There was no way he would give these people even more pleasure by showing them that he was afraid of them – or rather afraid of what they could do.   
  
"It will be alright," the golden haired elf lord's voice said soothingly next to him. "It will be alright, _pen-neth_."   
  
Celylith turned to the left, a sarcastic smile on his lips that was barely visible even to elven eyes.   
"Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord, but I disagree. I don't see a way it could."   
  
Yes, the younger elf just might be on to something, Glorfindel admitted to himself. Unless Girion had had a profound change of heart, had decided that he had incarcerated them wrongfully and had, full of remorse, ordered their release, there was truly no way it could ever be alright. And as attractive as that possibility was, it was also highly unlikely. Even if Girion should somehow decide that he didn't need them anymore, he would rather have them killed than allow them to go, that was something both of them knew.   
  
The blond elf's thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when the footsteps came to a halt in front of their cell. A moment later a key was thrust into the lock and turned, and the door opened with a loud, shrill shriek that grated on Glorfindel's sensitive ears. This time he was better prepared for the light that flooded the small space of their cell, and so it took his eyes only moments to adjust to the sudden brightness.   
  
Before he even looked at the shadowy figures in the doorway, he shot a quick look at the elf sitting next to him. In the light that filled the small space the cuts on his cheeks were in even starker contrast to the pale skin that surrounded them, and the young one's eyes were large and dark and full of suppressed fear and pain. Glorfindel forced himself not to speak the words of comfort that were on the tip of his tongue and turned back to the cell's open door, his eyes fixing on a small, thin man that stood there, surrounded by a throng of armed guards.   
  
The elf lord frowned inwardly as he looked at the elderly human, who seemed to be strangely out of place here. He was at least half a head shorter than most of the other men, and with his balding grey hair and scholarly appearance he seemed to fit into these dungeons about as well as a book on proper conduct would have fitted into an orc's hand.   
  
And still a small, cold shiver ran over Glorfindel's back when he looked at the human, a shiver he couldn't really explain. There was something … evil about the man, something malicious that seemed to surround him like a dark cloud. He didn't need to feel Celylith's body stiffen next to him to know who this was, no matter how different he had pictured him in his mind.   
  
"Master Glamir," he said mockingly in a tone of voice that suggested surprise that the man had dared to come here. "What an unexpected pleasure. Please, do come in."   
  
Glamir didn't move a single muscle or show any signs whatsoever that he was intending to comply with the elf's request, not that that surprised Glorfindel, of course. There was no way more than a tenth of the guards standing out there would fit in here, and Glamir would have to be very stupid indeed to come in here alone. No, the blond elf thought darkly as he looked at the calculating brown eyes of the man in front of him. Glamir may be many things, but he was not stupid.   
  
Glamir merely looked at the two elves in front of him, both of them sitting on the narrow cot with their backs to the wall. He had no experience with dealing with their race, but he thought the blond one was older – it was just something in his eyes and the way he carried himself. Both of their faces were dispassionate and showed precious few emotions apart from loathing and contempt, but the blond one seemed to be even less concerned about what was happening to him than his companion.   
  
The man pursed his lips slightly as he weighed his options. He did have quite a lot to do today with three prisoners to interrogate – not that he was complaining, of course. He had been provided with far too few projects of late, and the ones that had been promising to become the most interesting ones like the fair haired elf, his ranger friend or the twin elves had been snatched out of his grasp quicker than he had even been able to start a real interrogation.   
  
He was just coming from the girl's cell, who had proven to be quite headstrong as well. All she had shown them was a deep hatred even he had trouble explaining, and he had left her to the – questionable, admittedly – mercies of the guards. He would come back in a few hours and see if her attitude had changed at all, something he doubted, by the way. Still, he had some free time now, so what should he do? He had very clear orders concerning both elves, but which one should he pick for now?   
  
Glamir looked from the blond elf to his silver haired companion, trying to make up his mind. The way the younger one was trying to protect his right hand and shield it from view was indeed most gratifying to him, as were the perfectly placed cuts on his face and torso. He could very well imagine continuing his work with him, and to have a subject on which he could use all his techniques would be very satisfying as well...   
  
He would have to be careful with him though, he thought darkly; the orders were unambiguous indeed. Glamir's gaze returned to the other elf, and in the moment his cold eyes locked with his bright blue, angry and arrogant eyes, he realised that that was not what he wanted right now. No, the man thought, he was angry, and he wanted to see someone suffer for it. This overbearing, overly proud sparkle had been visible in the dark haired elf's eyes as well, the one who had insulted him and had escaped with his brother. The sting of the elf's words once again flared to life, and hot anger began to boil inside the man. Well, he might not be able to make that one pay for his insolent words, but that didn't mean he couldn't vent his anger about this whole situation!   
  
He turned to the guard to his right and nodded at the blond elf who was watching them with the removed interest he would undoubtedly have shown small, slimy insects.   
"Him."   
  
Neither the guards nor the golden haired elf appeared overly surprised by the curt order, and in a matter of seconds three men had entered the cell, pulled the elf to his feet and began to drag him out of the room. The one person who was exceedingly surprised, however, was Celylith, his mind for a few moments frozen in surprise. These people wanted to know what _he _knew, didn't they, so what good would Lord Glorfindel do them – unless Glamir merely wanted to…   
  
The thought trailed off into nothing, and the younger elf tried to push himself to his feet without even thinking. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid – by the Valar, that he was – but no matter how much Lord Glorfindel saw him as his charge, he was not. He was no child, the Rivendell elf was his king's guest, and he would be damned if he allowed one of his king's guests to get hurt without even trying to prevent it.   
  
He had just managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly back and forth as he realised that someone must have replaced the air with a far denser and heavier substance, and was still thinking about what in the name of the One he could possibly do, when one of the guards stepped forward and smashed his fist into his face with an infuriatingly lazy move. Far sooner than the Silvan elf would have guessed he was back on the cot that was beginning to creak dangerously as his weight was thrown backwards onto it, and for a moment he could concentrate on nothing but the pain that had flared back to life in the reopened cuts on his cheeks. A second later he pushed it back and raised his head again, ready to at least try and show these people that no one attacked a wood-elf unpunished, when the older elf's calm, commanding voice cut through the inexplicably heavy air, halting him in his tracks.   
  
_"Á lemya entassë, nessaquen. Ilqua nauvas máravë."_   
  
Celylith looked up, straight into Lord Glorfindel's serious eyes that looked remarkably unconcerned for a person's who was just being dragged out of a prison cell. The older elf gave him a small smile that was apparently meant to be reassuring, and Celylith allowed his body to relax minutely. He was right; it would help no one if he got himself killed now.   
  
Glamir shook his head disapprovingly at the sound of the foreign language he couldn't understand and motioned at one of the guards next to the door. Before the man could close the door, Celylith smiled sadly and shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the other elf.   
_"Lá, herunya, umin sana sië. Úvas."_   
  
The heavy wooden door swung shut, and Glorfindel felt himself being gripped more tightly and pushed forward, down the dark corridor. Within moments the whole group of soldiers was following Glamir who was already a few feet ahead, and Glorfindel began to realise how wrong he had been.   
  
Celylith was most definitely on to something.  
  
  
  
  
**  
TBC...  
  
  
  
  
**

_mellon nín (S.) - my friend  
pen-neth (S.) - young one  
Á lemya entassë, nessaquen (Q.) - Stay there, young one.  
Ilqua nauvas máravë (Q.) - Everything will be well.  
Lá, herunya, umin sana sië. Úvas (Q.) - No, my lord, I do not think so. It won't.  
  
  
  
  
_**Yes, you guessed it, the next chapter will be the one with the elf lord torture. *large part of readers cheer* You really ARE evil, you know that? Well, apart from that we also have a rather long discussion between Cendan, Laenro, Legolas, Aragorn and about a thousand other people, we see what Cendan does when he loses his temper and much more. It should be here in a week, and I won't tell you that I love reviews because I always do that. *g* **

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**Additional A/N:  
  
Websterans** - LOL, yes, the infamous word returns. Now Celylith knows what it is as well - which doesn't mean I'm going to tell you, sorry. And yes, I know I'm evil and sadistic. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Red Tigress** - Yes, I guess you're right. Poor Aragorn, he is awake, but the rest of his family isn't. *shrugs* Ah well, you can't have everything, I guess... *g* I'm glad I updated too (Boy, I HATE oral exams), and thanks a lot for reviewing despite having so little time!  
**LOTRFaith** - _Of course_ I like Girion. I mean, come on, don't YOU love the villains in books and movies? I like them a lot better than the heroes most of the time, since they are so amazingly noble-stupid. Villains are a lot more fun. I like all my evil guys, except Teonvan. I don't really know why (no, I know _exactly_ why *g*), but I really, really dislike him. And that sounds certainly ... interesting. Yes, that's the term, even though "disgusting" might fit, too. You are indeed bloodthirsty...  
**Nikara** - Yes, he is, isn't he? But I guess that, at least this time, he's righ in a way. I mean, come on, he IS the oldest and SHOULD have known better. Which doesn't really make it his fault, mind you, but... *g* And you're right, it's a good thing the stubborn ranger woke up. Thesieni really is too old for all this... *g*  
**Alisha B** - I am very sure I'll like it! Post it Post it Post it Post it Post it... *trails off* Whenever you can, I mean. I understand completely if you have other things to do... *g* Yes, I try to come up with new injuries, but it's getting harder and harder. That's mostly C&S' fault, of course... *g* You like Glorfindel? Well, join the We-love-Glorfindel-and-like-to-hurt-him-too-Club! I love him myself, he's just perfect! *huggles resisting elven warrior* I am also happy to hear that you like Celylith, of course. He's just a stupid wood-elf, really, but it's always nice to hear people like him. *g* And yes, I most definitely like crazy, but your review wasn't too bad, believe me. It's not in that weird American slang I just don't understand. I really think I need a new dictionary... *g* Thanks for reviewing, I really missed you! *huggles her with her other arm, still not letting go of Glorfindel*  
**Aratfeniel** - I'm sure Celylith would try to rescue the ox if he were up to it. *g* No, that doesn't mean he won't be; I have merely not yet decided. So, he might rescue the ox or he might now. And I think the whole I-forgot-my-dislocated-fingers was supposed to be a joke. Weird Silvan sense of humour, I know. *g*  
**Alasse Tiwele** - Okay, I'll admit that twelve days _are**_ **rather close to two weeks. *hangs head in shame* You're right. I'm glad you're happy to wait two other stories, so that means I can start that meeting story around Christmas this year. *g* At the earliest. And I'm sorry, but I don't like writing children. I'm not too fond of them, and I really couldn't write two stories about their respective childhoods. It would have to be two, I think, considering the age difference... *shudders* No, that wouldn't be too good. I wouldn't even manage one story, sorry. *g*   
**Tgas** - As I said in the A/N, there won't be any, sorry. A few battle wounds or things like that, but no more torture. Sorry. *g*  
**Someone Reading** - Yes, I agree. They're all insane. Poor Glorfindel, someone should have warned him before he agreed to return to Arda... *g* LOL, well, then we should hope that the story doesn't get any better, shouldn't we? I would hate to lose a reviewer because of my writing style... *g* *blinks* Which Maia do you want to call in? I could deal with Saruman, or even Sauron (they like Balrogs), but I don't think Stan and Gandalf would get along very well. You know, all that stuff in Moria and so on... *g*  
**Alariel** - Well, to be perfectly honest the chapter was written before my exams. I just didn't have the time to edit it and all that, but it was already written. Hmm, yes, Ethoani, let's just say that her fate's up to Jack. I wrote the character for her, and she told me what I had to do with her a long time ago. It's not my fault. *g* Yes, I think it would be nice if Glorfindel killed Girion too, but the thing is that I have an awful lot of good guys and only a few villains. I am right now really thinking about who's going to kill whom - it's not easy... *g* Oh, yes, the fire-breathing dragon. I almost forgot about him....  
**Karone Evertree** - As I said in the A/N, the elf was Glorfindel, not Legolas. Personally I wouldn't call Legolas' hair golden anyway, but that's my opinion I guess. I am not obsessed with him anyway... *g* And you're right of course, they're all mad and stupid. But we already knew that, didn't we... *g*  
**Firnsarnien** - No, no, no, it was longer than ten days. Twelve. No more. *g* That's very important, I don't know why, but it is. I am glad you like my "owies" so much, even though I have the feeling that a few certain elves and ranger wouldn't agree. *shrug* What do they know? And yes, you're right, I wouldn't want to be in Glorfindel's or Celylith's shoes either. Poor them. *evil cackle* Oh, don't worry, Ethoani's not dead, not yet anyway. Oops, did I just say that aloud? Sorry... *sheepish grin* Ignore that comment, will you? And the main reason why I won't write 50 chapters is that I would go NUTS!! *g* Evil annoying characters.  
**Bailey** - Hmm, yes, I guess you're right. Aragorn has to be more or less alright if he's already well enough to insult the twins... *g* And I know exactly what you mean, any injury to a finger hurts! I play volleyball, so I've more or less done everything you can to them, including breaks, dislocations and sprains. *g* Yes, they should hurry up and get to the safe house, the only question is though: How safe is the safe house? *evil cackle* Mahahaha, I love making ominous comments...   
**Koriaena** - LOL, yes, it's Thranduil's eyebrow of doom. It's not quite as bad as Elrond's, but close enough I guess... *g* And I have to agree with you and the dear Captain Jack Sparrow: They crossed taht particular line ages ago. *g* Thanks for the review!  
**Celebdil-galad + Tinlaure** - Oh, you have a possessed horse too? Like Rashwe? Well, that's interesting ... I think I would like to meet it... *g* Yes, believe me, there are quite a lot of people (not even counting the characters) who would love to get their hands on Teonvan or his charming lord. I hope your bio paper was okay - I'm sure it was. Give my regards to your horse, and thanks for the review!  
**Crippled Raven** - Yup, I did survive, but it was a near thing. I very nearly died that day... *g* And you won't fail your GCSEs, believe me. Repeat after me: I will be just fine. I will be just fine. I will be just fine. Take a deep breath. Better? *g* No, I hadn't thought so. *g* LOL, so you want a sickening display of noble angst? Well, there's something like that - but not quite as bad, I hope. The twins are unconscious for most of the time, so... *g* Don't allow your worl to bury you completely, and repeat once again: I will be just fine. That's it. *g*  
**Bookworm, .303** - Okay, keep ignoring it. *g* If it's easier for you this way... Well, yes, the Glorfindel torture ... it's not my fault? I promised a lot of people a long time ago, and I can't break a promise, can I? Well, of course I can, but I'm evil and don't want to. *g* But I agree. The twins and Celylith are worse than everything Glamir could ever come up with. Poor Glorfindel. *g*  
**Shauna** - Well, yes, right now she's alright, more or less anyway. That doesn't mean that it will stay that way, of course... *evil grin* And I agree, Legolas and Estel won't be very happy about seeing the twins in that state, even though I have to say that they're not really royalty. They are most definitely Noldorin nobility, but Elrond never claimed the kingship after Gil-galad's death, even though he would have been entitled to it since he was Gil-galad's ... let me think, Turgon and Fingon were brothers, Idril was Turgon's daughter and Eärendil's mother ... Elrond was the son of Gil-galad's second cousin, I think. The last king in Elrond's family (apart from Elros who doesn't really count) was his great-grandfather Turgon and his great-great-grandfather Thingol Greycloak, and I think that, by elven standards and especially considering that there was quite a bit of human blood involved, he doesn't count as royalty anymore. *g* Sorry about that, sometimes I can't stop myself. *g* I'm sorry to hear about your trouble with the internet, but I'm sure your parents will forget about it soon. My mother always did. *g***  
Narina Nightfall** - I won't tell you again not to kidnap Elrohir. You're not listening anyway, it appears… *g* LOL, the TIPCWAOW(OI)LOTR? It definitely sounds interesting – and I know quite a few people who ought to join. *g* My birthday is on the 24th of June, not that it is something you really wanted to know. But I would love to get an ox. It's adorable, isn't it? *huggles ox* And Estel didn't sleep that long, really. It just appeared to be very long since so much happened, but in reality he has only been asleep for little more than a day. Even he might manage that without food. *g* Yes, it's Thranduil's eyebrow of doom, even though it's not quite as bad as Elrond's. Well, I guess it's bad enough. *g* And I really have to protest, the last chapter wasn't 12 days late. It was five days late, since I always need a week to post. *g* I hope your play was alright! No, I'm sure it was, and I hope you had lots of fun!**Tychen **- Yeah, well, everybody is entitled to a bit of angst once in a while, right? Even Glorfindel needs that from time to time – really, he does! *g* He just doesn't realise it yet. And you're absolutely right of course, Aragorn won't be happy to see the twins in the state they're in at the moment. Thank you very much for your very nice and flattering review, as always! *huggles*  
**Firniswin** - Hmm, is that an "Aragorn is awake, good"-comment or an "Aragorn is awake, dammit"-comment? *g* But no, I'm sure you're happy to see everybody's favourite ranger again, so I guess you're happy to see the ox. It's also nice to hear that you liked the ox! I like it too, it's adorable!! *g*  
**Elvendancer** - *g* I guess it' a good thing he's awake, but I think he'll be rather unhappy about his chance to join the Unhappy List. Poor Estel. *evil grin* Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Well, I can answer that for you, I guess. Elrohir is a very, very, VERY insane elf. Three fries short of a Happy Meal. Off his trolley. And so on… *g* Hmm, let me think, is Legolas perky? Well, I guess it's fair to say that he's very relieved and happy to be able to joke with Aragorn again, yes, but I wouldn't say he's perky. Well, at least he's not supposed to be perky. Are you? Legolas: Most definitely not. Elven warriors aren't … perky. There you see. Relieved and behaving a little childish, but not perky. *g* I wish you good luck with your driver's test, I'm sure you'll be alright. The other cars, however… *g*  
**AngelMouse5** - I'll just assume that you're Mouse from Australia. I'm quite sure you are, but just in case you aren't: Listen, I know this one joke about an Aussie, the American and… *trails off* Well, I'll tell you sometime later. *g* I hope you didn't embarrass yourself at work, however, and my exams went very well, thanks a lot. Thanks a lot for the review, I did miss you! If you _are_ Mouse, that is… *g*  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - I agree, they all don't know how to keep your moth shut, but I guess it's somehow connected to being thousands of years older than your captors and knowing perfectly well how much more beautiful and wise and skilled you are. *shrugs* Just an idea. And don't worry, Elrond won't have to send him a letter, he'll just lecture him in person once they get back to Rivendell. IF they get back to Rivendell… *evil grin* Hmm, let me see, who asked me for Glorfindel torture… Well, there's Sabercrazy. Then Trin, Cathy, Alisha, Jera and about a thousand others. Sorry, you're outnumbered. *g* And of course you can borrow Rashwe, as long as you don't kill him (yes, I have become quite fond of him) and put him in the disclaimer. It's nice to hear you like him so much.  
**Iccle Fairy** - *g* I know exactly what you mean. It's lots of fun, actually! *g* And don't worry, in the end they'll all be fine – or will they… *evil cackle* Sorry, I enjoy being evil far too much. Just ignore me. *g*   
**Sadie Elfgirl** - You are right of course, Elrond won't really strangle Glorfindel. He's intelligent to see that there was nothing Glorfindel could really have done to prevent any of what has happened, but … well, I love Glorfindel angst? The possibility of being able to put this into the next story as well was to great for me to resist… LOL, I think I have to agree, even though I would love to see what Legolas would say if Aragorn called him dwarf right after waking up … perhaps I'll use it in another story. *grimaces* Thanks for the plot bunny! The ox can't kill Teonvan, I'm sorry, but that's only because I have too few villains as it is. I need him, sorry. *g*  
**Yuuki Ryuu** - Oh, I know that is turning into my longest story yet. I just can't make them shut up! It's horrible, really, I always feel so helpless… *sighs* Bloody elves and ranger. No, English is not my first language; it's my third, I think. And don't worry, German is a very hard language, or so I've heard. I can't really judge that, of course, but it's supposed to be a lot harder than English, which is quite easy to learn, really. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Strider's Girl** - LOL, I think that "Things are not going well for them" just might be a tiny little understatement… *g* Don't worry about your GCSE's, I'm sure you'll do just fine. I agree though: An exam about the History of Middle-earth or the origins of the Peredhil-family would be far easier… *g*  
**Nietta** - Of course I remember you! It's great to see you again! *huggles* And know perfectly well what you mean, school or college can be horrible! I'm just glad to 'see' you again. Yes, I think Elrohir was in quite a lot of pain, poor little elfsie. *huggles elven twin* Don't worry, you'll feel better in no time… LOL, no, I may be insane, but I'm fair. Everybody has to get tortured, it would be mean to ignore poor Glorfindel. He would probably not agree, but he's no fun at all. *g* I LOVE the idea to give all the elves a chance to kill Teonvan. Would be fun, too. Rather mean, but funny. *g* Yes, they're called spiky toys, but no, they are not meant for target practice. You aren't allowed to throw them at people, sorry. *g* Okay, be that as it may, it's very nice to see you again! Thanks for the review!  
**Salara** - Erst einmal: Ein Begruessungsknuddeln! *knuddelt Salara* Okay, jetzt ist das erledigt, weiter im Text. Frage: Warum brauchst du einen airbaggepufferten Laptop? Hast du deinen etwa runtergeschmissen?*fieses Grinsen* Gegen eine Sammelreview habe ich natuerlich nichts, ist doch klar. Danke vielmals, ich hab' euch echt vermisst! Ich hatte schon angefangen mir Sorgen zu machen, aber die Ankunft eures neusten wunderbaren Kapitels (das ich immer noch reviewen muss *huestel*) hat mich da ja schon beruhigt. *wischt sich Schweiss von der Stirn* Na dann. Es freut mich uebrigens, dass dir Glorfindel so gefaellt. Ich mag ihn ja auch, auch wenn er manchmal etwas unterbelichtet ist. *g* LOL, Teonvan soll an "Koerperpiercings" sterben? Na, das waere doch definitiv mal was neues... Ich werde sehen, was sich machen laesst... *g* ROTFL, Glamir als Shooting Star im"Universum derPsychopathen und Boesewichter"? Junge, ja, so koennte man das fast sagen, nehme ich an... *g* Ich muss allerdings sagen, dass ich zwar noch nicht weiss, was ich mit Cendanletztendlich mache, aber der neue Fuehrer von Baredlen wird er sicher nicht. Wird alles noch klarer im naechsten Kapitel, aber lass' mich einfach sagen, dass die guten Buerger der Stadt "Halbblueter" nicht sonderlich moegen. Ich wollte sie auch nicht zu einseitig-gut darstellen, nech? Und danke fuer den Lexikonartikel. Man kann ihn sicher so interpretieren, v.a. da ja z.B. Éomer, genau genommen, auch nicht ein Koenigssohn war, sondern nur ein Koenigsneffe. Und der hatte doch auch dieses Maeras-Pferd dessen Name mir in meiner unendlichen Verstreutheit entfallen ist, also was fuer Éomer gilt, gilt erst recht fuer Glorfindel.Jawoll. *g* Noch einmal vielen lieben Dank fuer die lange Review!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Well, _I_ didn't do anything to his ego! It was like that when I got my hands on him, honestly! *g* And believe me, I didn't want to make it appear that Glorfindel's ego is ... well, that big; he wasn't entirely serious, after all. It was - more or less, or so I hope - to amuse Celylith and put him at ease. I think. *g* You never know with these reborn living legends, do you?  
**Marbienl** - You? Acting a little crazy? Nooooo.... Please note the sarcastic undertone. *g* You do that as well? Count seconds before you get up, I mean? I do that as well, usually I count to 18 over and over again. Don't ask me why, I guess it's because I like 18 and always want to get up then, but am too lazy in the end after all. *sighs* I'm a horrible person, I know. And did that really happen, with the man and his neighbours? I never knew you Dutch were _that_ crazy... *g* I like it though. It's adorable-crazy, if you know what I mean. Yup, you're right, humans usually would have amputated the hand, I guess. Lucky thing Celylith is not a human, huh? And I'm afraid you won't find out about the word. It's a ... secret! Sorry. *g* And yes, I think I'll write that story next (just like SP last time), but I won't post it until August, that's when your birthday is, correct? And yes, I'm evil. Don't tell me. *g*  
**Snow-Glory** - Hmm, I don't know about that yet. Rashwe might play a part, but I really haven't decided yet. I know, I need to soon, but still… *g* And yes, it's the twins, Legolas will be rather disappointed that Celylith's still there, but I can't say anything about Ethoani, I'm sorry. Right now she's alive, that's something, right? *evil grin* And yes, thank God this story will soon be over. It's beginning to scare me, somehow… *eyes story warily* It has a life of its own, I swear.  
**Zam** - Well, I am most certainly glad that you reacted to reasonably! I was very afraid of what you'd do to me for hurting your husband… *g* And I knew you were behind the sign on Elrohir's back. It was rather obvious, really. LOL, so you'll gut people for a cookie, hmm? Well, I wonder what you'll do for … a whole bag of them??? Mhahahahaha, now I control you!! *g* You have Zam plushies? Well, I want one! Where is it? Where? Never forget, I could kill your husband any time I want! *threatening look* And it's your fault that I think of the ox as "Oswald Spalding"! *points accusingly* All your fault!!  
**Suzi** - OMG! It's a mega-monster-mammoth review! Thanks so much! *huggles* That has got to be the longest review I have ever seen. I'm very, very impressed. And I missed you too. You're my only Scottish reviewer, after all! *g* Thanks for asking, my exams went very well, I was rather surprised myself. No, to be honest, I was VERY surprised. And I can only agree: I hate dentists too. My father is one, so I should know what I'm talking about… *g* Of course Asfaloth is alive! I wouldn't dare hurt him, just imagine what Glorfindel would do to me! *shudders* Nope, I won't hurt the horses, don't worry. LOL, RRS, I see. You might be right, you know, we should definitely check up on Seobryn. *g* Ah, so you've finally caved in as well and started talking to characters. *g* Well, get used to it, mate. I do it all the time… *g* Connor definitely reminds me of Rick in The Mummy. *snickers* It's not stealing, it's _borrowing_… Your weaponry is quite impressive. I especially liked the plastic fork – should definitely come in handy. *g* I love Attila the Hun btw, wasn't he adorable? Really, just a kind, misunderstood person – just like Sauron and Morgoth. Hmm, I'm sorry about Glorfindel, but … well, the part is already written? And I promised it to so many people… *sighs* It's only a little scene, and I won't describe much. I promise, okay? *g* *huggles Glorfindel* Yes, he's so modest, isn't he? Well, I guess being a reborn elf lord and a living legend does that to you… And I know what you mean, Cambridge really does look like Hogwarts, at least parts of it. My mother is still bugging me to apply there as well – as if I had the grades to do that! *shakes head* Really… Well, thanks a lot for the huge review! It was wonderful as always!  
**Smile Neumann** - Yup, you're right, I try to stay as close to canon as possible (except for the whole Arwen-issue, of course *g*), so I won't kill Glorfindel. But I can put him through as much pain and misery as I want! *evil laughter* Great to hear that you like Celylith so much, but I know what you mean. I'm no big fan of OC's either as a rule. *blushes* Thanks so much for all your compliments! I hope you'll like this bit and the rest as well!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Hmm, I wouldn't blame your computer if I were you. I'm pretty sure it was FF.net's fault. Don't ask me why, but it's usually their fault. It ate some of my reviews, too, evil site that it is. And you can't glomp them because they're hurt. You just might glomp them to death… *ominous music* Well, okay, you won't, but it could happen! *g* LOL, I agree, the talking-back-at-your-captors-thing just might be an epidemic! We should warn the rest of ME! *g* It's great to hear that you liked the chapter, thanks a lot for all your reviews!  
**Jera** - Oh, the exams did go well, after oral exams we get the grades right away. It's one small advantage of our system - and the only one, but that's beside the point. *g* And you don't have to explain why you're looking forward to the Glorfindel torture, I know exactly what you mean. *insane grin* I think most of the people here do. I agree btw, I would love to know how to pick a lock. It would be very useful indeed. *sighs* Well, you can't have everything I guess. I hate to say it, but I don't think the ox will escape. They're in the middle of the city, after all, it's night and the gates are all closed. The poor thing doesn't stand a chance, but they won't kill it, don't worry. I guess the guards would be afraid to harm one of their lord's presents. *g* I am very flattered that you forgot that Celylith isn't canon, btw. It's a very nice thing to say, thanks a lot! *huggles* And the rest of Glorfindel's story is in 'Straight Paths', at least more or less. I won't tell you what _the word_ is though, sorry. *g* So it really is impersonation, huh? I thought a long time about it, and my Thesaurus lists personation as a synonym of impersonation, and since my dictionary said the word I wanted was personation... *trails off* Well, I knew it. I admit I watched only a few of the Sharpe-movies (and even liked most of them), but usually I can't stand them. I agree, what PJ did to Faramir was far worse (for starters: Shouldn't both of them have been dark haired??), but I still don't like him. Around here he's only known as "The Bean", usually said in a rather disgusted tone of voice. *g* Your exams sound quite bad - somehow they seem to be worse in England, more pressure or something like that. A few friends of mine are studying in London at the LSE, and they say just the same. *shrugs* It really wasn't all that bad. I'm sorry to hear that you have to wait for a whole week, really I am. *huggles* Btw: I don't like your reviews. Not at all. I LOVE them. *g*

**Well, I hope I got all the reviews, but with the trouble FF.net once again gave me a few days ago, I can't be sure. I hope I didn't miss someone, and if I did, it wasn't my fault, as always! *g* **  
  
  
  



	28. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Well, let's begin with saying that yes, there will be some Glorfindel torture in this. However, (and this is the important part) it will be only a short scene, and a lot less graphic than most of the others I've written. The torture per se isn't even that important this time, maybe you'll see what I mean when you've read that part. Most likely not, though - I am mad, after all. *g*  
  
About Lord Súliat - well, no, we won't meet him, but that's mostly because you all know him already. As I said in the last chapter of THOM: How many evil, really powerful lords bent on the destruction of Arda/the world of Men/whatever are there in the Third Age? Bingo, only two come to mind, and one of them is at the moment rather busy looking for something he calls "precious". Besides, he doesn't have a body, and therefore actual face-to-face meetings with his underlings would be rather hard. So, whoever can tell me who the evil overlord is gets a Cendan/Celylith/Girion/Teonvan clone - it really shouldn't be too hard now, should it? *g*  
  
Oh, and one last thing: Girion won't mind that Cendan isn't attending the meeting he called, in fact he would have been rather displeased if he had, I think. He wanted the war council and the _captains_ - as you'll remember, Cendan is merely a lieutenant. So nobody will notice his absence, which is a good thing really because without him the whole thing wouldn't work and everyone would die gruesome, horrible deaths. *g*   
**  
  
**Alright, so here's the next chapter, in which the good guys finally plan their next move - about time, I know. Other than that, Cendan loses his temper for a moment or two and tells us more about his family history, we have a little elf lord torture, yes, and the august tradition of sneaking through dark houses is once again revived. Surprise, surprise. *g*  
  
Have fun and review, please**

* * *

  
  
Chapter 28  
  
  
The whole situation would have been laughable if it hadn't been so serious, Aragorn decided rather darkly.   
  
On the one side of the roughly carved wooden table sat Laenro and Sero, both of them glaring darkly at Cendan who was sitting across them and didn't appear to be bothered by it in the slightest. The young dark haired lieutenant might just as well have been sitting in a cosy tavern enjoying a tankard of ale with a couple of friends, at least judging by his absolutely unconcerned expression.   
  
On the third side of the table were Legolas and he, sitting on rather comfortable chairs – which was probably quite a good thing too, the young man thought with amusement. If they hadn't been sitting and had been forced to stand, Aragorn was rather sure they would both have collapsed after a few moments, or at least he would have. He was beginning to suspect, however, that Legolas wasn't nearly as healthy as he wanted him to believe either, and as soon as he could he would force that stubborn elf to sit down and have a look at him. He shook his head inwardly. Legolas could be so incredibly stubborn at times…   
  
His thoughts were drawn back to the present when Sero shifted slightly in his chair, his eyes never leaving Cendan's face. All in all, the ranger thought to himself, this whole situation reminded him strongly of the behaviour of three wolves before they charged at each other. The two parties at the table were watching each other suspiciously, searching for any signs of insecurity or any other weakness.   
  
Next to him, Legolas had just come to the same conclusion, and he decided in a split second that he had neither the time nor the desire to sit here all morning and watch Laenro, his second-in-command and Cendan stare at each other. He waited for another moment, hoping that one of the three men would finally show some small sign of maturity and willingness to start speaking, but it became quickly apparent that that wouldn't happen any time soon. Cendan seemed perfectly happy just to sit on his chair and stare emotionlessly at the other two men, while Laenro was apparently far too angry to say anything.   
  
With a small internal sigh Legolas shook his head and fixed his eyes on Cendan, who turned and looked at him under the force of a fierce elven stare.   
"Are they still alive?"   
  
He did not elaborate on what he meant, not that he would have needed to. Cendan knew perfectly well what he was talking about.   
"Yes," the man said curtly and inclined his head the tiniest bit.   
  
Both Legolas and his human friend tried not to react too openly, but the relief that flooded through them was plain to see for everyone who took a closer look at them.   
"All of them?" Aragorn added a second later.   
  
"Yes," Cendan repeated emotionlessly. "The girl is being interrogated at the moment, and one of the elves as well, I guess. Which one, I do not know, but I guess Glamir picked the older one this time. He had a … session with the silver haired one last night."   
  
This time, Legolas' and Aragorn's faces lost all colour, as did Sero's and Laenro's. The elven prince regained the ability to speak first and glared at Cendan, who returned the look remarkably evenly for one of the Second People.   
"What has he done to him?" the elf all but hissed, silver-blue eyes fixing on dark blue ones.   
  
"I have no idea," Cendan shrugged nonchalantly. "My men and I are not assigned to the dungeons and are trying to keep away from them as far as humanly possible."   
  
"You are not what you seem," Legolas answered coldly. "You have far more connections than one would expect from a simple lieutenant. Take a guess."   
  
"That may be," the young man answered in an equally cold voice, neither denying nor confirming what he elf had just said, "But the fact remains that I do not know. Other than the dear Captain Teonvan Glamir does not like to boast about his work. But," he added after a moment when Legolas merely continued to glare at him, "I do not think you should be overly worried yet – at least not about your friends. Girion won't allow them to be killed right now, not even the blond one. That girl, however, is an entirely different story."   
  
"Careful, half-breed," Laenro interjected darkly, apparently only one step away from lunging at the dark haired lieutenant. "It is my sister you are talking about."   
  
If Cendan was in any way affected or hurt by the insult, he did not show it. He merely turned to the brown haired man, a scornful look on his face.   
"Is that so?" he asked. "Well, then you are at least as much to blame as she is. You are a fool to have sent her to the castle; it is a miracle that the two twin elves escaped. She was doomed the moment she set foot into the dungeons – doomed by her own actions and doomed by your instructions."   
  
Before Cendan could say more, Laenro shot to his feet, and only Sero's restraining hand on his arm stopped him from lunging at the other man.   
"I did not _order _or _instruct _her to do anything!" Laenro spat at the lieutenant. "She did what she did out of her own free will, and she fooled the guards for more than six months! Say something like this again and I'll rip out your heart and feed it to the dogs!"   
  
Cendan looked at the man in front of him, apparently anything but impressed, and abruptly stood to his feet, about to turn around and leave.   
"I see I am wasting my time," he said to no one in particular. "You have nothing I could possibly need or want."   
  
He turned on his heel and began to walk over to the door, but stopped after a few steps when two of Laenro's men entered the room, who had obviously been alarmed by the raised voices and the sound of footsteps. The two humans positioned themselves in the doorway, making it very clear that they did not intend to let anyone pass without explicit orders. Cendan looked at them for a moment and turned back around, an eyebrow arched in faint amusement.   
"You mean to keep me here?"   
  
"That depends," Laenro retorted, his face still contorted with rage. "You either stay voluntarily or we'll kill you. You didn't expect us to let you leave just like that, did you?"   
  
Cendan merely shook his head, the eyebrow arching a little higher.   
"By all means, no," he answered evenly. "And that is the reason why I left my second with the very clear instructions that he is to inform Teonvan of where I am and whom I went to see should I not be back in the castle in two hours."   
  
"That would mean your death," Sero interjected. "To be found in the company of rebels and escaped prisoners means death, and you know it."   
  
"Aye, I would die," the dark haired man nodded dispassionately. "But so would you."   
  
For a moment, it was completely silent, but then Laenro shook his head.   
"You are bluffing."   
  
"I am not," Cendan merely said. "If you do not believe me, ask them." He nodded into Aragorn's and Legolas' direction. "They can tell you that I do not bluff."   
  
Neither of the two friends said anything, and for quite some time not one of the people in the room said anything. Finally Legolas nodded slowly, as if he had discovered something in Cendan's eyes, something he had been looking for.   
"You are not bluffing," he confirmed quietly, "But you won't leave either. You need our help as much as we need yours."   
  
"Whatever for?" Cendan asked, apparently greatly surprised. "Why should I need your help? Do not confuse my being here with the sudden urge to 'do the right thing' or 'fight the good fight**'**. I don't care about what happens to your friends, and I don't care about what happens to you or this little resistance movement. For what could I possibly need your help?"   
  
"To kill Teonvan," Aragorn said softly, his eyes not leaving the other man's face. "That is what you want, isn't it? You want to kill him because he killed your captain, because he killed Reran." Cendan did not answer, his dark blue eyes boring into the young ranger's silver ones, and Aragorn added, "You have known about it all along, haven't you? You always knew it was no accident."   
  
"Of course it was no accident," Cendan said slowly, fierce hatred spreading over his face. "Few rocks possess hands which leave marks around a person's neck."   
  
"Then why didn't you say something?" Legolas asked, truly curious now. "I have seen the way the men acted around you, and the way they looked at Teonvan. They would have believed you had you shown them proof that Reran was murdered."   
  
"Yes," Cendan said blandly. "They would probably have believed me, but that wouldn't have been of any importance whatsoever. They wouldn't have opposed him, for that they are too afraid of him – and with good reason. And even if they had and had forced him to step down in my favour and to come back with us to the city, whom do you think Girion would have believed?" He turned his head and looked straight at Laenro. "A commander he trusted and held in high esteem – or a half-bred lieutenant like me?"   
  
No one answered his question, and a moment later Aragorn inclined his head minutely.   
"Alright," he told the other man. "So why did you not seize the chance to turn us in? Why didn't you take the chance to capture us and those who had helped us escape? Surely Girion would have been grateful."   
  
"Because I didn't want to," Cendan answered coolly. "I don't want his gratitude. Besides, Girion does not care. He does not know the meaning of honour, and he doesn't care in the slightest what people in his service do as long as it gets him what he wants. There is nothing Girion could do that would be enough for me to forget that he condoned Teonvan's actions."   
  
"Honour!" Laenro snorted darkly. "So it is in the name of honour that you do this, is it? Are you trying to tell me that your men are willing to risk their lives for your injured senseof justice? What could you know of honour, after all the things you and your men have done?"   
  
"My men," Cendan began slowly, "are willing to risk their lives for me, because they want to avenge their captain as much as I do. Most of them do not care overly much about honour, you are right, but what they do care about is the war Girion is forcing on us." He paused for a second before he continued. "They know that the chances that they'll return are slim, and few are willing to die for Girion's mad ideas. So you are right, Master Laenro, they know little about honour. However," he added darkly, his eyes beginning to gleam in a decidedly menacing, threatening way, "should you ever again question my personal honour, I will kill you where you stand. This is not a threat. It is a promise, a promise I fully intend to keep."   
  
All of the sudden Legolas saw traces of the wild tribes of the East in Cendan, and he decided inwardly that he believed him. Cendan would kill anyone who dared question his honour, and for the first time since he had laid eyes on him, he began to understand the young human, at least a little. He would never trust him – hadn't he been the one who had helped capture him, the one who had had a part in Galalith's and perhaps now also Anardir's death? – but he was finally beginning to understand some of his motives.   
  
"So you want to kill Teonvan," he summed up calmly, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. "I couldn't agree more. If I ever get the chance, I'll kill him myself, with my bare hands if I have to. But how could your thirst for revenge be of any use for us? How could your hatred for Teonvan help us?"   
  
"Hatred, elf, is a very underestimated emotion," Cendan said softly. Seeing the impassive look on Legolas' face, he added bluntly, "You are my distraction. Or my bait, whichever term you prefer."   
  
Aragorn raised a dark, half-annoyed and half-amused eyebrow.   
"Would you care to elaborate on that?"   
  
"Gladly, ranger," Cendan nodded politely into Aragorn's direction, a gesture that seemed oddly out of place in the hostile atmosphere. "I want to kill Teonvan and to stop this war. You want to free you friends. We can achieve both if we work together."   
  
"How?" Laenro asked, sudden interest sparkling in his blue eyes.   
  
Cendan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming and somehow accentuating the darker tone of his skin. His look swept over the three men and the elf in front of him, and it was obvious that he had thought very long and hard about what he was about to tell them.   
  
"Girion is obsessed with two things at the moment," he began. "One, with his war, and two," he nodded into Legolas' direction, "with you and your friends. I am sure you know by now that he knows who you are … Master Legolas?"   
  
The elven prince did his best not to wince. Yes, he had known that Girion and his men had discovered his true identity, but to hear it from Cendan made it seem far more real – and far more dangerous. Next to him, Laenro and Sero looked up in confusion, their eyes darting back and forth between Cendan and the fair haired elf.   
  
"Legolas?" Laenro repeated suspiciously. "Ethoani said your name was Lasseg, elf."   
  
Legolas ignored the rather stupid grin that spread over Aragorn's face at the mention of his nickname and sighed inwardly, turning around to look at the young man and his companion.   
"That is the name I gave Girion and his men," he said in a manner of explanation. "Legolas, however, is my true name."   
  
"Why did your hide your identity?" the brown haired man asked warily. "Who are you?"   
  
For the first time since he had set foot into this house, Cendan smiled thinly.

"They do not know, do they?" he asked into Legolas' and Aragorn's direction. Neither of the two provided an answer, and so he turned back to Laenro and his second-in-command, his smile widening ever so slightly. "He is the Elvenking's son. Girion has put a bounty of two hundred gold florins on his head and another one of a hundred florins for each of his companions."   
  
Laenro's eyes grew so large they were in the distinct danger of coming loose and dropping onto the table. Sero didn't appear to be quite as shocked and found his voice first.   
"That's five hundred gold florins for all of them."   
  
Four heads turned into his direction, and Sero dropped his gaze to his hands, fiddling with the edge of his shirtsleeve.   
"It was just a thought. It's a lot of money."   
  
Laenro didn't seem to be quite as impressed by the admittedly rather large sum of money that Girion offered for the recapture of his four houseguests and merely stared at Legolas with wide eyes that appeared to grow wider by the second.   
"The Elvenking's son? _Him_?" Legolas raised an eyebrow, and the man added hastily, "I just thought … thought you would be a little bit … older?"   
  
Even despite the seriousness of the situation, Aragorn couldn't quite suppress an incredulous chuckle. Oh, where was a painter when you needed one? That look on Legolas' face was simply priceless, and if he looked a little more annoyed, he was sure the elf's face would freeze permanently in the irritated grimace he was wearing now.   
  
If Aragorn's hadn't been hurt, Legolas would have rammed his elbow into the ranger's ribs.   
"I am older than I look," he told the brown haired man, brushing back a strand of wayward blond hair with an annoyed gesture and glaring darkly at both Aragorn and Laenro.   
  
"Apparently," Laenro nodded wryly.   
  
"And all this is proving to be quite helpful now," Cendan nodded, grinning inwardly at the elf's obvious uneasiness. He might need his and his friend's help, but he did not like him – or trust him. He was an elf, after all. "Girion is obsessed with getting his hands on you again, mostly for the information he can learn from you, but also just to see you suffer. He will do anything for it, and should he come to achieve it, he will promptly forget everything around him – at least for a while."   
  
Aragorn held up a bandaged hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and dislike.   
"A moment, please," he said sharply. "I do not like the sound of that at all."   
  
"I promised you a plan that would work, not a plan you would like," Cendan shrugged indifferently.   
  
"So what _is _your plan then?" Laenro asked. "That we hand them over and hope Girion will be too busy with them to execute my sister? If that had any chance of success, I would have done it a long time ago, trust me."   
  
Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a wry look. Both of them had known that Laenro thought first of his people and his organisation, but to hear it like this was not very pleasant. Cendan merely studied Laenro like a scholar would study a particularly interesting specimen, apparently amused more than anything else by the other man's words.   
  
"No, Master Laenro, that is not my plan, since it would only help you, and not me," he said slowly and very clearly. "What I propose is that one of them gets 'captured' – I don't really care who – which will be enough to distract Girion, Teonvan and Glamir for a while. As soon as we can you, your men and my men and I strike. We will help you to get to the dungeons to free your friends, and while the guards are busy fighting off your men and mine, I will kill Teonvan – and Girion should he get in the way."   
  
Aragorn was about to protest, but Sero beat him to it, a frown creasing his brow.   
"The chances of success put aside for a moment: And what then?"   
  
"What then?" Cendan repeated, appearing truly surprised for the first time. "Do not tell me you wish to spare Girion's life."   
  
"He's right," Laenro nodded. "What then? Of course we want to kill Girion, but what will happen then? There is an army of at least seven thousand Easterlings camping in the woods, just in case you'd forgotten. You know they will seize this chance to attack the city; chaos and unrest draws them like carrion draws vultures."   
  
To their surprise, Cendan nodded earnestly, apparently agreeing with the brown haired man's less than flattering description of his mother's people's character.   
"You are right, they will attack – or they usually would. Let them be my worry."   
  
"What?" Laenro exclaimed, his worry for his sister and the suspicion he held for Cendan manifesting themselves in a sudden wave of anger. "'Let them be my worry', that's all you have to say? That's all you want to tell us?"   
  
"Yes," Cendan said bluntly. "I have some connections to some of the tribes. Let them be my worry."   
  
"This is the most ridiculous thing I have heard in a long time!" Laenro shook his head incredulously. "How can you expect us to believe you? You have 'some connections to some of the tribes'? Why should they listen to you, to the bastard of a slave girl or a whore?"   
  
Before the man had even spoken the last words, Cendan had shot to his feet, a dagger appearing in his hands so fast that even Legolas had trouble following the movement. Displaying an amazing speed and agility, the young dark haired lieutenant moved forward, and before Laenro knew what was happening, he was being pinned to the table by two steely hands and was looking into the coldest eyes he had ever seen in his life. The sharp steel of a blade bit into the skin of his throat, and with a small shudder of fear Laenro realised that it just might have been a mistake insulting this particular half-breed's mother.   
  
"Repeat that," Cendan hissed, all restraint and control gone from his face and only raw fury remaining. "Repeat it and I'll cut your throat."   
  
"Let him go," Sero demanded, his own knife appearing in his hands. The two men at the door had drawn their weapons as well and were beginning to move over to them as stealthily as possible. "You wouldn't get out of here if you killed him. Let him go."   
  
"We have business to attend to," Aragorn said, his eyes not leaving Cendan's face as he slowly stood to his feet, more because he couldn't move faster than in order not to startle the angry man in front of him. He had always wondered how the usually so calm and controlled lieutenant would react once his limits were reached, and he had to admit that it was not a pretty sight. "Let him go, Cendan. This will help neither of us and is only a waste of time."   
  
Next to him Legolas slowly rose as well, feeling a curious mix of annoyance and glee. He didn't really like either of the two men in front of him, and it was strangely gratifying to see Laenro in this position. Besides, he deserved it.   
"Listen to him," he advised the dark haired lieutenant. "Believe me, I would have no problem killing you and risk the danger of discovery. It just might be worth it."   
  
Slowly some of the tension seemed to drain from Cendan's rigid body even though his grip on the other man remained firm. After some moments he raised his head, gave the men and the elf standing around him a quick look and returned his gaze to Laenro, his dark blue eyes now the colour of the night's sky, but otherwise he appeared perfectly calm and in control once more.   
  
"Listen to me, Master Laenro," he said in a very low, very dangerous tone of voice. "I do not care what you think about me. I do not care what you think about my mother's people, and I do not care what you think about my men. I do not want you to like me; I do not like you either. Personally I think all of you are fools, and if the elf and the ranger hadn't been here, I would have turned you in without a second's hesitation."   
  
He leaned a bit closer, his eyes darkening even further.   
  
"But let me make one thing very clear: If you ever dare to speakabout my mother like this again, I will slit your throat. She was a chaste woman and no slave girl or whore, and if you should ever suggest otherwise, neither your men nor an appeal to reason will help you, that I swear by the Gods themselves. Do you understand me?"   
  
Laenro nodded quickly, apparently having come to the conclusion that this lieutenant was just as insane as the rest of Girion's men, and Cendan released him abruptly and returned his knife to its sheath at his side. Without another word he turned around and walked back to his chair he had knocked over a minute ago. He picked it up, righted it and slowly sat down, his eyes holding nothing but contempt for those in the room with him.   
  
After another few moments which everyone spent glaring at each other again, Legolas once more decided to break the silence. It appeared that the humans in the room were too stubborn or immature to do it themselves, he thought wryly.   
"The question is a valid one though," he said, unperturbed by the dark look on Cendan's face. "Why should they listen to you? I doubt that the Easterlings see you as one of them."   
  
"No, elf, they do not," the young lieutenant admitted. "For them I am a half-breed just like for the people of this city."   
  
Legolas merely continued looking at him, and the man relented with an inward sigh, realising that the elf wouldn't let this matter drop until he had got an answer.   
  
"My mother," he began, looking evenly at Laenro as if daring him to utter even a single word, "met my father on one of his journeys to the East, while he was recruiting soldiers for Girion's grandfather's army; he held the rank of a captain. They married for love, even though it took both of them a long time to convince her father to consent tothe marriage. She was lucky she had five sisters, more than enough for her father to wed to the sons of other leaders, and since she had always been his favourite, he gave them his blessings in the end, however reluctantly."   
  
"Your mother was a chieftain's daughter?" Aragorn asked, hiding his surprise well.   
  
"Yes," Cendan nodded. "My grandfather died in the same winter my parents died of the sickness that swept through the city four years ago, and one of her brothers is now chieftain of the tribes to the North."   
  
"Let me summarise all this," Laenro said slowly, but in a carefully neutral voice. "Your uncle is the chieftain of one of the most powerful tribes in the East?" When Cendan gave him a small, annoyed nod, he added incredulously, "Does Girion know about this?"   
  
"By the Gods, no!" the dark haired lieutenant shook his head. "He would have had me killed a long time ago if he did. He would never allow anyone with close ties to the tribes to serve under him. I could act as their spy after all, and plan to overthrow him and his regime and therefore ruin his war for him."   
  
"Are you?" Legolas asked softly.   
  
"Acting as their spy?" Cendan asked amusedly. "No, I am not. I will admit to planning to overthrow Girion though."   
  
"Do you have enough influence on your uncle to convince him to leave this city alone?" Aragorn asked insistently, deciding that they needed to get this meeting over with soon. He was beginning to fall asleep where he sat, and the urge to look after his brothers became ever stronger. "Because if you have not, this interesting little conversation will have been in vain. Even if we managed to free our friends – by whatever means – it wouldn't matter at all, since none of us would escape the Easterlings' attack alive and the entire city would surely be destroyed."   
  
Cendan frowned slightly.   
"Enough influence on my uncle: Yes. I think I can convince him that taking this city wouldn't be worth his while, especially considering that they would never be able to leave with the spoils without being attacked by the others. I have only seen him a handful of times, the last time before my parents' death, but I think I can get him to spare Baredlen, and be it only for my dead mother's sake. It would mean calling in every favour he and the rest of my kin owe me in any way, but it can be done."   
  
He took a deep breath and continued emotionlessly,   
  
"I can, however, not make any predictions about how the other tribes will react. My uncle has close ties to the tribe living closest to the great Sea – I think two of my cousins are married with the sons of the chieftain, and his son is married to the chieftain's daughter. They will follow his lead, and so will the smaller tribes as soon as they see that the two most powerful tribes act together. The western tribe and the one to the East have been enemies of my mother's people and especially of the tribe living close to the Sea of Rhûn for generations though, and I do not know what they will do. They might attack simply because the tribes to the North and at the Sea do not."   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes, a strange, buzzing noise filling his head. He was no stranger to political scheming and manipulation, but all this was giving him a headache. In some strange way, however, it was reassuring to see that the Easterlings were just like all other men he had met in his life, and that they acted out of the same selfish, petty motives. It made them less fearsome, in a way.   
  
"So let's assume that your uncle agrees not to attack the city," he summarised slowly. "Let's further assume that he manages to convince his son's and daughters' father-in-law to follow his lead, that the smaller tribes will fall in line, that they will manage to keep the tribe living to the East and West under control and that the army will dissolve and return to their homes." He paused for a moment before he raised his head again and looked straight at Cendan who had remained silent and not moved a muscle during his summary. "Even if you manage to do that, how are you planning to get to Girion and to get to the dungeons at the same time?"   
  
"I don't think this plan is such a good idea," Aragorn shook his head before Cendan could say anything. "There is no telling what Girion might do to anyone who is recaptured, even if it only for a short while. It's too risky."   
  
"It's the only way," Cendan objected. "Girion is no fool and misses little. Unless he and Teonvan are busy with something, something that is of great interest to them, we stand no chance of getting into the castle without being killed at the gates."   
  
"He's right," Laenro said gruffly, apparently rather unwilling to admit that fact in public. "We have been trying to come up with a way to penetrate the castle's defences for a long time. Unless there's some sort of emergency it's impossible."   
  
"As much as I enjoy seeing the two of you agree on something, I still say it's a stupid idea," Aragorn snapped. "There has to be another way!"   
  
"There isn't," Legolas shook his head slowly, earning himself a _look _so dark and full of menace from the ranger that even he was impressed. He ignored the dark implications Aragorn's glare promised him and continued, looking thoughtfully at Cendan. "Still, I think that you should tell us a tiny bit more and…"   
  
Before the elf could finish his sentence, one of Laenro's men poked his head in, his face filled with a mixture of curiosity and fear.   
"Laenro, I really think you two should come and take a look at this."   
  
The brown haired man cast a look around, shrugged and stood to his feet, quickly followed by Sero who mirrored his superior's actions. A moment later the two of them disappeared out of the room, leaving behind a dispassionate Cendan, an elf and a ranger who was very busy spearing aforementioned elf with his _look_.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?" Aragorn hissed softly in Elvish at his friend, not even trying to keep his displeasure out of his voice or off his face. "Don't think I don't know what you're planning! I will _not_ let you go back there to get yourself killed!"   
  
"Do you have a better plan?" Legolas asked back, both of his eyebrows arched high. "They are right; this is the only way. Girion wants me more than any of us, so I will go. He will not kill me right away, _mellon nín_, and as soon as you have freed Celylith, Glorfindel and the girl you will come and get me. It's not a big risk really."   
  
"'Not a big risk'?" Aragorn retorted incredulously. "What do you mean, 'not a big risk'? Of course it's a big risk!"   
  
"Alright, so it's a big risk," Legolas nodded his head impatiently. "But it is a risk one of us has to take, you know that. It has to be this way, if you like it or not. Your brothers can't go, and neither can you. You aren't strong enough yet, and besides, Girion would most likely have you killed on the spot. He _needs_ me, Estel. We must use this."   
  
"We _must _do nothing!" the man shook his head as well, but reluctant acceptance was beginning to show in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside. "There is no need for anything like this, there has to be another…"   
  
"Well, if that's not an interesting little surprise," Laenro's annoyed voice interrupted Aragorn's sentence, and the two of them looked up just in time to see Ethoani's brother walk back into the room, a half-frightened and half-furious expression on his face.   
  
He stopped in front of Cendan's chair and stared angrily at the dark haired lieutenant who was slowly beginning to stand to his feet, sporting a rather unconcerned expression. Laenro narrowed his eyes and glared at the other man who returned the look evenly.   
"This is not a public convention of some sort, just in case you had misunderstood that! I have half a mind to kill both of you right now, no matter the consequences!"   
  
"I haven't even the faintest idea what you are talking about," Cendan said coldly.   
  
"Oh, you haven't?" Laenro retorted, apparently preventing himself just in time from adding "half-breed" or another insult. He wasn't entirely sure how the lieutenant would react, but he was rather certain he wouldn't like it. "Then, please, explain this!"   
  
He gestured into the direction of the door, and a second later a man entered the room, or was rather pushed over the threshold. His clothes were slightly dishevelled as if he had hastily been searched for weapons, and his hands were half-raised at his sides. Aragorn frowned minutely as he stared at the newcomer's face. He had the feeling that he should know him, and yet neither a name nor a place where he could have seen him before came to his mind.   
  
Cendan's face showed no emotions as always, but it was clear that he hadn't expected to see this man here.   
"Menvan?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in what might have been anger or disapproval. "I thought my orders had been unambiguous. I hope you have an explanation for this."   
  
"Indeed I do, sir," Menvan nodded his head and shook off the hand of one of Laenro's men who had grabbed his elbow. "I have news you need to know – all of you."   
  
"Oh, this is priceless," Laenro snorted. "Who else knows about this meeting? All your men or just half of them?"   
  
Cendan ignored the other man completely and merely stared at the inconspicuous man in front of him, and now Aragorn remembered where he had seen him before. This Menvan had been one of Reran's men, and he had seen him many times when they had made camp, since he had been under Cendan's direct command. The young ranger frowned inwardly. He should have remembered him much sooner, but there was something so ordinary and unmemorable about the man that it was hard not to forget his face immediately.   
  
Menvan looked at his lieutenant's emotionless face and saw the anger in his eyes, and he averted his eyes and gave the room a cursory glance. His eyes came to rest on the elf and his human friend for a second or two before he looked back at Cendan and took a deep breath.   
  
"He is to be executed," he said softly. "The day after tomorrow, at noon."   
  
"Start at the beginning, soldier," Cendan all but snapped at him. "Who is to be executed?"   
  
"The elf, sir," Menvan replied and added when he saw the expression on Cendan's face, "The blond one, Lieutenant. Girion has ordered Teonvan and the other captains spread the word in the city that this is what happens to those who dare oppose him."   
  
"What?" Aragorn burst out and would have jumped to his feet had he believed that his legs were up to the task. "They want to execute Glorfindel?"   
  
"If that is his name," Menvan shrugged rather indifferently. "Rumour has it that they need the other elf in case that he," he nodded into Legolas' direction, "is not recaptured, and the girl will only join him on the scaffold if she breaks down by then and is of no more use to them. The blond one is a liability."   
  
"A liability?" Legolas asked sharply. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"   
  
"I was merely repeating what I was told, Master Elf," Menvan shrugged again.   
  
"It's a trap," Laenro said curtly. "They hope to lure you out instead of having to turn this entire city upside-down."   
  
"Of course it's a trap," Legolas retorted. A thoughtful expression spread over his face as he traded a quick, knowing look with Aragorn. "It may, however, be more than that. It may be the opportunity we have been waiting for."   
  
"Go on," the brown haired man encouraged the elf, looking quickly over to Sero.   
  
Legolas ignored the pleading expression on Aragorn's face and turned to the two soldiers.   
"Girion will be present at that execution, will he not?" When the two of them nodded, he went on, "And Teonvan as well, I assume?"   
  
"Yes," Cendan nodded, apparently beginning to understand at what the elf was hinting. "Yes, they'll be there, along with two-thirds of the city's population. Important executions are usually held on the field next to castle. There are two large galleries there, one for Girion and his court, and the other for the execution itself. You won't have seen it since it's opposite the main gates, but it's so large that you need a good part of the castle guards to control the crowds there."   
  
"The castle will be vulnerable then," Legolas inclined his head. "If we strike the day after tomorrow, we can make it. The guards will be divided between the castle and the field, and if one of your men leads us, we can get into the dungeons and out again before anyone notices."   
  
"We will still need a distraction," Laenro pointed out calmly. "There will be considerably fewer guards in the castle that day, yes, but as unhappy as I am to admit that, Girion is no fool. He will suspect something like this, and if there isn't something to draw his attention, he and a large part of the guards will return to the castle."   
  
"You are all forgetting the most important thing," Aragorn interjected. "It's all very nice to think about how to free Celylith and your sister and to kill Girion, but what about Glorfindel? We can't let him die just like that!"   
  
"No?" Menvan mouthed silently and nearly staggered backwards under the force of the young ranger's heated glare. He shook his head inwardly. It had only been a joke, really.   
  
Cendan shot his subordinate a dark glare that promised serious repercussions should he fail to keep his mouth shut and returned his attention to the young ranger, looking rather indifferent to Glorfindel's fate himself.   
  
"Your friend is as good as dead, ranger," he told him coolly. "There is no way to get into the dungeons before the execution is scheduled, and to free him on the field will be nigh impossible. There will be too many guards, and you wouldn't get close enough to the scaffold to do anything. All you can hope for is that Girion will put it off once he's distracted, even though I wouldn't count on it if I were you."   
  
"That is not nearly good enough," Aragorn retorted icily. "I don't care about how easy or hard it will be to save him. I won't let him die."   
  
"You may have no choice," Laenro nodded into Cendan's direction. "He's right. We may simply have to sacrifice one of them to free the others."   
  
"Oh, really?" the ranger exclaimed and gripped the tabletop so tightly that the knuckles showed white through the bloodless skin. "How easily you say such things! Tell me one thing, Master Laenro: Would you do it? Would you agree to this if it were your sister we are talking about, would you simply let her die without even trying to save her?"   
  
"Let me think, ranger," Laenro hissed back, apparently once again close to losing his temper. "Would I sacrifice her life for the chance to free two others, kill dozens of guards, eliminate one or more captains and rid this city of Girion and his regime once and for all?" He paused and looked at the other man, blue eyes locking with grey ones. "Yes. Yes, I would do it, and so would she if she were in my place. This is an opportunity too good to pass up."   
  
Legolas who had been silent until now suddenly raised his head, a strange light shining in his eyes as he turned to Cendan, apparently unaware of the argument he was just interrupting.   
"How are people executed here?" Cendan merely stared at him while Aragorn and Laenro fell silent, and Legolas added in the face of the humans' obvious confusion, "Do you hang them? Are they beheaded? How are they put to death?"   
  
Sero frowned at the elf and finally answered as it became apparent that no one else would.   
"It depends. If there is more than one prisoner – and that happens very often – they are usually beheaded since that's the quickest way to do it, but hanging isn't uncommon either."   
  
"They will hang him," Menvan supplied quietly. "Teonvan said it would be more fun this way and give the people something to watch. Beheadings are bloodier, but not as much fun to watch."   
  
The elf's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly as he heard the captain's name, but other than that he did not react at all. For a few moments the humans stared at the fair haired being who was apparently deep in thought, and just when Aragorn was about to ask what he was aiming at Legolas raised his head, a small, unreadable glint in his eyes.   
  
"There is a way," he said slowly. "If we time it precisely and with your help," he nodded into Cendan's and Menvan's direction, "we can save both Glorfindel and the other two, kill Girion and Teonvan and free your city. It won't be easy, but it's doable. Much will depend on how many men you can rally."   
  
Laenro gave the elf a cautious look, and decided with an inward sigh to trust him. They were in this together, and it was far too late now to try and back out.   
"In two days I can have about two hundred men here. No more, I fear, but they know how to wield a sword and won't hesitate to use it."   
  
Cendan raised a surprised eyebrow, the only outward sign of his surprise. He hadn't thought that Laenro's little resistance movement had more than perhaps six or seven dozen members, but it appeared he had underestimated the other man. Very well, he vowed to himself, that wouldn't happen again. He was apparently a lot more dangerous than he had thought.   
  
"Before I joined Reran's men, I commanded a number of units," Cendan said curtly. "Often I was able to choose the officers that were to succeed me. Most of them – and their men – will follow me; they think as I do and are not willing to lead their men to the West to watch them be slaughtered. There are other commanders I can approach, men that either hate Teonvan enough or are as unwilling to die for Girion as we are. With luck and the Gods' grace I can promise you half of the guard corps and perhaps a third of the soldiers. The element of surprise is ours, and the others will fall in line quickly once their officers are eliminated."   
  
Aragorn looked sharply up from where he had been studying Legolas' calm (too calm, a voice in his head whispered warningly) face, slightly taken aback by the other man's cold-bloodedness. Cendan talked as if he had no problem killing his fellow officers, and when Aragorn looked into the other man's dark blue eyes, he realised that he would indeed have no qualms whatsoever to kill all those who opposed him in any way.   
  
"Really?" Laenro asked eagerly, apparently not at all disturbed by the thought of eliminating about half of Girion's officers. "So many?"   
  
Cendan merely inclined his head the fraction of an inch and looked at the elven prince, who valiantly ignored Aragorn's _look _and nodded back at him, his eyes holding a slightly faraway look.   
"Yes," Legolas said softly. "Yes, that should be more than enough. Do you have access to Girion's gallery?"   
  
This time, the surprise broke through Cendan's emotionless façade.   
"Yes," he said, obviously puzzled. "Yes, I do, at least limited access, that is. I can come and go as I please, even though I cannot come anywhere near him."   
  
"Then it will work," Legolas nodded again. He slowly turned back to Aragorn who was looking at him with barely concealed dread on his face. "I fear you won't like it though."   
  
The small cluster of fear and apprehension that had been steadily growing in the young ranger's stomach grew to improbable proportions while Legolas explained his plan, and in the middle of it Aragorn decided that, as always, his friend's words had been a gross understatement.   
  
  
  
  
Glorfindel was quickly coming to the conclusion that Elrond had been right all along. He _was _stupid, idiotic and sometimes amazingly irresponsible for his age.   
  
The small, apparently rather demented man in front of him seemed to agree with him on this, which would be the first thing they had agreed on since he had seen it fit to have him dragged out of the cell. It wasn't that he had liked the cell overly much, he thought somewhat dreamily, but it hadn't been too bad now that he thought about it.   
  
He was still busying himself with trying to come up with all the reasons why exactly the cell hadn't been so bad (try as he might, he couldn't think of anything but the fact that the company had been rather enjoyable and that it had a comfortable floor), the sound of footsteps reached his ears, and with a small, inward sigh he raised his head again.   
  
He couldn't really remember when he had let it sink forward – it couldn't have been a voluntary decision on his part, since that was most definitely not something he would have chosen to do, especially in front of this man – but somehow that didn't seem to matter at the moment. All that mattered was the pain that throbbed through his body, and even though it was by far not the worst pain he had ever been in, it was nearly enough to overwhelm his senses.   
  
The footsteps turned out to belong to Glamir as he had suspected, no matter how much he had wished the man had turned into a small pile of ashes on the floor. The golden haired elf fought the almost irresistible urge to giggle. That would have been too much to ask for, after all.   
  
The man sauntered over to where he was chained to the wall, satisfaction and strangely also disappointment emanating from his small frame. Glorfindel had long ago given up figuring out what the man was thinking or feeling, however (besides, he didn't care in the slightest), especially considering that Glamir would tell him anyway. If there was one thing he was certain about at the moment, it was that Glamir enjoyed listening to the sound of his own voice far too much.   
  
The man stopped in front of him and looked him over, his eyes travelling over his prisoner's suspended body and his face creased with something that looked like severe disapproval.   
"I must say, Master Elf," he began conversationally, "I am rather disappointed. I had rather hoped that this would be more … fun."   
  
Had Glorfindel seen any sense whatsoever in it, he would have informed the man that he didn't care about how much fun he had or not. Aragorn would most likely have talked back to the man, and the twins and the two Mirkwood elves as well, but he was old and experienced enough to know that that wouldn't change anything. It might only make everything even worse, though if in what way, he truly couldn't say right now.   
  
It was impossible to tell if Glamir was pleased or angered about his captive's lack of response. For a few moments he merely stared at the elf who returned the look evenly out of emotionless if somewhat glazed eyes. No, the man thought to himself, this was no fun at all. He had known that elves were stubborn and that it was hard to get a reaction out of them, that much he had learned from the others, but this was positively … vexing.   
  
This one was different, he decided and cocked his head to the side as he studied the golden haired being's now rather bloody face. The other elves had worn prideful and brave masks and had done everything in their power to keep silent, yes, but in the end they had failed, just like all of his "projects" were doomed to fail. In the end they all screamed, it was only a matter of time. This elf hadn't screamed, and he didn't appear to have any inclination of changing that particular attitude any time soon either.   
  
Glamir could have lived with that; he was not an uncontrolled man like Teonvan, after all. It wasn't about the screams; it was about the art, about the knowledge that one got somewhere with what one was doing. This time, however, he wasn't getting anywhere, the balding man admitted to himself. The other elves had shown some fear, even if only towards the end. Everyone he had ever had a "session" with had shown some kind of fear before the end, and be it only in their eyes or in the way they held themselves.   
  
This … Glorfindel (or whatever his name may be) however did not, and that was beginning to truly grate on Glamir's nerves. No matter what he did and no matter in how much pain the prisoner should be, he showed no sign of fear, none whatsoever, and Glamir was beginning to think that maybe, just _maybe_, he wasn't afraid of him at all.   
  
That was of course highly unlikely, he knew that himself, but right now he could think of no other explanation. There was no frightened expression mixed with the pain in those blue eyes, pain that not even this elf could hide completely; all there was to see was an almost mocking glint, as if nothing Glamir had done or could hope to do could ever measure up to what he had already seen and experienced.   
  
Glamir clenched his jaw, anger beginning to fill his entire being. He hadn't felt so … inferior and helpless in a long time, and it was not a feeling he cherished. The sudden burst of fury prompted him to take a step forward, and with an irritated, dark snarl he reached out with one of his hands and grabbed his prisoner by the hair that had long ago come loose of its braids and hung now in sweaty strands around the pale face. The man tangled his fingers in the golden strands and jerked the elf's hair up, his anger mounting even higher when he saw the almost annoyed expression in the other's eyes.  
  
"No," he said in a pressed voice, "You are no fun at all. What does it take to make you lose control, if only for a little while?"   
  
He let his eyes wander over the prisoner, taking in the bruises that covered most of the face and the long gashes that were visible through the tears in the remains of what had once been a light-coloured shirt. Now, the man thought detachedly, it was more of a russet colour due to the dried blood that clung to most of it, and once again Glamir contemplated removing the shredded garment completely. It was rather unsatisfactory not being able to see his work.   
  
His eyes moved over to the wooden chest that was standing a few feet away from them to their left, a small part of his mind noting with displeasure that it once again was getting stained by a rather large amount of blood. The red liquid trickled down from the whips lying on top of it, one next to the other in a neat, orderly line. They were all of different designs, from ropes to leather cords to thin chains, and all of them had been used today, more or less intensively. Glamir was rather fond of all of them just as he was fond of all of his tools, and the fact that he had put all of them to good use during the past hour or so to absolutely no avail only managed to incense him even further.   
  
"So," he began, returning his attention to the elf in front of him, "What do we do now? I still have some time before I have to end this and address myself to interrogating your young friend, so what should we try this time? Some more time with the whips, or something else?"   
  
A dark, angry sparkle flared up in the elf's eyes at the mention of the younger elf, and Glamir continued, realising that he just might have found the way to break through the elf's stoic, proud façade.   
  
"Or should I have him brought here?" he asked softly, watching with fascination how the anger in those clear blue eyes grew. "He was quite stubborn, you know, just like the two brothers before him. And while I didn't have the time to break them, I will have time to break _him_, that I promise you."   
  
Glorfindel's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he looked into the man's cold brown eyes. He still did not wish to talk to this sick little creature, but the last thing he needed now was to watch how he hurt someone else, and especially the young wood-elf, to get to him.   
"What do you want with me?" he asked in a soft voice that was devoid of most of the pain he was in. "I won't tell you anything, and you know that. You are wasting your time, human."   
  
Glamir let go of the elf's head and stepped back, an amused sparkle in his eyes.   
"I don't want to hear anything from you, elf, except maybe a scream or two."   
  
"Then," the elf retorted icily, his face so calm that he might have been sitting at a conference table and not been hanging bleeding by his wrist in a cell, "You will have to wait for quite a long time. You are a child dabbling in a man's work. Nothing you could do would change anything, and that is the thing you cannot even admit to yourself."   
  
Glamir stared at the elf, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Anger boiled hot in his veins, threatening to choke him, but the worst thing was that, deep down in his heart, the man knew the prisoner was right. Shaking off that thought, he raised a mocking eyebrow at the elf, inwardly trembling with shock and rage.   
  
"Is that so?" He reached out, parted the tattered shirt that covered the fair haired being's torso and trailed a finger along one of the welts, grinning slightly as a small flicker of pain flashed over the elf's face. "You are awfully cocky for someone in your position, elf. If you knew what was good for you, you would be a little more afraid."   
  
Glorfindel refrained from pointing out to the man that, no matter what he did or how much longer he tortured him, he would never get close to the agony he had experienced during his death. There was nothing he could do to him that could ever hurt as much as these few moments before the blackness of death had mercifully taken him, these few moments in which he had watched his skin and hair catch fire and smelt the sickening smell of his own burning flesh.   
  
The elf lord shuddered inwardly. After all these millennia the memories were still fresh enough to make him actually feel the pain he remembered so vividly, and he still awoke screaming once in a while. No, he thought to himself, there was no way Glamir could get close to a balrog, even though he wouldn't tell him that. It just might serve to give the man ideas or awaken the urge to try and prove him wrong.   
  
"I am not afraid of you," Glorfindel informed the man coldly, doing his best to ignore the pain that seemed to fill every square inch of his torso. "As I said, you are but a child to me. I haven't been afraid in a long time, and I have faced beings far older and more fearsome than you."   
  
"Ah, the unflappable elven pride and composure," Glamir nodded knowingly, hastily masking his own growing confusion. This elf was either mad or stupid, he wasn't sure which yet. "I had expected something like this from you, to be honest. The question is whether or not you will still be displaying that attitude the day after tomorrow."   
  
The small man paused and looked at his elven prisoner expectedly, only to sigh inwardly with exasperation when the fair haired being merely gave him a blank look. How was one supposed to wake fear in someone's heart when that someone didn't even know what one was talking about?   
  
"I see they failed to inform you," he said disapprovingly and began to walk over to the wooden chest. He stopped next to it and eyed the tools lying on top of it thoughtfully as he tried to make up his mind as to which one he should use next. "It is so hard to find guards that are more intelligent than the average mountain goblin, wouldn't you agree?"   
  
Glorfindel merely stared at the man, giving him his best I-am-a-millennia-old-elf-lord-and-very-close-to-losing-my-temper-look, and Glamir quickly averted his eyes. It appeared that the elf wasn't really interested in the questionable intelligence of the guard corps.   
  
"Be that as it may," he went on, running a hand over one of the implements and gazing disapprovingly at the dark red liquid that covered his fingertips when he withdrew it, "I really think that it would be only polite to inform you." He turned around, eyeing the elf sharply. "Your execution is scheduled in two days, at noon. Don't worry about your companion, though," he added loftily and with a benevolent smile that only fuelled the fury that was beginning to fill Glorfindel's being, "He won't be joining you. He and I have a lot of things to talk about yet."   
  
"He won't tell you anything," the golden haired elf shook his head, not really knowing why he was even talking to this insane little man. "He would never betray his people, his king or his prince, and most definitely not to you."   
  
"Oh, but he will," Glamir smiled friendly and turned back to the whips. "Not today, and not even tomorrow, but soon, believe me. All I need is time, and considering that you elves are supposed to be immortal…" He trailed off and shrugged. "I don't even have to break him before my lord leaves with his army. That's what carrier pigeons are for, hm?"   
  
Glorfindel decided that there was really nothing he could retort to this, especially considering that it might not be such a good idea to tell the man the very elaborate, uncomplimentary Dwarven curse he had just remembered. The elf merely raised his head as far as he could, shackled and hurting as he was, and gave Glamir the coldest, darkest, most contemptuous look he could manage right now, the one that had – only once or twice, admittedly – even managed to stop Erestor in mid-tirade when the Noldo was having his adventurous time of the _yén_.   
  
Glamir seemed to be suitably impressed by it, since he nonchalantly dropped his eyes to the floor and, almost as if to do something to distract himself, picked up one of the tools. It was the whip with the small, thin chains, and Glorfindel realised with a small pang of dread that it just might have been a mistake to open his mouth in the first place. He sighed inwardly. Elrond was indeed right, it appeared. He _was _unable to keep his mouth shut when it mattered.   
  
As if the instrument had infused him with a new certainty and strength, Glamir raised his head again and began to walk over to his captive, who was still displaying an annoyingly unconcerned and calm façade. Damn him, Glamir thought angrily, more vexed by this elf than he had been by any other being for a long, long time, damn him to whatever unpleasant places his afterlife had in store for him. He really was no fun at all.   
  
"Since you failed to give me an answer," he began casually, "I just assumed that you would enjoy some more time with the whips; I hope that wasn't too presumptuous on my part?" The elf didn't answer, not that Glamir had expected him to, of course. "As I said, we still have some hours today, and even more tomorrow. We really have to make the most of the time we have before you … well, die, don't you think?"   
  
If anything, the elf looked amused at the possibility of torment and death. He merely raised a golden eyebrow and gave him a pitying smile that very clearly stated that this was a most feeble threat, just like the ones before it.   
"It would certainly not be the first time, human."   
  
Glamir stopped in front of the prisoner, drew back and dealt a blow to the other's face, more to mask his mounting frustration and confusion than to punish the elf for his arrogant tone of voice. At least he had got the answer to one question, the man thought to himself as he took a step to the side, readied the whip and watched the elf slowly raise his head again, the defiant fire in his eyes burning even more brightly than before if such a thing was even possible.   
  
This one was most definitely mad.   
  
  
  
  
Aragorn was watching the late afternoon sunlight creep over the floorboards of the small room, asking himself why every single healer he met felt the sudden urge to threaten him with doom, drugs and dismemberment. Usually in that order, too.   
  
He hadn't really done anything to merit such threats, at least not in his opinion. He had been his usual, reasonable self – a description which would have sent Legolas into waves of uncontrollable giggling, he was aware of that. The elf had insisted that Thesieni had been perfectly right to throw him out of Elladan's and Elrohir's room, because he had allegedly behaved like a 'large, nearly hysterical mother hen'.   
  
The young man growled inwardly. He had been nowhere near 'hysterical'. He might have been a little bit agitated, yes, but everyone would have been agitated if he had just seen his brothers in various states of bloodiness. Legolas was once again exaggerating, but unfortunately the female healer had seemed to agree with him on this matter. Aragorn was no fool, and if he had learnt one thing in his life, it was never to get on the wrong side of a healer. That didn't mean that one had to abide by all their rules and orders, of course; clever people merely waited until they were out of sight, another thing he had got very good at.   
  
The thought of his elven friend caused him to prop himself up on his elbows and to turn slightly to the right. Next to him, no more than two feet away due to the small size of the room, was Legolas, lying on a narrow bed just like he was, and at the moment the elf was fast asleep. A small smile spread over Aragorn's face as he watched the sleeping elf's face, only the quick stab of fear unsettling him slightly as he saw his friend's closed eyes.   
  
It was only natural, he told himself firmly for the umpteenth time. Legolas' body might have healed quickly, as always, but the elf was still far from perfect health. He was sorely in need of rest, and had been so exhausted that his eyes had closed almost as soon as his head had touched the pillow.   
  
After Cendan had left in the morning and Laenro had stomped out of the room, clearly angry at the lieutenant, them and about every other person in the world, both Legolas and he had needed a long time until they had managed to get up the stairs again, and if not for their "pigheaded stubbornness", as it had been termed more than once, they wouldn't have made it either.

While they had been climbing the creaking wooden steps, Aragorn had – vainly, of course – tried to convince the elf that the plan he had come up with and that had somehow been accepted by the others was stupid, foolish, reckless and, in short, doomed to failure. It wasn't really what he thought – he was old and reasonable enough to see that the elf's plan might just be the only way all of them would get out of this alive – but the decidedly larger part of him still froze in fear whenever he thought about it.   
  
Legolas, however, had not been impressed by his arguments, and in the end Aragorn had given up. He knew that steely glint in Legolas' eyes, he had seen in many times in the past, and he knew that there was no way the elven prince would change his mind now. Not that he could blame him, of course, he thought to himself. He knew how close Legolas and Celylith were, and he also knew what the silver haired elf's death would do to his friend. He had seen it last year, when they had both thought Celylith had died, and the empty, despairing look in Legolas' eyes that had been bereft of hope and light and laughter and everything that made Legolas Legolas was something he never wanted to see again.   
  
No, he knew that the elf would do what it took to free his friend and Glorfindel, and so would he, if he was perfectly honest. He had a score to settle with these people who had hurt close to every person that meant something to him in this world, and that was something he didn't forgive easily. It was something he didn't forgive at all now that he thought about it, and he would make sure these men realised what a mistake they had made before they died.   
  
Still, just because he accepted the necessity of such a plan it didn't mean that he approved of Legolas', and, more precisely, of the part of Legolas' plan that placed the fair haired elf in the riskiest position he had been able to find. It would need only a very slight mistake on someone's part, only the tiniest miscalculation or delay and Legolas would die, which was yet another thing he wasn't willing to accept.   
  
The young ranger automatically opened his mouth to try and reason once again with the elf only to close it again with a small snap when he remembered that Legolas was asleep. He didn't want to wake him for this (and didn't want to know what the elf would do to him if he did, in fact), since it had only been about three or four hours ago that he had been contemplating how to put Legolas to sleep.   
  
It had been just after Thesieni had shut the door of the twins' room in their faces and had told them in very unambiguous terms that they were not to come back until she said so that they had dragged themselves back to their room, knowing full well that there was nothing they could do now. They wouldn't be able to help Laenro prepare anything or rally his men, they couldn't leave the house, and so the only thing Aragorn could think of to pass the time was to force the elf to sit down and let him have a look at his injuries.   
  
It had taken him a lot of open threats, outrageous promises and pleas to get Legolas to comply, but in the end he had conceded, and Aragorn had once again had the chance to scold his friend for not taking better care of his body. It truly hadn't been the elf's fault this time, Aragorn was perfectly aware of that, but it had become a kind of ritual for them to berate the other about his foolishness when they were tending each other's wounds.   
  
After the young man had made sure that Thesieni was indeed right, that Legolas' wounds would all heal with time and that the old stab wound that was still giving the elf considerable trouble was healing slowly but was not infected, he had tried to convince Legolas that yes, he was fine, no, he didn't need him to change his bandages now, and yes indeed, he was more than capable of looking after himself.   
  
When he had already contemplated drugging the elf to make sure he slept a little – or to hit him over the head with something hard and unyielding – Legolas had finally given in and had at least conceded to lie down, even though he had made the fierce promise that he wouldn't sleep since he wasn't tired in the least.   
  
Aragorn's smile widened a little more. Not even Legolas' strong will or his stubbornness had been able to keep him awake once his head had touched the soft pillow, and half a minute after he had vowed not to need any rest the elf had been sleeping deeply. The man was very glad about it, too, especially because he really hadn't wanted to drug Legolas – the elf reacted rather strangely about things like that.   
  
The young ranger sighed softly and lay back down, willing himself to fall asleep. There was nothing he could do now but worry about Glorfindel, Celylith and his brothers or count the holes Teonvan's spikes had left – both not overly appealing possibilities. No matter how hard he tried, however, he simply couldn't find any rest here, even though his body was so exhausted and in so much pain that he was beginning to develop a splitting headache – the only kind of pain he hadn't had to begin with.   
  
He didn't really understand why he couldn't sleep; maybe it had something to do with that horrible liquid of which the dark haired captain had been so fond. Thesieni, who was quite an accomplished healer as he had found out in the past few hours, might even be able to enlighten him about that, but he wasn't about to ask her. She would merely give him a dark glare and reach into that huge bag where she kept her herbs and medicines, muttering something about stubborn young people. No, the man thought darkly, that would not do.   
  
Aragorn found himself suddenly wishing for one of his father's foul-tasting draughts. No matter how vile they might taste, Elrond's medicines always worked, and right now he would be willing to put up with the taste if he could only sleep an hour or two. A moment later he realised just what he had thought, and with a small shiver of horror he shook his head and decided that enough was enough. If he was already beginning to fantasise about his father's potions, there was something wrong indeed, and there was only one way he could be sure about finding some sleep this accursed evening. Legolas and Thesieni would most likely have his head mounted on the front door tomorrow morning, but right now he didn't care.   
  
Slowly and as soundlessly as he could he began to sit up and swung his legs over the edge of the narrow bed. A few moments later he was standing upright and managed to cross the few feet over to the next wall without falling flat on his face. Gripping the wall tightly he moved over to the door, deciding inwardly that it was really beginning to get easier to walk already. Thesieni had told him that the men that managed to survive the brown potion usually recovered swiftly, and it appeared that what little elven blood he still possessed was aiding him in his recovery.   
  
He reached the door and turned slowly back around, giving the sleeping elf a last look before leaving the room. It was a testament to Legolas' exhaustion that he hadn't even stirred, he thought to himself as he slowly began to walk down the corridor. He only hoped that he would remain asleep for a bit longer, because he really didn't want to know what the elf would do once he discovered that he had disappeared without a trace.   
  
Aragorn smiled to himself, clinging to these thoughts as a means to distract himself from the pain that throbbed through him with every step he took. Legolas would probably turn the house upside down and then, when he had finally found him, he would lecture him on his recklessness and foolish behaviour. He shrugged lightly. Well, it would certainly not be the first time, would it?   
  
A few moments later he reached his destination, inwardly rather glad about it. He looked first right and then left to make sure that he was indeed alone and then reached out with his right hand and opened the door, giving a silent prayer of thanks when the well-oiled hinges didn't even give the smallest creak. The young ranger quickly wiped a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes and moved into the room, closing the door again as soon as he had stepped inside.   
  
For a couple of second he merely leaned against the closed door and took in the sight in front of him, enjoying the relief and happiness that flooded through him. Yes, he thought quietly to himself, Elladan and Elrohir might look like prime examples for half-dead casualties that had been pulled out of the rubble of a collapsed building, but right now he couldn't think of any sight that would fill him with more contentment, not even that of Teonvan's dead body – and that meant quite a lot in his opinion.   
  
He stepped closer to the two beds that stood at the far side of the room, separated only by about three feet. Next to each of them was an armchair and a small nightstand which were covered with various cups, mortars, phials, bunches of dried herbs and bandages, and a small fire was still going in the fireplace to Aragorn's right.   
  
The dark haired ranger stopped in front of the beds, wondering for a moment how anyone could mistake one of the two elves for the other. It happened to about everyone who met them for the first time and even to quite a lot of people who had known them for long years, but it never ceased to astonish him. He had been able to see the small, but to him clearly visible differences between them from a very early age, and even now they hadn't disappeared and were clear to see in the faces of the twins that were relaxed in sleep.   
  
Aragorn first stepped up to Elladan's bed, who was lying on his stomach, and gently removed the thick blankets that covered the older twin. The elf's back was covered from neck to hips with crisp white bandages, and the man had to suppress the anger and hatred that welled up inside of him at the sight. He carefully replaced the blankets and leaned forward a little to feel his brother's forehead, feeling relief fill him when he felt his relatively cool forehead. It was still too hot, but now he understood why Thesieni had left the twins alone for a few moments. Elladan's temperature was still too high, but it wasn't life-threatening anymore. With time and as soon as he woke up, he would be just fine.   
  
The young man turned his attention to the other bed whose occupant was just as deeply asleep as the other elf. Elrohir was lying on his back, an enormous bandage encircling his head, the bruises on his cheeks in stark contrast to the linen's whiteness. Even despite the multiple blankets that covered him from head to toe the thick bandages around his leg could be seen, and Aragorn had to resist checking that wound as well. The younger twin appeared to be deeply asleep, his eyes tightly closed just as Legolas' and his brother's.   
  
For long moments, Aragorn merely looked at the two sleeping twins, studying their bruised, relaxed faces. Finally he turned back to Elladan and gently brushed some strands of dark hair away from his face, before repeating the process with Elrohir.   
  
"Sleep well, my brothers," he whispered softly and slowly moved over to the armchair next to Elrohir's bed. It took him some time to reach it and climb into it without making any noises, but in the end he managed to, pain and pride at his accomplishment filling him to equal parts.   
  
Aragorn gave the two slumbering elves a last, long look before he curled up in the chair, and in a matter of moments silence once again settled over the darkened room as he joined them in restful sleep.  
  
  
  
  


**TBC...**

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mellon nín - my friend  
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years  
  
  
  
  
_***smiles benignly* Ah, see, they are all alright - relatively speaking, I mean? Well, Glorfindel, Celylith and Ethoani might not agree, but I'll just ignore that. *g* So, things are beginning to get interesting next chapter, in which we'll see annoyed elven princes, worried rangers, a rather confused elven twin and a (presumably) Vanyarin and a Silvan elf who are also quite annoyed. I think they're all annoyed right now. *g* It should be here in a week, as always, and (again, as always) reviews are cherished and loved. I mean it. *g***

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Additional A/N:  
  
Deana** - *narrows eyes slightly* Is-this-a-joke-is-it-not-is-this-a-joke... Well, in case it wasn't a joke, no, there won't be any Legolas torture anymore. Or, slowly: No - Legolas - torture - for - the - rest - of - this - story. *g* Sorry about that, but the poor guy deserves a break.  
**Sirithiliel** - It's nice to see you agree. I hope it's with my no-more-torture-policy - even though I doubt it somehow... *g* Well, be that as it may, thank you for all your reviews, and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest of this fic as well!  
**Tychen** - You should chain the laptop to your desk, really. This way no one can remove it. It's what I do - my sister is horrible when it comes to 'borrowing' things. She still has my discman she 'borrowed' three days ago for a few hours... *sobs* I'll never see it again, I just know I won't... *coughs* Well, yes, whatever. LOL, the scene in Laenro's house is like an E.R. episode? To be perfectly honest, I never watched more than two episodes, I somehow never really liked it - even despite George Clooney. *g* And you're right of course, Glorfindel is the only one who can (and has to) get tortured. Poor him. *evil grin*  
**Red Tigress** - Me too! I HATE oral exams, I just HATE them. I do quite well at them, but that's of no importance. I hate sitting there and looking at all those people and knowing what I _don't_ know and... *trails off* Sorry, but the next one I have to take is about the medieval German settlements in the East. It's a nightmare - _my_ nightmare. I didn't have a choice, but that doesn't make it any easier... I hate that period of time, and everything connected with settlements in any form is my own personal nightmare. *sighs* Well, I still have some time. Hmm, come to think of it, Celylith could adopt a gross, mutated roach? Or a rat? Or both? What do you think? *g*  
**Ellyrianna** - Uhm, no, Nili didn't post early. Nili has changed the update rhythm from Fridays to Wednesdays, and was in fact four days late. Nili will now stop speaking about herself in third-person. *g* I am, however, more than happy to see that you've reviewed. I love reviews, something I state far too often for my taste. *g* It's moce to hear that someone likes Elladan better than Elrohir. Elrohir really has a lot more fans than his brother; I really can't understand it. I love them both. Thank you very much for leaving your 'twisted musings' long enough to review! *huggles*  
**Bailey** - No, sorry, I won't tell you whether or not Ethonai is going to be rescued. The fic will be over soon anyway, so you have to wait only ... hmm, let me see ... two or three chapters, I think. *evil grin* About the alliance with the Easterlings: It _could_ be a good thing, if our heroes manage to prevent them from sacking Baredlen. If not, they will all die. *g* Surprise, surprise.  
**Someone Reading** - *shakes head sadly* I really can't understand why no one likes Girion. I understand why you wouldn't like Teonvan (I don't like him myself) or even Glamir, but I really like Girion. *shrugs* Don't tell me, I'm mad. LOL, so this is almost as good as chocolate? That's high praise indeed, thank you! *g* I like chocolate too (who doesn't), but I think I like Diet Coke with Lemon better at the moment. Then again, I'm addicted to it, so... *g*  
**Cosmic Castaway** - Hmm, it's just the question of whether you not talking to me is a good or a bad thing! *evil grin* No, don't worry, j/k, I would be greatly distraught if you wouldn't talk to me. So here's the next bit! *g*  
**Jinnder** - Well, as I said in the A/N, no one will miss Cendan overly much. Teonvan will most likely even be very happy that he isn't there. *g* And I'm very happy to hear that you like Cendan, I like him quite a lot myself. He's ... adorable. Kind of evilly adorable, but still. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Karone Evertree** - You're quite right, you know. Laenro and his merry little band of rebels will find out about Legolas' real name this chapter, and they're not really happy. A bit surprised, too, but that's understandable, I think. LOL, Celylith has indeed his moments. You know, I could just imagine Legolas saying something like that, with a condescending smile of course. *g* And hey! I mean, I post once a week, and I warned you beforehand of the five-days-delay, didn't I? But I have both, homework AND memory lapses. *g*  
**Alariel** - *evil grin* Yup, the tension is building, you're right. Legolas has indeed a grand plan, even though you'll have to wait a bit to find out what it is. Aragorn is NOT happy about it though. *g* And you're right again, Cendan IS different. He's kind of honourably evil - everything he does it according to (his own) code of honour. That's something, I guess. LOL, yes, the fire-breathing dragon. You guys are obsessed with it, aren't you? *g*  
**Alasse Tiwele** - *g* Once again, sorry. The word is top secret - so top secret that even I don't know what it is. *g* Last chapter had a cliffy? You see, that wasn't one, not even tiny one, at least in my opinion. A cliffy is something entirely different. *g* In my opinion, that is.  
**Firnsarnien - **You are absolutely right, of course, but you have to admit that there is no way Glamir could know the while balrog-thing. Poor Glamir actually, all this is proving to be quite frustrating for him... *g* As I said in the A/N, Girion won't miss Cendan since he's only a captain, and I am rather sure that Teonvan would rather take his other two lieutenants with him, if he took someone at all. And you're right again, everything is going to depend on their ability to work together. *loks at stubborn elf, ranger and assorted men at the table* Well, there goes their chance of survival... *g*  
**Smile Neumann** - LOL, so he's your Glorfy now, huh? And yes, it would be quite nice if Cendan helped them just like that, but unfortunately we aren't truly nice. *g* Thranduil wouldn't punish Legolas for getting captured, you're right of course, and I even doubt that Elrond would do anything to them other than lecture them for a few decades. But just wait a chapter or two, Legolas will yet do something that will most definitely earn himself his father's wrath. *g*   
**AngelMouse5** - Of course I remember you, as far as I know I don't have that many insane Australian reviewers. *g* Oh, and I can most definitely not tell you what the word is, I have been keeping silent about it for about half a year now. I can't tell you, sorry - Glorfindel and Erestor would kill me, and I really don't want to die yet, if somehow possible. And this story will be 32 chapters, at least it looks like that now. I don't think I'll write more. *g*  
**Celebdil-galad + Tinlaure** - Hmm, let me think for a moment. Why not torture Legolas some more? A. It would ruin the plot. B. This is a story, not a single long torture session. C. He may be an elf, but he's not Superman. There are limits to what an elven body can take. D. The same goes for an elven mind. E. I don't like writing torture, and he's had his turn. F. ... Well, there isn't an F. I think that's about it. *g* It's great to hear that you paper went well, and I would love to meet your horse! If I'm ever in the neighbourhood, I'll visit. *g* No, that won't happen any time soon (or ever, most likely), but hey. *g*  
**Chibi Noin** - I'm extremely flattered that you took the time to review - I know exactly what having a lot of homework feels like. It's nice to hear that you enjoyed this, and thanks again for the review!  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Maybe I should have said "too few _prominent_ villains". You know, everybody expects that the 'heroes' kill at least one of the main bad guys each, and that is beginning to get tricky, trust me. *g* I am sorry to say this though, but this won't be very bloody. It's not so much about the torture this time, at least I keep telling myself that. *g* And the torture ban covers the twins too, but only because they won't be doing anything in the near future, I fear. If they were, I wouldn't hesitate to give them a few battle wound of their own. And if you want a psychiatrist, I can give you the names of about a dozen. They all stopped treating me after a session or two, I don't know why either. *shrugs* They're weird.   
**Elvendancer** - Hmm, Lord Súliat's delegates? I don't really think they're very happy at the moment. In fact, I think they have started packing already and are preparing themselves to get out of the city as quickly as possible. They are clever, after all. *g*  
**LOTRFaith** - Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure if I like Laenro or not. He's not the most tolerant of people, to put it that way... But his life has most definitely not been easy, you're right, and I also feel sorry for him. And you're very welcome to like Cendan. I love him myself, he's so ... adorable. I can't really think of a word to describe him. *g* I like the elf lord very angry too, and maybe we'll get the chance to see him angry too. I'm not sure yet, but I think so. Hmm, in my opinion Jack Sparrow was never truly bad. That's the problem about bad guys, if they're really bad, they will most likely not change either. *g*  
**Crippled Raven** - *blinks at angry rant* I can only imagine what that feels like. We don't have sets here, we're all getting the smae lessons till twelfth grade, then you can chose your two main subjects for the last two years. I was never good at Maths, and I dropped in in twelfth grade. I never regretted it. *g* But I'm sure they wouldn't have put you there if you were a totally hopeless case, would they? *soothingly* See. LOL, I agree, Glamir should get out more. He would most likely try to torture his dates, though, so maybe it's better if he doesn't. *g* I really hope your mood's improved somewhat; there's some Glorfindel torture here just for you!!  
**Yuuki Ryuu** - Delirious, huh? Well, that just might work, but I doubt it will happen, sorry. And I don't really think that Celylith is comfortable enough around the great "hero" Glorfindel to tell him bedtime stories. *thinks* Hmm, maybe he is, I'll think about it. As I said in the A/N, you know Súliat already, but I will most likely write another story. Not right after this one though, I really need a break. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Hmm, whom did you want tortured, then? The twins? That's not really very nice, they're quite beat up at the moment. I won't get into the whole "Legolas - Sinda or Silvan elf?"-thing, but he most definitely has little or no Noldorin blood. If you meant Glorfindel, just read on, even though it's not really clear whether he was Vanya or Noldo after all. I know, I know, Gondolin was a Noldorin city with a very Noldorin king, but the hair colour is a rather obvious sign for Vanyarin parents. *shrugs* We'll never know, will we? I hope you managed to wait without suffering from any ill effects though! *g*  
**Bookworm, .303** - LOL, yes, the twins are safe - or safeish. *g* I admit that the chances of Ethoani surviving this whole thing unscathed are virtually nonexistent, and her chances of survival aren't much better either. *g* Sorry.   
**Marbienl** - Hmm, I do think we're a little different. I, for example, are not totally obsessed with Estel pain and torture. Don't try to deny it, you are. *g* It was Jack's idea with the spikes, but neither she nor I have seen Hildalgo. It's a movie about a HORSE, for Christ's sake! *shakes head* I don't really like horses. And I have a few ideas for a few other stories, even though I usually don't plan things like that. They just ... well, happen when I write those scenes. *blinks* No, I don't eat Snickers that way. I don't really eat may chocolate bars; they're too sweet for my taste. So it's July 13th, huh? Okay, I'll remember that, and start posting the story then. It will most likely be before I start the new big one, so I should have plenty of time for a few chapters. Oh, and about Girion: He would have loved to kill the councilman, but he couldn't since he was from a very influential family. No one can rule without some support, and, unfortunately, Girion is no fool. And I'm sure that Glorfindel knows that Celylith knows who he is talking about. He didn't really try to hide it, did he? *g*  
**Iccle Fairy** - LOL, the urge to speak like Yoda happens to all of us I think. Amusing it is, hm? *g* I am afraid that Legolas' priorities are not exactly rescuing Ethoani. I really think he's more interested in what happens to Glorfindel and Celylith - which is rather understandable, really. In the end, they're his friends and she is, more or less, a stranger. That's the way things always are. *g*  
**Aratfeniel** - Not only you, my friend. All of us have a twisted mind, otherwise we wouldn't be reading or writing this kind of story. *g* I think it's fun too, which really is all the proof you need. *g* Thanks for all your reviews!  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Indeed, Aragorn is NOT dead. Lucky him. *g* And I have no idea whatsoever why they didn't ask you. Then again, it might be connected to the fact that you love seeing them in pain - what do you think? LOL, yes, what could be wrong in Girion's life? I think he should start with declaring a general amnesty and getting himself a girlfriend. *shrugs* That's just my opinion. *g* You're worried about the other drivers, really? You know, that reminds me of when I got my license. I had just got it a few days ago and wanted to drive my sister and our dog somewhere in my mother's car, and all my mother said was: "If something happens to the car or the dog, I'll kill you." Really, one would think she'd be worried about her two beloved daughters? *shakes head* Mothers.  
**Shauna** - *very, very evil grin* So killing Ethoani isn't part of the plot? Really? What makes you say that? I would be really interested to hear your reasons... *g* Cendan, however, will definitely come in handy. He's very useful, really. *pats his head* I hope you'll be able to read this chapter without too much trouble!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - 28 days (or now 21) sound very nice indeed. I have more than two months left, so I won't even start counting. *g* *blinks* *gets evil idea* You're right, I COULD kill Celylith. Would be nice and angsty, and really interesting since... *trails off and ducks heavy objects* Don't worry, I'm just kidding. I'm not planning to kill him anytime soon, even though it would be a truly interesting idea. It's nice to hear that you liked SP, even though I can't tell you the word. It would ruin everything, besides, I don't know what it is myself. They refused to tell me, I have no idea why. *g* Don't worry btw, I enjoyed your rambling. Very ... fun. *g*  
**Nietta** - LOL, they'll get THE necklace? Well, that's an ... interesting idea... And of course Estel's number would be 13. What else? *g* So you want to bet Girion £100 that Legolas will kill Teonvan? I would strangly recommend you reconsider, really. Right now I am really thinking about letting someone else kill him. Just a friendly warning; £100 are a lot of money. *g* You might have to wait a bit for the second reunion, sorry. Elladan isn't very inclined to wake up at the moment, stubborn twin that he is. *g* Typical.  
**Joshua Nenya** - Pff, ich kann dir endlich mal antworten! Ich hatte schon angefangen zu ueberlegen, ob ich dir eine Dankmail fuer die schoenen Reviews schicken soll, aber das kam mir dann schon ein wenig opportunistisch vor. *g* Also: Danke! *knuddelt* Es ist sehr schoen zu hoeren, dass du meine verrueckten Erguesse bis jetzt mochtest, und es freut mich, dass ich dich ein wenig vom Abistress ablenken konnte. Vor meinen Klausuren habe ich ALLES getan, um nicht lernen zu muesse, ich habe sogar die Fenster in meinem Zimmer geputzt. Das erste und einzige Mal, uebrigens. *g* *rot werd* Vielen Dank fuer all die netten Komplimente. Ich hoffe, ich habe dir nicht wirklich schlaflose Naechte bereitet? Wuerd' ich mich ja glatt schaemen... Und keine Angst: Zukuenftige Reviews werden mit Spannung und Freude erwartet. Nach Zams kann einen nichts mehr schrecken! *g* Noch einmal vielen Dank fuer deine Reviews!  
**Snow-Glory** - Well, the name is actually Oswald Spalding. Please don't ask me from where Zam got that idea; we're probably better off not knowing. *g* I don't really think Rashwe will play an important role yet, sorry. He might have a small scene yet, I'm not sure, but I doubt it will be something like in THOM. Would be boring twice in a row, wouldn't it? Oh, I don't hate hearing that people like Cendan, really. Apart from the fact that I like him too, I would hate to hear that my characters are so one-dimensional that you can only hate or like them. *thinks* Well, Teonvan excluded. He really IS evil. And sick and all that. *g*  
**Grumpy** - Oh, don't worry, the nasty people will be stopped - just not right now. *g* It's very nice to hear that some people actually do things like Glorfindel. He really called all of them Sam? Well, that's ... interesting. *g*   
**Kathleen LaCorneille** - *pats her back* The new chapter's here, don't worry ... everything will be fine, please don't die. I would really hate to kill a reviewer like that... *g* So you don't want Glorfindel to get hurt, huh? Well, it's a little late for that, I'm afraid, but I won't hurt him too seriously, don't worry. I love him, after all, and I can't kill him since they need him in FotR. And you don't like my evil characters? I'm hurt. I have no idea why - they're so ... well, adorable? *shakes head* Well, maybe not, but I still like them. Thanks a lot for your review!  
**Lina** - I had nothing to do with that! Zam must have stolen the ox somehow! *runs over to closet and pulls open the door* No! It's really gone! ZAM!!!! *calms down slightly* Sorry, but I did NOT give Oswald Spalding to Zam. I may be evil, but I'm not completely insane. *g* I am, however, very glad to see you again! *huggles* I really missed you! Another thing I had missed was that Oswald Spalding could talk. *frowns* Reminds me of Shrek, somehow... *g* *sighs tiredly as Lina frees her plot devices* Tell me again why I missed you? Éomer: Because you're just as mas as she is? ROHIRRIM!! Ah yes. That was it. *g*  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - LOL, a whip or a wooden spoon? I won't even ask - but I think I coincidently really used one of the two. Call it karma. *g* And Maths always tended to awaken my bloodthirsty streak, so I know exactly of what you speak. Most of the times I really, REALLY wanted to kill my teacher - or at least harm him severely. *g* Oh, and PS, this wasn't a cliffy. Not a real one, anyway. It was a Cliffy Lite© maybe, but nothing worse. *g*  
**Amelie** - *wide eyes* Hook ... disfigured ... are you sure you're alright? This is a little bit weird, even for you... *g* And I didn't even know that one can react allergic to perfume. It sounds thoroughly unpleasant, though. Poor you. *huggles* LOL, you really want to do that to me if I kill Celylith? Don't you think that would be a little ... I don't know, extreme or something like that? *g* Probably not, you're right. So don't worry, I'm not planning to kill him this fic. I might maim him and scar him for life, however. *evil grin* Thank you so much for saying that my writing is improving - I would be horrified if it didn't, btw - and it's also nice to hear that someone likes my sense of humour. It can be quite weird from time to time. And I would love to see one of them throw a smoke bomb. It would be an interesting sight. Freaky, but interesting. *g* I haven't read that story, or at least not really. I think I started it some time, and didn't really like it somehow. Don't ask me why, I just stopped reading. I might go back and take another look at it now, perhaps it has ... changed. *g* Thanks a lot for the huge review! *huggles*  
**Jera** - I might do an ox-Elrohir-Celylith scene in the end, perhaps something about Elrohir catching Celylith who is trying to take the ox back to Mirkwood. *shrugs* I'll think about it. Just one little note: I think you are quoting some lines, only they don't appear in the review. So I have no idea what you're talking about most of the time - I'm just guessing. For example the "other than"-thing (thanks for pointing that out, btw): I have no idea where I used that phrase. Sorry. *g* *blushes* I am so glad you like my OCs. I'm always quite nervous when I first introduce them, especially when they're female. I don't really know why either. *shrugs* LOL, but I agree. Legolas should try a little 'rest', weird as it may seem to him. It just might help, you can never know. *g* You feel sorry for Girion? Really? That's great! So there is one person except myself who likes him! I have no idea why no one else does, really... And that story about the Romanian colonel reminds me of the Russian grand dukes working as taxi drivers in the years after 1917. Far too many of them. *g* I have weird associations, I know. Happens all the time to me. That quote really fits Sangwar btw, but you're right, "vir callidus" might be an exaggeration. I think "vir callidus" would be more appropriate. *g* You are either thinking just like the evil guys or I am becoming really predictable. But perhaps you're right and it's the obvious thing to do. Hmm, why shouldn't they let me in? First: because I'm a freak. And the thing is, I am not studying to get a Bachelor or a Master, we have a different system. But I think I'll go and ask one of my tutors, who is the only person here who _could_ know how it works. I can only study abroad in half a year anyway; you have to study the first two years here or you won't get a scholarship. *shrugs* That's the thing that really bugs me, all that paperwork. *shudders* I hate paperwork. *snorts* You won't try me to convert me to the glories of Sean Bean? Well, thank you! You know, that whole sentence is a huge paradox, just like "Sean Bean fan" if you ask me... *g* To be honest, I never pictured Legolas at all. I always found him rather irritating (at least in the book, even though he's not my favourite in the movies either), and was far too busy drooling over Aragorn and Éomer. *shrugs* I've always liked those two. And, last but not least, I am extremely flattered that you're trying to figure out a way to get back to the net quicker. It's slightly frightening, but also very flattering. *g* Once again, thanks for the huge review! *huggles*  
  
**Thank you for all the great reviews! I don't really know what else to say, so: Group Hug! *****huggles reviewers***


	29. Come Like Shadows

** Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.

**A/N:**  
  
**Don't tell me, I know I'm late. I don't really have a good excuse either, except for the fact that I really didn't have the time to update. (Obviously. Duh.) I'm really busy at the moment with that horrible paper that just refuses to be written - most likely because the topic doesn't interest me in the slightest, I think - and I just couldn't find the time to edit this chapter. I honestly can't tell you how I managed with THOM, I think it has something to do with the fact that the chapters were a lot shorter. I hope you forgive me, and I promise to try and post the last counts on her fingers** **three chapters on time.   
  
And before you ask, FF.net's new little tool of doom, QuickEdit or whatever it name may be, has given me TONS of trouble and has, among other things, decided it doesn't like my little stars and removes them every time I try to** **upload something. I hope they** **fix that, because I really really like them. Yes, I'm weird, but I just hate it when FF.net does that. Every time you think you've finally managed to come up with a** **formatting you like, it goes and destroys everything. grrr I hate it, I really do.  
  
That being said, I have to say that I'm glad you liked the Glorfindel torture scene, small as it was. I have to admit that Glamir didn't really like it so much, he was rather ... disappointed the last time I saw him. shakes head He's NOT a happy camper right now. I'm also happy to see that Cendan is so popular. I'm quite attached to him, but then again, I'm quite attached to all of my OCs. Yes, even to Girion and Glamir. g  
  
Alright, here's another rather quiet chapter, which could also be named "The Calm Before the Storm II". It will also be the last, don't worry, things will be getting interesting really soon. g So, what do we have ... one of the twins wakes up, Legolas is not very amused about several things, Glorfindel comes to a realisation about the wood-elves in general, and we have multiple cases of rather serious elf angst. g Fun, eh?  
  
Have fun and review, please!**

* * *

Chapter 29   
  
Several times Aragorn would almost have returned to full awareness, but it never seemed to be fully worth the trouble. Deep down he knew that Legolas and his brothers were safe, so there really was no reason for him to leave this peaceful, restful state behind and to return to reality.   
  
In the end, he more or less drifted out of sleep, prompted by something he couldn't really identify. A few moments later, when his mind had cleared sufficiently, he realised that it had been the light that fell on his face that had caused him to wake up. The warmth was most definitely welcome, but the brightness was beginning to make sleep impossible.   
  
Another few moments later he frowned slightly as he came to the conclusion that he should feel a lot colder than he actually did. His memory was still slightly hazy as it always was when he woke up from drug-induced sleep or one that had been preceded by extreme exhaustion, but he thought he remembered clearly enough that he had been wearing only his breeches and a light shirt when he had come here. The chair he was resting in had been quite a long way away from the small fireplace, it was February, and by all means he should more or less resemble an icicle by now.   
  
He moved slightly in his armchair, astonished more than surprised that he hadn't frozen to the piece of furniture, and something soft and warm that was spread over his body moved with him. A blanket, he realised a moment later with a small smile. Well, that explained quite a lot, didn't it?   
  
Aragorn enjoyed the warmth and the feeling of lazy contentment for a few more seconds before he slowly opened his eyes and began to move into a more or less sitting position. His neck and back informed him about how very foolish it had been to spend more than twelve hours in an armchair – something he already knew – and a stab of pain shot down his spine. He ignored it with the long practice he had acquired by now for pains and hurts like these and blinked, trying to get his surroundings into focus.   
  
It took him a while to adjust his eyes to the bright morning sunlight that streamed through the window into the small room, but as soon as they did the fond smile on his lips began to grow. The first thing he noticed was that both of the twins were still sound asleep, something that filled him with contentment and mild worry. He knew close to everything about the limits and extents of elven recuperating powers, and at least Elrohir should have woken up by now. He cocked his head slightly to the side, studying his two brothers. It appeared that neither of the two had moved at all during the night.   
  
That thought confused him slightly, and he slowly turned his head to the left, already suspecting what he would see. Just as he had thought, an armchair had been dragged up next to him, and in it sat a sleeping person who was most likely responsible for his relatively warm state and the absence of small ice crystals all over his body. The smile on his face grew even more as he reached out and carefully tugged the blanket Legolas had wrapped around himself back over the elf's body. It appeared that Legolas had woken up sometime in the night and had followed him here – undoubtedly cursing under his breath the entire time. It didn't surprise him in the slightest, of course, and if he was perfectly honest with himself he would most likely even have been worried had Legolas not been here when he awoke.   
  
He was still mulling over whether or not he should get up and get himself something to eat (he was feeling famished all of the sudden, something that was probably a good sign) or if he should stay here and watch his brothers and friend a while longer, when the curled up elf next to him shifted slightly and opened one eyelid, using a slightly bleary silver-blue eye to give him a disapproving look.   
"One of these days, _dúnadan_, I will put a leash on you. I swear I will."   
  
"My father used to say the same thing," Aragorn nodded seriously. "When I became old enough to use blades and other sharp objects, he reconsidered and began talking about a cowbell."   
  
"That just might work," Legolas nodded earnestly and began to push himself up into what was probably meant to be sitting position. "It would have to be a rather large one, though."   
  
"_Ada _came to the same conclusion," the young man told him cheerily. "He finally gave up, content in the knowledge that he merely had to follow blood, chaos and mayhem to find me or the twins."

"I always knew there was a reason why Lord Elrond is counted among the Wise," Legolas said seriously and gave the young ranger next to him a wry look. "So, did you sleep well?"   
  
"I did, thank you, my friend," Aragorn nodded. "Thank you for the blanket."   
  
"I did it for your sake as much as for mine," Legolas shrugged with mock nonchalance. "I would not want to return to your father bearing the news that I had allowed you to freeze to an armchair and that he would have to wait for your arrival until spring thaw had set in." He sat up a bit straighter and brushed a few strands of hair that had escaped their braids out of his eyes. "But the next time I would be very thankful for a note, or, if you do not have time or the utensils to write, a drawing or a map of some sort."   
  
"Why, were you worried?" Aragorn asked slyly, being perfectly able to imagine the short spell of panic Legolas had most likely felt upon seeing his empty bed.   
  
"About _you_, human?" Legolas asked back haughtily and with all the disbelief he could muster so shortly after having woken. "Don't be ridiculous."   
  
"Ha!" Aragorn exclaimed, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment and resolutely avoiding thinking about anything but their bantering. "So you _were _worried! You can just admit it, you know."   
  
"I was most certainly not, ranger," Legolas snorted, his eyes twinkling merrily. "I was many things when I woke up and found you gone, among them annoyed, irritated and happy that you wouldn't bother me with that infernal snoring of yours any longer, but 'worried' was not something that would have described my mental state."   
  
"Snoring?" Aragorn asked back, apparently greatly offended. "Who was snoring?! I do not snore!"   
  
"Oh yes, you do."   
  
"I do not!"   
  
"Yes, you do."   
  
"I do no…"   
  
"Excuse me," a soft voice to their right interrupted their bickering. "Some people are trying to sleep here."   
  
For a moment both the elf and the dark haired ranger stared at each other suspiciously, as if wondering if the other had spoken the words, but then a shared realisation began to spread over their faces and they whirled to the right, an action that was accompanied in both cases with quickly hidden winces.   
  
"Elrohir!" Aragorn exclaimed softly. "Brother, you have no idea how good it is to see you awake! I was beginning to get worried – even if Legolas did not, mind you. He doesn't worry, after all."   
  
"I do worry," Legolas shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, the woollen blanket he had grabbed before he had left his room in search of his missing human friend still wrapped tightly around his body. "I simply do not worry about that human your father took in out of reasons I cannot even begin to comprehend." A smile spread over the fair haired elf's face and he would have reached out to grab the younger twin's hand if it hadn't been so firmly encased in Aragorn's fingers. "Good morning, _mellon nín_. You and that brother of yours gave us quite a scare."   
  
"Look who's talking," Elrohir remarked softly and squinted into the sunlight, his eyes wandering from Aragorn to Legolas and back to his younger brother again. "You two scared more people than Elladan and I could ever hope to."   
  
The mention of his older brother redirected his thoughts to the whereabouts of his twin, and without thinking Elrohir began to sit up, ignoring both the complaints his body began to screech at him at the movement and the dark, disapproving expressions on his human brother's and his friend's face.  
  
"Elladan?" he asked worriedly, grey eyes beginning to sweep over the part of the room he could survey. "He is here, isn't he? Where is he? There was a potion, some sort of poison that they used on him; the girl said it could be deadly! Is he alright, where…"   
  
"Hush," Aragorn tried to soothe the agitated elf and placed one hand on his chest, both to calm him down and to press him back onto the mattress. "He is well, don't worry."   
  
He had to apply only the tiniest bit of pressure to urge his brother to lie down again, something that caused him to frown inwardly in concern. It was usually nigh impossible to stop one twin from mindlessly worrying about the other, and the only person who had ever managed to do so without drugging them was their father and, from what he'd heard, the twins' mother before she had sailed. To see Elrohir comply so easily was nearly enough to cause him to start panicking as well.   
  
Knowing full well that the younger twin wouldn't calm down until he had seen that Elladan was safe and well, he gently reached out and turned his bandaged head to the right, taking great care not to exert any pressure or to touch any bruises.   
"See?" he asked softly, watching how Elrohir's body relaxed once he caught sight of his unconscious twin who was lying in the bed next to him. "Elladan will be just fine. Trust me, _muindor nín_. He will recover, and so will you."   
  
"I do trust you," Elrohir finally said softly as he rather unwillingly wrenched his eyes away from his twin brother's motionless body. "It is just that your idea of the meaning of the term 'fine' differs hugely from anyone else's."   
  
"Hear, hear," Legolas' wry voice commented to Aragorn's left, and the man turned briefly to shoot the elf a dark glare before turning back to his adopted brother.   
  
"I will not even honour that with an answer, brother," he told him with a small smile, his eyes wandering over the elf's pale face. "How do you feel, Elrohir?" he continued in a more serious tone of voice. "Are you in pain? How many fingers am I holding up?"   
  
He raised four fingers and watched with both amusement and worry how Elrohir squinted and glared at his fingers as if they were a pack of attacking orcs. A few seconds passed, and a look of resigned acceptance flittered over the younger twin's face.   
"Since when do you have nine fingers per hand, Estel?"   
  
"That settles it, then," Legolas remarked wryly into Aragorn's direction, who merely nodded and frowned at his elven brother.   
  
"Indeed," the ranger echoed the elven prince's sentiments. "How is the headache?"   
  
"What headache?" Elrohir asked innocently and leaned back, his words being belied almost instantly as pain flashed over his face when his bound skull touched the pillow.   
  
"I see," Aragorn commented dryly. "Well, let me summarise your symptoms: Strong headache, inability to focus, sensitivity to bright light, nausea … did I miss anything?"   
  
"Has no one ever taught you to respect your elders, young one?" Elrohir grumbled irritated, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. His brain seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size, and was right about now apparently trying to force its way out of his skull via his ears and eye sockets.   
  
"I don't think so," Aragorn retorted good-naturedly, beginning to sift through the assorted medicines on the small nightstand. It appeared that Thesieni had had a specific system in mind when she had put her healing utensils here; every healer he knew had a specific system. The only problem was that he had no idea what Thesieni's was. "You never tried, for instance."   
  
"We did, we merely despaired of you and gave up when you were four years old," Elrohir retorted. A serious expression once again began to spread over his face, and he turned to Legolas who looked back at him with a small smile on his lips. "Could you please tell me what is going on here, my friend? I feel as if I know only the refrain of a song, but as if the main parts are constantly changing and slipping out of my grasp. I would very much like to hear what has happened to you two before my dear brother sends me back to sleep with one of these horrible medicines whose recipes I begged father not to share with him."   
  
Legolas ignored Aragorn's mock-outraged mumbling and nodded at the younger twin.   
"Certainly, Elrohir. Why don't you tell us what has happened to you, and I'll answer whatever questions you might have after that."   
  
Elrohir narrowed his eyes, his befuddled mind telling him faintly that that wasn't really what he had been proposing, but in the end he relented with a tiny nod.   
"Alright," he consented softly, finding that speaking too loudly increased his headache even more. "It all began with a totally unprovoked attack on Elladan and me by your much beloved friend; Celylith is his name I believe. We were journeying peacefully through the woods of your home, had spied a fire and were going to investigate just in case someone needed our help, when he attacked us most knavishly from behind…"   
  
Elrohir went on in this particular manner that reminded both Legolas and Aragorn distinctly of Glorfindel when he was telling another story of one of his heroic deeds or another, and after nearly twenty minutes he had told them what had happened to the two of them, Glorfindel and Celylith since they had left Mirkwood ten days ago. Seeing the way Elrohir's eyelids were once again beginning to drop, Legolas told him hurriedly the most important things the twin needed to know, and a few minutes later a heavy silence fell between the three of them.   
  
"So he wants Dale and Lake-town," the younger twin finally said in a soft voice. "He is mad, isn't he?"   
  
"Quite so," Legolas nodded seriously.   
  
"Well, that is not much of a surprise," Elrohir retorted, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. "I've had that suspicion for some time now." He turned his head slowly to the side and looked at Aragorn who was sitting on the edge of his armchair, an empty goblet whose contents he had persuaded the dark haired elf to swallow still in his hands. Elrohir slowly and carefully lifted a hand and touched his younger brother's upper arm, feeling the bandage that wound around the biceps. "This man … Teonvan, he did this?"   
  
A small shadow flickered over the man's face and he found a sudden interest in the cup in his hands. He shrugged eloquently and began fiddling with the goblet.   
"Yes," he finally admitted softly.   
  
The tiredness on the younger twin's face was pushed back for a few moments, and a dangerous, dark glint flickered to life in his eyes.   
"I think he and I will have to have a little talk. A very … serious talk."   
  
"Of course," Legolas nodded soothingly, inwardly vowing just the same thing. He would do his best to have a little talk with Teonvan as well. "But now you have to rest, my friend."   
  
"No," the other elf shook his head minutely and winced when pain stabbed through his temples. "What … what are we going to do now?"   
  
"_We _are going to do nothing," Aragorn stressed and pulled the blankets that covered his brother's body up to the elf's chin. "You are going to rest and will let us worry about Celylith and Glorfindel."   
  
"Estel," was all the elf said, but the look on his face was one that looked so much like Elrond's that Aragorn smiled slightly.   
  
"Alright," the young man nodded. "You remember the lieutenant Legolas told you about, the half-Easterling? He agreed to help us; his motives aren't important right now. Tomorrow at noon we will try and free Celylith, Glorfindel and the girl who helped you escape."   
  
Elrohir's mind might be tired and overcome with pain, but he was not so far gone that he didn't understand what his adopted brother was implying.   
"What is happening tomorrow at noon?"   
  
Legolas and Aragorn traded a quick look, and the fair haired elf finally inclined his head.   
"They are planning to execute Glorfindel."   
  
"Execute Glorfindel," Elrohir echoed emotionlessly. "I see."   
  
"We won't let it happen," Aragorn shook his head firmly. "Just imagine what _ ada _would say! No, there is no way I will allow them to kill him and make me go through that." He gave the elf a long look. "And now you should sleep, brother. You need rest."   
  
The elven twin's eyes were beginning to close despite his obvious struggles to keep them open, but he still wasn't prepared to give up so easily.   
"But … how … there are too many guards, you would never … get close without…"   
  
Tired, pain-filled grey eyes finally closed, and Legolas gave his elven friend a small smile before he looked over at Aragorn, a mildly amused twinkle in his eyes. He gave the already half-asleep elf in front of him a look of mock seriousness.  
"Don't worry, Elrohir, everything will be alright. I," he added with a flourish, "have a plan."   
  
The fair haired elf's words reached Elrohir's ears through the thick haze that was beginning to envelop him, and it took him quite a long time to understand their meaning. When he finally did, a small shiver of amusement mixed with dread raced through him, but not even that was enough to dispel the dark mists that were beginning to pull him under. With a small sigh he surrendered to them, inwardly shaking his head.   
  
'Legolas has a plan. The Valar help us.'

  
  
The cell door was closed with a creaking, shrill noise, and only after the footsteps of the guards had faded into the distance Celylith allowed his disinterested, contemptuous mask to drop. He leaned back against the stone wall behind him and took a few shallow breaths, trying to will his legs not to give out from under him, something which they were most willing to do at the moment. The darkness had begun to close in on him these past few hours, and he was feeling as if a huge weight had been placed atop his chest. He had never been fond of being underground, a dislike that had only increased over the years, and every time he thought he had managed to get his fears under control, he would hear the stones shift above his head and his control was torn asunder once more.   
  
After a few seconds, when he was certain that he wouldn't pass out (it truly had been a stupid idea to get up when he had heard the guards draw closer), he pushed himself off the wall and moved over to the motionless figure the men had thrown into the room a few moments ago. He had lost count how many times it had happened to the both of them, and right now he wasn't very inclined to try and remember either. He would have tried to catch his companion, but somehow he had been unable to convince his body to move fast enough.   
  
After only two or three stumbling steps he reached the still body and dropped down to his knees, wincing openly when the impact jarred his injuries. He rather awkwardly reached out with his left hand and, after some failed tries, managed to turn the other over onto his back, doing his best not to wince when he saw the amount of his injuries.   
  
He sighed tiredly and wondered for a brief moment just what Hithrawyn would do if he ever got his hands on them. Or better yet, what Lord Elrond would do if he ever got his hands on them. He shuddered inwardly. There was no way he would go anywhere near Rivendell for the next few decades, absolutely no way. The East of Middle-earth had never appeared as appealing as now in his eyes, even if this part of it left a lot to be desired in terms of hospitality – or sanity, now that he thought about it.   
  
With an effort, the silver haired elf forced himself to return to the present, his eyes desperately trying to pierce the gloom that lay heavily over the small room. He had never been exceedingly skilled at controlling the intensity of the light his body emitted, but he was beginning to suspect that, right now, it wouldn't have mattered either if he had been. His body was so weakened and exhausted that his light was almost non-existent.   
  
Inwardly muttering a curse that wished a plague on the heads of all the men in this castle, he leaned a bit closer, using his uninjured hand to feel for any broken bones. He didn't have to search for long, and the small moan the unconscious elf in front of him emitted confirmed his suspicions. Celylith gritted his teeth as he sat back a little. What was that now, the fifth or sixth broken rib?   
  
Abandoning that train of thought as unimportant, he was about to lean forward again, only to very nearly collapse onto the unconscious elf's body as a sudden bout of nausea washed over him. It took him quite some time to convince himself that his head wouldn't explode and that his insides weren't trying to twist themselves into numerous knots, and when he had finally managed to do so, a small groan prompted him to open his eyes again.   
  
He ignored his protesting body and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the face of the other elf that was lying in front of him.   
"My lord?" he asked softly. "My Lord Glorfindel?"   
  
For a few moments, the golden haired elf did not move, and only when Celylith carefully reached out with a hand and brushed some strands of hair away from his face did the elf lord stir slightly. A second later, one of his eyes opened slowly, quickly followed by the other. He blinked a couple of times, obviously trying to focus on the face that was hovering over his.   
"Celylith?"   
  
"Yes, my lord," the younger elf nodded in what he hoped was a soothing, reassuring way. Not that it would matter much, he thought with a little bit amusement. Lord Glorfindel was anything but stupid, and he knew perfectly well how grave their situation really was. "Were you expecting someone else?"   
  
"Not really," Glorfindel admitted wryly and grasped the younger elf's offered hand, trying to push himself into a sitting position. "Experience, however, has taught me never to assume anything when you have the means to make sure."   
  
"A very wise attitude," Celylith retorted as he did his best to help the other sit up and carefully pulled both of them backwards so they could lean against the wall. He gave the bloody and bruised elf he held more or less upright a wry look, doing his best to hide his ever-growing fear and worry. Lord Glorfindel did not look good at all. He raised an eyebrow in a disapproving matter that he had seen his father use many times in the past. "What in the name of Elbereth did you tell him this time, my lord?"   
  
The corners of the elf lord's mouth twitched and would almost have twisted into a smile.   
"I am beginning to suspect that it doesn't matter what I tell him. He seems to take offence at my very presence, and yet he always insists on it. Trust an old elf's words, _pen-neth_: Everyone east of Esgaroth is mad."   
  
"You need not try to convince me of that," Celylith shook his head slightly, trying to ignore the tickling sensation that was beginning to grow in his chest. "I have already come to that conclusion, my lord."   
  
He was about to ask the blond elf what other injuries apart from the broken ribs he had suffered from his little "session" with Glamir this time, but at that point the tickling refused to be ignored any longer, and a second later he erupted into a coughing fit he was unable to suppress any longer. Celylith knew that, in reality, it couldn't have lasted much longer than twenty or maybe thirty seconds at the most, but to him it felt like an eternity. Every hacking cough seemed to worsen that pain that was already pulsing through his body, and for a second or two he was sure he could feel the edges of one of his own broken ribs grind again each other – a courtesy of _his _last "session" with Glamir.   
  
After a decade or two the coughing eased and finally abated completely, and the silver haired elf all but collapsed against the wall, feeling as if the last of his strength had just evaporated into thin air. As soon as the burning in his chest had lessened somewhat and his head had stopped spinning around its own axis, he raised his head a little and opened his eyes, looking straight into the worried eyes of the golden haired elf next to him who was too weak himself at the moment to do anything but look at him.   
  
"I would ask you if you are alright, but I think we both know the answer to that," Glorfindel said softly, suppressing a cough himself.   
  
"I'm … fine," Celylith wheezed, still trying to regain his breath. "It is you I am … worried about right now, my lord."   
  
Glorfindel was oddly touched by the younger elf's concern, however misplaced it might be, and opened his mouth to tell him just that, only to close it again with a small snap that reopened his split lip. Celylith may be young and far from up to his usual strength right now, but both of them knew that neither of them was "fine" or "alright".   
  
The blond elf painfully shuffled backwards a little and winced openly when his cut back touched the cool, damp stone wall. This had been the … third time he had been dragged to Glamir's little chamber of horror (a term Celylith had come up with some time ago). After the first "session" he had thought it rather unlikely that Glamir could come up with anything more painful to do to him, but he had swiftly been proven wrong. There were many things one could say about the small man, but he was most definitely not unimaginative.   
  
The only tiny spark of light in this otherwise pitch-black situation was that Glamir was so busy trying to make him break that he had only "interrogated" the younger elf twice. The man had been careful not to injure either of them too seriously, in Celylith's case to make sure he would still be able to tell his lord what he wanted to hear and in his case so that they still had something left to execute tomorrow morning, or so he suspected. He didn't know anything about the twins, but neither Glamir nor the guards mentioned them anymore. They weren't sure what that meant, but both had agreed to boldly assume that it was a good thing and that, with the help of the Valar, the two had somehow managed to escape.   
  
Glorfindel tried to ignore the pain that lanced through his torso in rhythm with his heartbeat and narrowed his eyes as far as he could, considering one of them was nearly swollen shut. The younger elf who was leaning against the wall next to him didn't look good at all; something that could also said about himself, he was sure. The wood-elf's glow was even dimmer than his own, something that was mainly to be accredited to his comparative youth, and in what little light their bodies produced the wounds that were visible on his body looked even more serious than they had before.   
  
He shook his head inwardly. If Glamir went on like this, the young one would run out of undamaged skin long before the man lost the taste for carving lines into his face and torso. What was worrying him far more than the cuts, however, was Glamir's little game he had started a while ago. The second time they had "interrogated" the younger elf, Celylith had come back with a large number of fresh bruises, a lot of new cuts and a dislocated right wrist. Last time he had sported even more cuts, a bleeding head wound, more darkening bruises and a dislocated right elbow. Next would be his shoulder, both of them knew that, and neither of them really wanted to think about what Glamir would do when he'd be finished with his right arm.   
  
He would probably start with the left arm, Glorfindel thought to himself, feeling dark anger and hatred well up inside of him. And after that with his right leg, most likely. The elf hadn't thought it possible, but his feelings of contempt and hate had grown ever stronger, and when he thought about the fact that Glamir had done the same to Estel, the prince and the twins, it was enough to make him nearly lose his composure. They were all so young yet, and no matter what they'd already seen and done, they were far too young for things like these. Not that one could ever become old enough for them, he added darkly.   
  
"My lord?" the Silvan elf's voice drew Glorfindel back out of his thoughts, and the elf lord blinked and looked up, right into the younger elf's worried dark blue eyes.   
  
Celylith was still leaning against the wall, his right arm cradled to himself, and a sharp stab of fear went through Glorfindel's heart. He didn't fear much nowadays, he did in fact fear nothing but that he would be unable to protect those he loved or was responsible for, but right now he was deeply afraid of the possibility that his limited healing abilities wouldn't be enough for much longer. He had managed to straighten the wrist without much trouble, but the elbow had been rather tricky, and the younger elf had been unconscious and he himself drenched in sweat by the time he had managed to force the bones back into their places. He already dreaded the time he would have to reset the wood-elf's shoulder – and he would have to, he was sure about it. Glamir always "interrogated" them within hours of each other – probably another of the man's little games.   
  
With an inward headshake Glorfindel forced himself to abandon these thoughts and returned his attention to the anxious elf in front of him.   
"Yes?"  
"What else did they do, except break another of your ribs?"   
  
For a moment, Glorfindel contemplated not answering, but then he reconsidered. The other would find out anyway, sooner rather than later.   
"I think my left collarbone is cracked. It might also be broken, I'm not sure."   
  
"You could have mentioned that sooner, my lord," Celylith pointed out with a dark look that wasn't that much different from the look the silver haired elf's liege used to give people who had incurred his wrath.   
  
"And what would you have done?" the older elf inquired softly. "We don't get any more water until tomorrow morning and we've long since run out of bandages. There's nothing you or I can do, young one, and you know it."   
  
"Well – yes," Celylith admitted reluctantly.   
  
Glorfindel merely gave him the tiniest hint of a smile and didn't answer, a carefully emotionless expression on his face, and the younger elf's eyes narrowed, the pain in his body suddenly forgotten for the moment. He looked at the blond elf for several moments, apparently wrestling with something, and finally opened his mouth to speak, a somewhat tentative and at the same time determined expression on his face.   
"What is it you are not telling me, my lord?"   
  
A small flicker of surprise fluttered over the golden haired elf's face before he quickly regained control over his features.   
"I am not sure I understand you, _pen-neth_."   
  
"There is something you are not telling me, my lord," Celylith repeated softly. "What is it?"   
  
"Are you accusing me of lying, son of Celythramir?" Glorfindel asked incredulously, an eyebrow arched in a faintly disapproving manner.   
  
If Glorfindel had thought that this manner of address would impress the younger elf, he was mistaken, for Celylith merely clenched his jaw and refused to look away, a steely glint in his eyes that reminded the elf lord of the other's father.   
"No, my lord, of course not," Celylith answered smoothly. "I am accusing you of withholding the full extent of the truth from me."   
  
Glorfindel didn't reply in any way and merely looked at him in a manner that made Celylith feel suddenly sympathetic with the other's fellow councilmen (and Lord Elrond, for that matter), and the younger elf shook his head slightly, a small smile on his face.   
"I know that, in your eyes, I am merely an elfling, my lord, but this is not true. You grow up fast in Mirkwood, and I am over 2500 years old. It may be just the blink of an eye for you, but believe me, I am no child. I know when someone isn't telling me everything. They told you something, something you do not wish me to know."   
  
"It is of no great importance," Glorfindel brushed the younger elf's words aside. "There is nothing you can do anyway."   
  
"Then at least tell me what it is," Celylith replied evenly. "If it is of no great importance, then it surely will not matter whether or not I know about it."   
  
"It is not that I don't trust you," Glorfindel shook his head the tiniest bit, wincing as that slightly movement renewed the pain in his body. "I merely did not wish to add to your worries."   
  
"With what, my lord?" Celylith pressed.   
  
Glorfindel sighed slightly, deciding that he should have hidden his feelings better. It would have been so much easier that way.   
"My execution is scheduled tomorrow at noon, or so I've been informed."   
  
Celylith's mouth fell open and he blinked unbelievingly as he leaned forward, totally ignoring the complaints his body screeched at him. It was obvious that he had expected anything but this, and it took him quite some time to find his voice.   
"What?" he finally whispered incredulously. "My lord, this is not the time for jests!"   
  
"I am perfectly serious," Glorfindel replied darkly. "If I were jesting, it would sound something like this: A troll, an orc and…"   
  
"My lord!"   
  
Glorfindel smiled slightly at the younger one's indignant tone of voice.   
"Glamir told me yesterday that they would execute me tomorrow at midday. He did not name any specific reasons, but I guess it is both to state an example and to draw our friends out."   
  
Celylith forced himself to calm down as far as he could, his thoughts spinning sickeningly.   
"Why?" he finally asked. "Why only you and not me?"   
  
"That is rather obvious, is it not?" Glorfindel asked calmly. "They need you, Celylith. In case they do not manage to recapture Prince Legolas, you are the only person who could possibly tell them what Girion wants to hear."   
  
"I won't tell them anything," the silver haired elf retorted heatedly. "I would never betray my king or my people!"   
  
"I know," Glorfindel nodded seriously, "I know that, young one. But they do not. They will not risk letting you die until you have served your purpose."   
  
"But…" Celylith began, only to trail off as another thought struck him. "The prince! He will walk right into their trap! I know him and Estel, they will not allow this to happen without attempting some sort of rescue!"   
  
"I agree," Glorfindel said quietly. "If they are out there and are able to, they will undoubtedly come. However, they may be reckless, but they are not stupid. I am sure they will have come up with one of their escape plans that mysteriously even work – most of the time."

"And what if not?" Celylith asked softly. "Far be it from my mind to question my prince's abilities, but we don't know in what condition they will be, if they are free to move at all. What if they do not manage to come and free you before it is too late?"   
  
"Then," Glorfindel retorted earnestly, "I will join those of my friends and kin who are still abiding in the Halls of Waiting."   
  
"How can you be dispassionate?" Celylith asked incredulously. "You cannot die, my lord! You cannot just give up and let them kill you! Surely you do not wish to return to _Námo's _dwelling and leave Arda behind once more?! "   
  
"I do not _wish _to die again, young one," the golden haired elf shook his head. "Mandos' Halls are too uneventful for my taste, but it appears that we will have little say in that matter. No," he raised a hand when the younger elf opened his mouth to speak once more, "let me finish, Celythramirion. I have lived two good lives here on Arda, something that few of our people can claim. The second was a gift I never hoped to gain, and even though I do not know whether or not I have proven myself worthy of it yet, I have enjoyed every moment of it. I do not wish to go, but I am ready for that journey if it comes to it. The only thing I regret is that I will have failed in my duty to protect my lord and his family."   
  
Celylith shook his head. It was feeling rather surreal to discuss this topic with the reborn warrior from Gondolin.   
"Lord Elrond will not reprimand you for anything, my lord. There is no way you could have known."   
  
"No, he will most likely not," the other shook his head as well. "And yet it matters not and changes little, at least for me. You know of what I speak, I think."   
  
"I do indeed, my lord," the silver haired elf admitted softly. "I do indeed."   
  
"Do you see now why I didn't want to tell you this?" Glorfindel went on. "There is nothing you or I can do to influence what will happen. All we can do is keep our strength up and try to be ready when the time comes."   
  
"You should repeat that in Glamir's presence," Celylith grumbled so softly that the words were hardly audible.   
  
"I would do it if I had any hope at all that it would be of any use," Glorfindel smiled slightly. "I have the very distinct feeling that Glamir is not very interested in anything I have to say."   
  
"Be careful, my lord," Celylith cautioned softy. "Whatever may happen tomorrow at noon, it is not a good idea to bait that human. He hates you with all his heart; you can see it in his eyes every time you are mentioned."   
  
"The feeling is mutual," the blond elf answered curtly.   
  
"I can't dispute that," the other smiled slightly. "I am not too fond of him myself. I fear I am running out of joints."   
  
"And I am running out of ribs," Glorfindel nodded. "It is rather inconvenient, is it not?"   
  
For a few moments, they merely looked at each other, unreadable expressions on their faces. A couple of seconds later both of them started laughing softly, the clear sound mirth seeming starkly out of place in the dark, depressing surroundings. The hilarity of the moment would have lasted a lot longer had their bodies been up to it, and they stopped quickly only because the laughter jarred their injuries too much.   
  
Glorfindel tried to get his erratic breathing under control, still fighting off waves of near-hysterical laughter. Considering the way his collarbone felt, namely as if the balrog had paid him another small visit (only that this time, it had decided to sit on him rather than burn him alive), he was rather sure that it was broken, and it most certainly thought that laughing was a stupid idea. Well, he thought sarcastically, his collarbone just might be on to something.   
  
The silver haired elf next to him had stopped laughing as well, his right arm clutched to his chest and his face the colour of dirty snow, and Glorfindel found himself once again marvelling at how young he looked. It must have to do something with him being from Mirkwood, he thought, it was just the same thing with Prince Legolas. The wood-elves' home was constantly besieged by darkness, more so than any other elven realm on this side of the Western Sea. There was a battle-hardened air that surrounded most of the Silvan folk of Mirkwood, and once it disappeared the youth of some of them became even more readily apparent.   
  
Glorfindel shook his head inwardly. No matter how much this young one insisted on being an adult (just like Estel, the prince, Elladan and Elrohir), in his eyes he was anything but, and right now he looked too young to have even reached his majority.   
"Don't worry," he said softly, eyes still fixed on his companion's cut face. "It will be alright."   
  
Celylith smiled slightly, his left arm clutching both his ribs and his right arm in an attempt to ease the pain that had awoken in the battered limb.   
"As I told you before, my lord: I do not really think so."   
  
"And it will be as I say, you'll see," Glorfindel said with far more conviction than he actually felt.   
  
"Is that so, my lord?" Celylith arched a dark silver eyebrow. "Well, in that case – would you care to place a wager?"   
  
"You wish to bet about something like this?" the other elf asked amusedly.   
  
"Is there something else you would rather do?" Celylith asked back. "I am sure we have counted the stones in the wall only about five times, so we could do that again. Or we could pace, even though it has lost quite a bit of its appeal as well, at least for me."   
  
The elf lord shuddered inwardly, the mere idea of getting up and actually _ walking _causing a dull stab of pain to stab through his torso and shoulder. He allowed himself to stop thinking about what might have happened to the other four young ones, what Elrond would do to him if he found out that he had allowed them to get involved in this catastrophe and that, if Girion and his men had their way, he would die in less than twenty hours, and finally nodded minutely, a small sparkle of amusement and mischief in his eyes. One could say a lot about Thranduil's subjects, but they were not boring.   
  
"Alright," he inclined his head. "What are your odds then, young one?"   
  
Celylith leaned back against the wall, a wide grin on his face. Lord Glorfindel truly had the most amazing talent to divert your attention to whatever subject he chose, something that could be both a blessing and a curse.   
  
"Well," he began, collecting his thoughts, "Let's not make it too hard. I think we should start with defining the term 'alright'. I refuse to accept either Estel's or Prince Legolas' definition."   
  
Glorfindel narrowed his eye that was currently not busy swelling shut.   
"'Alright' means 'alive and not seriously damaged'."   
  
"That, again, is a matter of interpretation," Celylith pointed out calmly, apparently more than accustomed to discussions such as this one. "For example, would it be 'alright' if…"   
  
It went on like this for quite some time, and when they had in the end agreed on specific odds after more than an hour, Glorfindel had revised his previous statement. Everyone east of the Gladden Fields was mad, even though that was a realisation he would neither share with his young companion nor with the son of Oropher or any of his subjects.

  
  
Legolas was doing this on purpose, he was sure about it. It would be just the kind of thing he would do, stubborn elf that he was.   
  
Aragorn growled inwardly and gave the wall in front of him a fiery look that would nearly have set the wood panelling on fire. This was the elf's revenge for yesterday; there was simply no other explanation.   
  
The young man finished putting on his boots, still cursing under his breath, and quickly stood to his feet, feeling immense satisfaction when the world didn't start spinning around him as it had done the past day. He was still riddled with enough holes to give an orc lair a run for its money and was beginning to suspect that it would take him at least half a century regain his former strength, but he was making progress. He could stand unaided – that was something, wasn't it?   
  
And it was a good thing he could stand, too, he thought a moment later. This way he could go, find Legolas and strangle him. Or talk some sense into him, whatever was easier. He shook his head as he reached for the doorknob. He had woken up about half an hour ago, and had needed several minutes to regain his wits sufficiently to find out what had caused him to wake up in the first place. In the end he had turned to the side, and had cursed softly when he had laid eyes on Legolas' empty bed.   
  
Yes, he decided darkly as he closed the door behind him. Legolas had done this on purpose, just to make him feel what it was like to wake up and find that your friend had disappeared in a city where about ninety-nine percent of the populace wanted to kill him. Aragorn shook his head slightly, inwardly still fantasising about what he would do to that reckless elf when he got his hands on him, and turned to the right, soundlessly walking down the corridor. There were quite a few places where Legolas could be, and the most obvious one was the twins' room.   
  
The young ranger walked down the corridor, every once in a while freezing on the spot when a floorboard protested loudly against his weight. He needn't have bothered though; the only person who was occupying this wing of the house's first level was Laenro whose chambers were to the left of their room. Laenro, however, was probably still downstairs, working through the night with Sero and the rest of his men to co-ordinate everything and to make sure that his men would be ready tomorrow at noon.   
  
The anxiety that was residing in the pit of his stomach and that had yet to abate even the tiniest bit grew anew at his thoughts, and the young man was unable to push it aside. Yes, he was afraid of tomorrow, he was even very afraid. There were so many risks, for all of them, and the chance that they would all die without managing to prevent Glorfindel's death or to free Celylith and Laenro's sister was a big one. Much could go wrong (and, if he had learned anything at all, much _would _go wrong, too), and he was afraid for every single one of them, from Laenro and his men to his brothers who would die as well if they failed. Most of all, however, he was afraid for Legolas, and that was one of the reasons why he was currently sneaking through the house at dead of night. He knew that there was no real chance that he would be able to convince his elven friend to change his mind, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.   
  
Aragorn reached the door leading to the twins' room and soundlessly opened it, gliding over the wooden threshold in a stealthy manner that would have made his elven instructors proud. It quickly became apparent that Legolas was not in the room, but the man stopped for a second to check up on his brothers. He stepped closer until he was standing in front of the beds and smiled slightly, his heart feeling instantly more at ease now that he saw with his own eyes that they were alive and – relatively speaking – well.   
  
He cocked his head slightly to the side, studying Elladan's pale face and the thin sheen of sweat that still beaded his brow, even despite all their efforts. While Elrohir had surfaced a few more times this past day and had displayed varying states of alertness, Elladan had done no such thing. He had remained unresponsive and unconscious, and no matter what herbs they tried or what potions they came up with, he stayed that way. From what he and Thesieni had been able to ascertain Elladan had not slipped into an unnatural sleep, something that happened very rarely to the Firstborn anyway; he would simply not wake up.   
  
Aragorn smiled slightly, the worry in his heart not abating in the slightest though. This was just like Elladan, to stubbornly keep sleeping while everyone was waiting for him to wake up. The man hoped with all his heart that this was indeed just a deeper-than-normal sleep and that Elladan would be alright – while it appeared that his condition hadn't worsened, it had certainly not improved much.   
  
The dark haired ranger stepped closer, his eyes boring into his brother's still figure. There were few herbs that affected elves worse than men, but they did exist, and it was possible that Glamir had included one or two of them in his little potion, no matter how rare they were. Right now he couldn't think of any that might serve any purpose for the master torturer, but that didn't mean anything.   
  
He just hoped that Elladan's body would be able to fight off the fever and that he would finally wake up – there was no way to tell how Elrohir would react if he saw his brother in such a state. Aragorn shuddered inwardly. One of the twins worrying about anyone was bad enough, but one of the twins worrying about the other was almost unbearable.   
  
The man moved over to the younger twin's side and made sure that he was resting as comfortably as possible before moving back to the door, pausing there for a moment to give the two sleeping elves a last long look. With a small, barely audible sigh he turned around to the still open door and nearly collided with Thesieni who had soundlessly appeared behind him. For a moment Aragorn merely looked at the elderly woman with wide eyes, desperately trying to come up with something that would stop her from ripping off his head as she had threatened to do on more than one occasion.   
  
Thesieni arched a grey eyebrow and looked darkly at the stunned ranger.   
"Unless I am very much mistaken, your room is down the corridor, is it not, boy?"   
  
Aragorn swallowed quickly, wondering whereto his ability to form coherent sentences had disappeared.   
"Uhm … well … yes, but…"   
  
"The two of them are fine," the healer continued, shifting her grip on the jug of water she had apparently brought up from downstairs, "Or as fine as they are going to be today. It won't help you or them if you fret over them."   
  
"I don't _fret _over them!" Aragorn protested flatly.   
  
"Yes, you do," Thesieni smiled softly. "You don't have to justify yourself, ranger. I have seen it many times, you are merely more persistent than most."   
  
Aragorn returned the smile somewhat tentatively, and decided to exploit the healer's apparently rather good mood.   
"My lady, you do not happen to have seen…"   
  
"The elf?" the woman retorted wryly. "No, but I'd follow that corridor to the end and try the roof if I were you. He's not downstairs."   
  
The young man blinked perplexedly.   
"How did you know who I was looking for?"   
  
"I am a healer," Thesieni retorted. "I know all that goes on in this house, especially if it concerns my patients."   
  
There was really nothing Aragorn could say, and so he merely nodded at the woman.   
"I see. Thank you, I will do that."   
  
He gave the healer a small bow and turned to the right, fully prepared to follow her instructions, when Thesieni's voice stopped him in his tracks.   
"Oh, and Master Ranger," she began, giving her patient a sweet smile when he turned to look at her, "If you're not back in your room in twenty minutes – both of you – I will find a thoroughly unpleasant and painful procedure I will have to perform on the two of you. That's a promise. You need all the rest you can get."   
  
"Of course," Aragorn nodded smoothly. "Far be it from my mind to disobey you."   
  
All the healer said was something sounding remotely like "Hmph!" before she turned around and shut the door in his face. Aragorn looked at the wooden door for a few moments, a half-puzzled and half-amused look on his face, but then he turned as well and walked down the corridor. He was really slipping, he thought to himself as he located the wooden stairs leading up to the attic and the roof. He should have known Legolas was on the roof or somewhere where he could be close to the stars; it was what he – just like every elf he knew – would do under these circumstances.   
  
In a matter of moments he had reached the dusty attic that was packed tightly with crates, barrels and pieces of broken furniture. A multitude of footprints were visible in the dust that covered the floor, a legacy of Cendan's men who had searched the small space only a few days ago. Fortunately for all of them, Aragorn thought with enormous relief, they hadn't realised that a small part of the attic had been separated by a cleverly inserted wooden wall to his left.   
  
If they had discovered it, he mused darkly, Legolas would be captured now, the twins would still be in the dungeons and he would most likely be dead or having a little "conversation" with Teonvan. The young man had to suppress the sudden wave of hatred and fear and the urge to kill that welled up inside of him. His desire to kill Teonvan had grown even stronger, and right now he would have given his right arm for the chance to wrap his hands around the dark haired captain's skinny neck. Well, he amended, maybe not really, but almost.   
  
Abandoning this train of thought, Aragorn located the stairs that led up to the roof and began to climb them, mumbling under his breath. Legolas should better have a good reason for this, he thought darkly. Making him climb all these stairs was … evil, yes, that was it…   
  
After a short pause to regain his breath he continued, and another few seconds later he reached the roof, unconsciously sucking in a deep breath when he opened the small hatch and the cold air assaulted his senses. For a moment he contemplated obeying Thesieni's orders and to return to their room, but quickly decided against it. There was no way he would let Legolas get away with this. The elf needed sleep and to recover his strength, and that was exactly what he was going to tell him.   
  
He reached for a handhold on the snow-covered roof and carefully climbed onto it, inwardly deciding that he far higher up than he had thought. This roof was about as high as the second set of the beech tree's branches outside his window back at Rivendell. Aragorn gulped silently. He could still remember what it had felt like when he had fallen out of it, and the memory didn't help to calm him in the slightest.   
  
He shook his head again and narrowed his eyes, straining to see through the thick, pitch-black darkness. Finally, when he was just about to climb back down, he caught sight of a thin, in the night almost invisible figure to his right that was almost hidden by the roof's snow-covered ridging. With a small stab of indignation he noticed that the elf wasn't even wearing an over shirt as he was, and with a dark scowl on his face he carefully moved into the fair haired figure's direction, hoping against hope that he would be able to surprise him. A part of him would have loved to see him jump into the air in shock – a rather large part.   
  
Just as he had thought, the elf sitting a few feet in front of him cocked his head slightly to the side, even though he did not turn around.   
"I have a perfectly good explanation for this."   
  
Aragorn glowered at elven prince as he stepped closer and eyed the tiny, platform-like spot that was Legolas' current perch.   
"If I were a vengeful person, I would wish for a strong gust of wind that would blow you right off this accursed roof, elf."   
  
"Then I thank Elbereth that you the epitome of kindness and forgiveness, _ mellon nín_," Legolas replied without turning around. "You can stop scowling at me, by the way. It doesn't really work when it's dark and your victim can't see you."   
  
"This 'epitome of kindness and forgiveness' would like to know what in the name of the One you were thinking!" the man told Legolas as he stepped beside him. "It is the middle of the night, it's freezing, you are wearing only a single shirt and are not well to begin with! You need your sleep! Do you know what you put me through?"   
  
"Oh yes," Legolas nodded wickedly. "The same thing _you _put _me _ through yesterday. It served you right, reckless human."   
  
"Not in the slightest," Aragorn shook his head fiercely. "I ran into Thesieni." He watched with some satisfaction how the elf's body tensed slightly at his words. "Exactly. She threatened both of us with something very unpleasant and painful if we weren't back downstairs in twenty minutes."   
  
"She would," the elf muttered softly. "I've tried to tell her that the Firstborn need little sleep, but I have the feeling that she didn't believe a single word I said."   
  
"I wonder why," Aragorn retorted darkly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, beginning to shiver with cold. He looked at the motionless elf next to him, frowning darkly. "What are you doing here, Legolas? You need to rest. You won't be able to help anyone tomorrow if you are too tired to concentrate."   
  
"I wanted to see the stars," the elf answered. "I couldn't know that there would be none to see tonight, could I?"   
  
"You could have opened a window," the young ranger pointed out tersely. "What are you _really _doing here?" Legolas didn't answer, and Aragorn stepped a little closer, his eyes never leaving the elf's face. He remained silent for a few moments, and finally added softly, "You fear for Celylith. It is only natural."   
  
Legolas looked up sharply, apparently about to deny the ranger's words, but then he lowered his head, either to block the man's look or the cold wind that whipped his hair around his face.   
  
"Aye, I do fear for him," he admitted softly. "You and I know what Glamir is capable of, besides, Celylith doesn't like to be underground, even less than others of our kind. It's not so much being inside an enclosed space for him, it's more being below ground level." Noticing Aragorn's questioning look, he added, "I told you about that time we got captured by orcs?"   
  
"Which one?" Aragorn asked wryly, trying to ease the tension of the moment.   
  
Legolas smiled thinly.   
  
"You do have a point, my friend. However, I meant the one time about five and a half _yéni _ago, when we literally stumbled over a horde's lair." He sensed more than saw the man's quick nod next to him and took a deep breath before he continued. "Things went ill very quickly. He tried to protect me and to draw the orcs' attention to himself, stubborn fool that he is, and I was in no real condition to stop him. The beasts' lair was deep below a steep hill, as was the room they kept us in. He remembers more of that time than I do, and, believe me, they are no good memories. It took Glónduil and the others nearly two days to find us, but in the end they did, killed the orcs and freed us. Celylith never talks about it, but I got him drunk once and he told me a few things." He looked up, his eyes dark and serious. "I just hope he's not alone in a cell. I don't think he would take it very well."   
  
For a few moments, Aragorn didn't really know what to say, but then he reached out and placed a hand on the elven prince's shoulder.   
"He will hold on until we can free him, Legolas. You know he will. It's only a few more hours."   
  
"Yes," the elf agreed solemnly. "A few more hours." He turned to his human friend, a quick hint of uncertainty flickering over his face. "What if I fail, Estel? What if it doesn't work? What if I can't do it? One mistake on my part and Glorfindel will die – and Celylith, your brothers and you most likely shortly after him."   
  
"You will not fail," Aragorn shook his head with finality. "You were right from the beginning, _mellon nín_: Your plan is the only chance we have. If we don't take it, we will all die and Girion will have won."   
  
Aragorn quickly closed his mouth again, inwardly calling himself an idiot and a multitude of other uncomplimentary things. He had come here to get Legolas to change his mind, not to encourage him, in Elbereth's name! Still, he thought to himself, he stood by what he'd said. If there was one person who could pull this off, it was Legolas.   
  
"I know that it is the only way," the blond elf retorted a little testily. "But what if I can't do it? My arm…"   
  
"Is healed," Aragorn interrupted Legolas' sentence.   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes at the man.   
"I haven't really used it for more than two weeks, Strider. A fortnight ago, it was far from healed. I don't know if I can do this, but there is no other and…"   
  
Aragorn shook his head and tightened his hold on the elf's shoulder, pulling him around until they looked at each other.   
"Stop this, Legolas," he told the other firmly and insistently. "You _can _ do this, I know you can. I do not say this to put your mind at ease, my friend. I _know _you can do what we agreed on, I know it with such certainty that I would bet my family's lives on it."   
  
"You _are _betting your family's lives on it," Legolas pointed out sourly. "Your brothers will die if I don't succeed."   
  
"It is a bet I would take any day," the man retorted seriously. "I trust you with my own life and that of my father and brothers, and I always will. I know you will succeed. This time tomorrow, we'll have freed Celylith, Glorfindel and Ethoani. Trust me."   
  
"Or we'll all be dead," the elf muttered not very optimistically.   
  
"Or that, yes," Aragorn agreed sarcastically. "I would prefer the first possibility though. From what I've heard from Glorfindel, the Halls of Waiting aren't exactly an exciting place."   
  
"Unless you're stuck there with him," Legolas retorted wryly, obviously trying to shake off the dark, solemn mood that had surrounded him for the past few hours.   
  
"One more reason not to die," Aragorn grinned. "You would have to put up with him for a much longer period of time than I would, my friend, don't forget that." His grin widened a little and he offered the elf a hand down. "And now do me a favour and come back inside. I really do not want to provoke Thesieni's wrath."   
  
"No, we certainly wouldn't want that," the elf agreed as he grabbed the offered hand. A second later he stood next to the man and gave him a long, serious look. "I do, by the way."   
  
"Do what, my friend?"   
  
"Trust you," the elven prince said slowly. "Nothing could ever change that."   
  
"Then trust me now," Aragorn insisted gently. "We will free our friends and return home. I know we will."   
  
"Then that is enough for me," Legolas said softly and turned into the direction of the hatch, motioning the man to precede him.   
  
A few seconds later they had reached the stairs leading down to the attic, Legolas watching the obviously cold and tired man closely in order not to let him slip and fall off the roof. The elf gave the overcast night sky a last look before he turned to the man, ready to follow him down the stairs.   
  
"It will be a dark morning, Estel."   
  
The man's grey eyes fixed on the equally grey clouds covering the heavens and he nodded slowly.   
"Aye, my friend, it will be. But who can know what the evening will bring?"   
  
"No one," Legolas agreed with a small smile. "We'll have to wait and see."   
  
Aragorn did not answer and merely returned the smile, and both of them turned around and climbed down the stairs. In a matter of seconds their heads had disappeared, and a moment later a slender elven hand reached up and closed the hatch behind them, shutting out the wind and the darkness of the night.

* * *

**TBC... **

* * *

_ dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger  
ada - father (daddy)  
mellon nín - my friend  
muindor nín - my brother (as opposed to 'gwador' or 'gwanur'; I don't think the twins would call Aragorn 'sworn brother' since they so often insist that he is their 'real' brother, human or not)  
pen-neth - young one  
Námo - the real name of the Vala Mandos, whose more commonly known name was taken from the name of his Halls  
yéni (pl. of yén) - elvish units of time, each equivalent to 144_

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**morosely I want my stars back. I miss my stars. blinks quickly Oh, sorry. So, as I said, things will begin to heat up next chapter, because they ... insert ominous music here ... will be setting Legolas' plan in motion! g Yes, they really should know better by now, shouldn't they? They don't learn, that's their problem... falls back into dark mood I want my stars. If you want to cheer me up, you can send me a review. I would be very happy about it, really! Thanks!**

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** Additional A/N:**  
  
**Deana** - g Yes indeed, everyone's exhausted and in pain. I think that about sums it up. In fact, I think that's more or less what happens in all my stories... evil grin Weird, isn't it? Great you still like it, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Sirithiliel **- I'll take the "LOL" as a compliment. I'll just assume you liked it then. g Thanks for all your reviews!  
** Sadie Elfgirl **- nods I know. That's the general problem. Last time I had more than enough (besides, there were only Legolas and Aragorn to consider last time), but in this story... trails off Horrible. LOL, well, sorry if the Glorfindel torture was "horrible". gets a dark glare of her own You're right of course, it was simply horrible. Really bad. Just why do you say that Legolas' plan is stupid? Really, whatever gave you that idea... I really don't know. You missed Celylith? Oh, I'm sure he'd be very flattered to hear that. Don't worry though, he's fine - relatively speaking, of course. evil grin**  
LOTRFaith **- blink You know, I never really pictured Cendan's face as "cute". He's not really the cute type, is he? Well, be that as it may, I'm glad to hear that you like him so much. You can't have him though, I'll need him for a little while longer. And who knows, maybe he'll appear in another story in the future, so I'm afraid I can't give him to you. Sorry. g You have a lot of questions, yes, and I really can't answer any of them. Oh, except for the one concerning Thranduil. He didn't come to the city because he has no idea where the lot of them is at the moment. He doesn't even know it exists, remember that Legolas said that his people thought that no one is living in this part of Rhûn? When the twins, Celylith and Glorfindel mentioned him, they were merely bluffing. And don't worry. I am indeed planning to kill Glamir. As I said, I have so few villains that I really can't let him live. g  
**Red Tigress **- Well, the plan ... It's always a little tricky, isn't it? Their plans never really work, and I don't think this time will be an exception. Surprise, surprise. g Great to hear that you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!  
**Someone Reading **- LOL, someone the whole ice-water-thing made me laugh really hard. I don't know why, I just imagined Cendan with little icicles all over his body... g So you're worried about the plan? Well, you should be! Their plans never work, after all... frowns I like the fire, I wish I'd thought of it sooner. I don't have time to use it in this story, but I'll think about using it in another one. Thanks for yet another plot bunny! g **  
SeventhSpanishAngel12 **- blushes Thank you! It's always nice to hear that someone likes my humour - it IS kind of weird, after all... g So you lose fics too? That's nice to hear! It happens quite often to me too... I'm getting old, I think. I DO enjoy writing these stories, don't worry, and I think I will write a sequel. Somehow these characters refuse to shut up. g Well, it's nice to hear that you like my story, thanks a lot for the very nice review!  
**AngelMouse5 **- Well, it's not a very nice thing to call Legolas' plan "insane". It's accurate, minf you, but still not a very nice thing to say. Don't let him hear that, I don't think he'd agree. He's weird, somehow, isn't he? g  
**Celebdil-galad Tinlaure **- Yes. Of course Glorfindel's going to die. I hate him. I want him to die so Arwen can take his place. g And no, you don't need to ask whether or not Celylith is "in for it", you know me after all - I can't resist. It's not the angst I have problems with, I love writing angst, it's just the torture. Sometimes it can get really hard to write that, especially when I'm not really in the mood. Ohio, hm? Well, I guess you're right. It's highly unlikely that I'll be in Ohio in the next few years. If I should be, however, I'll let you know. g   
**Bailey **- wide-eyed There are things like Bible finals? Wow, that's something I would fail in a second... Then again, I DID chose Philosophy in ninth grade... g Hmm, let me see, Legolas' plan is stupid, and Aragorn is unhappy because it's stupid. Another person who missed Celylith! Yay! Great to hear, I'm sure he'll be very flattered. He will be in this chapter, don't worry. Zam would kill me if I didn't let him appear once in a while, after all. g  
**Crippled Raven **- g Yes indeed. Before you're beginning to pack your things to come and live with me: We were the last year who was allowed to drop it. And it was only in our state, so in Bavaria for example you were never allowed to, I think. They are strange, after all. g But believe me, it saved my life - and my grades. You have to hand in handwritten essays? Well, I tried to hand in handwritten coursework (only two pages, thank God) yesterday because I'd run out of ink, and they refused to accept it. I knew that, of course, but I thought they'd make an exception. Well, it wasn't so bad since I could simply send it via email, but I was still rather ... unhappy about it. I hate to write anything by hand, so I did it all for nothing. grimaces LOL, I see that you like Cendan. It's very nice to hear, I think he'll be very flattered when he hears that. Great that the chapter managed to cheer you up a little, it's very nice to hear!  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel **- Nope, the Glorfindel torture wasn't too graphic, was it? I really thought it would be better this way. And of course you can borrow Rashwe if you want to - a lot of people want him, I really don't get it. shrugs Well, whatever. So, you are very welcome to use it, just put it in the disclaimer.   
**Falling Star **- I would go and check if you really DO start every review with "Wow", but right now FF.net is 'experiencing heavy traffic' and so I can't. Sorry. g Try to stay on the couch! It's not very nice to fall off, besides, it can be very dangerous. g Well, the next three chapters have quite a bit of angst and action, even though there's not much of action in this one. I hope you don't mind. g  
**Strider's Girl **- Wow, the "brilliant and brainy Nili"? Thank you! You'll give me delusions of grandeur, but it's nice to hear nonetheless! huggles I knew that you would like the fact that Aragorn was awake for most of the chapter. He has missed quite a lot, after all. And the plot just ... comes to me. It develops and begs to be written. I know that it sounds like a really bad cliché, but it's true. shrugs  
**Karone Evertree **- LOL, yes, Aragorn is most definitely ill if he's fantasising about Elrond's potions. Poor ranger. evil grin About the updating: This time I was late, I'll admit that. But the every-five-days thing was a long time ago really. It's been more than two months now that I changed it to once a week. Sorry about that, but there really is no way to make it any faster. g  
**Elvendancer **- Yeah, I guess that an Annoyed List would be quite a hit. g You're right though, it would get a little bit confusing with all those lists around... And you're right of course, it's Glamir whose a few sandwiches short of a picnic, not Glorfindel. But you try telling him that!  
**Tychen **- You are far too trusting, really. I used to tell my mother I had important work to do all the time, and then I played games or things like that... g I think all children do that. LOL, yes, Glorfindel ticks people off - but he does it with STYLE! And you're right, Glamir would have got Celylith if he'd been smart, but I guess that wouldn't have been quite as satisfactory. And you're right again, Legolas and Aragorn are most definitely not well or recovered - they're merely stubborn. g  
**Emiri-chan **- shakes head You're the second person telling me that. I really wish I'd thought of using fire earlier - perhaps I'll still use it in another story. Unfortunately I don't have the time to put it into this one which is too long as it is. So you're attached to Celylith, huh? I'd be careful if I were you, Zam can be quite protective. Well, she's grabbed him since the last chapters of AEFAE, so I guess she does have a point somehow... g It's very nice to hear that you like my weird little stories. They are weird, after all... Well, about the reviewing-thing: I promise I'll try to read the first chapter soon. I really can't promise you more than one chapter or so, because I really don't have the time. For example: I haven't even been able to read Cassia's new story. I managed five chapters or so, but for all I know Legolas is still dead. It's sad, really. Just one thing: Don't write what people want you to write. If I'd write what people wanted, this story would have no cliffies and would be one long torture scene. g So, just write what you want to write. I know that sounds stupid, but I'm really not a good person to ask for advice.  
**Alassa Tiwele **- I know, I know. Thank you for pointing it out, I noticed it one or two days after I had posted the chapter, but by then FF.net had installed their new little torture device that STEALS MY STARS!! calms down again So I couldn't change it without having to redo the whole chapter, and I really was too lazy for that. Anyway, thanks a lot for telling me. I really appreciate it. I have a few problems, one of them is "this/that" and another is "other than/ except for/unlike". Don't ask me why, there are some things I'll never learn I fear. grimaces And about the word: To be perfectly honest, I never thought about _the word_. I really didn't. It's something evil, but that's all I can tell you. I've made the experience that it's more fun to not actually say such things... evil grin Oh! Cookie! grabs it Thanks!  
**Snow-Glory **- Well, I think "terrifying" is not really the correct term, but I think I know what you mean. The plan is a little ... stupid, I'll admit that. I don't know yet if Celylith will see the ox again, and I don't know whether or not he'll have the time to name it. But if he has, I'll think of something equally stupid as Wilwarin, something like "Snowflake" or something. g   
**Galadhriel Vornionien **- I'm sorry. I never meant to imply anything like that. It's just something I've always wondered. I know that the Vanyar never left Valinor, which is of course the reason why they never appear in LOTR. So I'd always assumed that Glorfindel was half-Vanya, but somehow I'd always thought he'd be half-Vanya and half something else. I know that stupid, now that I think about it, especially considering that Gondolin was Noldorin and Galadriel's own rather golden hair colour. Was Finarfin blond as well? I never found it or the thing with Glorfindel in any of the books. Is it in the Silmarillion?  
**Cosmic Castaway **- Well, I love to hug online, I don't really like to hug in Real Life. I don't know why. shrugs Well, I hope it wasn't too bad that this chapter was a bit late. I'm very sorry about that, but I reall couldn't make it any sooner. smiles sheepishly ducks the grenade Well - thank you. I guess. g  
**Kathleen LaCorneille **- g I'd be very greateful if you'd refrain from killing him. I think Legolas and his father might get a little upset. And don't kill too many of Wilwarin's family. They might be of different colonies, but they're still her kin - kind of. g I guess you're right though, Legolas and Aragorn will need the help of all the Valar there are to get out of this mess. And Eru himself would be nice, too. g Thanks for the review, and once again, you're very welcome!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing **- I am not a dog. I want to make that clear. I am not a dog. I don't even want to be a dog. If I want to be anything, I want to be a cat. Cat's are ... wonderful. I like cats. But that was absolutely beside the point. grins sheepishly Great you liked it though, thanks for reviewing!  
**Firnsarnien **- I thought about having Aragorn react like that. But then I came to the decision that Aragorn isn't stupid. I think he's able to see when something's the only way out. Well, "my" Aragorn is anyway. He's not a stupid 21st century teenager, after all. g I'm glad you think that about Cendan though, becase I really didn't want him to turn out any other way. It would have been so clichéd if he'd just decided to change sides, wouldn't it? Well, if you define cliffy like that, then every story is a cliffy. That's not a very good definition. shakes head   
**Joshua Nenya **- Natuerlich wollte ich dir eine Dankesmail schreiben! Es ist doch nun mal so, dass Reviews einen jeden Autor extrem gluecklich machen. Das ist wahrscheinlich sogar die Untertreibung des Jahrhunderts. g Wenn ich ganz ehrlich sein soll: Ich habe geheult wie ein Schlosshund, als ich die Galalith-Todesszene geschrieben habe. Es war ganz furchtbar, meine Mutter dachte, jemand waere gestorben. g Und jetzt hat dein Abi ja angefangen. Ist doch gar nicht so schlimm, oder? duckt harte Objekte Oder?  
**Shauna **- Yeah, as I said, this is "The Calm Before the Storm II". Don't worry, the "Everything Goes Straight to Hell" chapter will be here soon as well. g Hmm, I wouldn't call Legolas' plan daring and adventurous. I think the terms "stupid and reckless" are more appropriate. g I hope you'll be able to read the next chapter as well. It's horrible not being able to read something you want. g  
**Iccle Fairy **- Well, this chapter is another of these "talk about what will happen next"-chapters. I don't think that your idea of the plan is stupid. Legolas' plan is rather stupid too, so there is really no need to worry. g Laenro won't find out about Aragorn's identity though, but I have the feeling that he wouldn't be overly impressed either. It's not like him. shrugs  
**CSI3 **- Well, 'soon' is well - a question of definition? This was rather soon ... at least I think so. g I'm glad to hear that you like the story so far, thanks for taking the time to review!  
**Marbienl **- Well, I don't really close my eyes, I just scroll up so I can't see what I've just written. Talk about hypocrisy. g But you're right, I like the comfort part much better. And no, Girion couldn't have tortured the councilman. He's not the type to do that. He'd have killed him or would have handed him over to Glamir, but he wouldn't have done it himself. And the councilman's family would have to be really stupid to fall for that. Besides, I don't think it would have been worth the whole trouble. g They won't find out that Aragorn is Isildur's heir, but I have the feeling that he wouldn't be very impressed if did find out. And yes, Laenro is kind of mean. He's rather focused on keeping his people safe which is rather understandable, I think. g LOL, the things with the screams would have been funny, you're right. Yup, you have a thing for nightmares. And NO, I won't put it in. Sorry. I don't have time. And I don't really want to. g Maybe I'll write a small Elrond-Glorfindel story though. winces Oh no, I got a plot bunny gnawing at my leg. Damn you! shakes fist at Marbienl Oh, and that story you're talking about: We had one like that here a few months ago. It was quite gross, too. About Glorfindel: No one really knows what he is, but judging by his hair colour he has to be at least half-Vanya. Gondolin was a Noldorin city, so he is probably half-Noldo and half-Vanya or something similar. Presumably. g  
**CrazyLOTRfan **- LOL, Cendan the Emotionless - it fits. It really does. And we like him for it. huggles Cendan Don't worry, we'll see a bit of Thesieni's reaction, who is indeed not overly pleased. I know what you mean. My mother's just the same. I swear she likes her car more than me, which is really rather insulting. I wanted to become a pilot for a while as well. I don't have the money to actually do it though, and I wouldn't be able to join the police or military. All that yelling and getting yelled at and obeying people with no intellect and the average IQ of 50 - no, I couldn't do that. I would be a horrible soldier, and I thank God for it every day. g  
**TrustingFriendship** - I have no idea why you'd think that the plan won't work smoothly. I really can't imagine why you'd think something like that. g Yeah, the twins, Aragorn and Legolas are indeed alright - relatively speaking, that is of course. g   
**Bookworm, .303 **- Yeah, that was the general idea. It's always nice to not actually write something but to let people imagine it instead. Don't tell me, I'm evil. g Great you still like it, thanks a lot for all the reviews!  
**Jera **- Yay! Another huge review! Thanks! huggles I'm glad you agree with me on the Cendan thing. I would have thought it rather unlikely that he would simply have decided to switch sides. It isn't something he would do. I think Laenro isn't exactly interested in forging alliances. He doesn't really trust Legolas or Aragorn, and he most certainly doesn't trust Cendan, which is understandable, of course. LOL, no, Aragorn's look doesn't work very well at the moment. Poor ranger. And of course you're right, you have most of my plot figured out after all. I don't think I'll be able to surprise you anymore. g For example the Kevin Costner bit, which will of course NOT happen like that. shakes head No, not at all. I'm glad you liked the scene with Glorfindel. It's a lot easier just to leave it to you people to imagine what exactly is going on. evil grin And just how did you manage to guess just which scenes would be in the next chapter? It's not normal... grrrr Don't worry, the quotes are visible now. Must be one of FF.net's little games. I hate it, did I mention that? g Once again, thanks for the great review!   
**Aratfeniel **- Yes, you got me. I'm planning to kill Glorfindel so Arwen can take his place in the movies. Guilty as charged. g You're right of course, sometimes it's quite nice to be the author. So, sometimes, I can make them do what I want them to. It works not very often, but sometimes it does. g Sorry about not posting on time. I hope this is still 'soon'? innocent smile  
**Crystal-Rose15 **- Oh, is it? Sorry, I didn't know. I ... well, 'got' the movie a long time ago. But I'll still buy it, eventually. I'm weird, I know. g I'm afraid your LOTR knowlege has completely failed you. It's not Sauron. Come on, it can't be Sauron! Read the A/N from last chapter again. No Sauron. shakes head So, no Celylith clone to you, at least not yet. Sorry. g  
**Jess **- Thank you! It's very nice to hear that you like my insane little stories. But no, there won't be any more Aragorn torture in this story, and no Legolas torture either. As I said, battle wounds and so on don't count, but no more torture per se. I don't like to put to much into a story, it tends to make the whole things very ... unbelievable. shrugs Well, that's my opinion at least. So, no broken ranger or elf in this story, sorry. There wouldn't be enough time anyway, but I might put it into another story. Be that as it may, thanks a lot fot the review! I really appreciate it!  
**Salara** - knuddel Na, das ist doch schon mal was! Und wenn man bedenkt, dass ich immer noch euer Kapitel reviewen muss, werde ich mich ganz sicher nicht beschweren... g Die Sache mit der Nachricht: Ich gebe zu, dass ich auf die Idee nie gekommen bin. Ich nehme an, dass jetzt, wo div. Elben und andere Gefangene entkommen sind, du nicht mal 'ne Maus aus Baredlen 'rausschmuggeln koenntest. V.a. muessten Laenro und Co. einen Mann senden, da ich zu bezweifeln wage, dass die Brieftauben haben, und ich glaube nicht, dass Laenro jetzt auf jemanden verzichten koennte. Keine Sorge allerdings, sie schicken Thranduil eine Nachricht, sobald sie alle Fieslinge erledigt haben. g Apropos Maus: Wir wohnen im 4. Stock Altbau, und haben in der Kueche eine Tuer, die per Wendeltreppe in den Keller fuehrt, ich nehme an, so 'ne Dienstbotengeschichte. Gestern sassen alle fuenf Katzen davor, und dreimal darfst du raten, wer reinwollte: Eine dicke fette Maus! Wir haben sie natuerlich nicht reingelassen; die muss echt selbstmordgefaehrdet gewesen sein... g Aber du hast natuerlich Recht, ich plane schon die ganze Zeit, Glorfindel umzubringen, damit Arwen seinen Platz einnehmen kann. PJ hat mir ein Angebot gemacht, das ich nicht ablehnen konnte... g Elladan wird allerdings nicht gleich aufwachen; typischer Peredhil, der einfach dickkoepfig tut, was er will. Wie der Vater, so der Sohn. g Vielen Dank fuer die riesenlange Review!

**I want my stars back. I'm fully aware that I sound like a sullen child, but I don't care. I want my stars. The /-thingies are really hard to reach on my keyboard, at least if you want to use them frequently. I hate them. grrr**


	30. Fortune Favours the Bold

**Disclaimer: **For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**

**sniffles Thanks for all the stars. I still can't upload any, but I aprreciate it nonetheless. I really miss my stars, and I am beginning to suspect that this is just another one of FF.net's attempts to make me lose my mind. The most frightening thing is that they're succeeding, of course - then again, I wasn't exactly what one would call "sane" before all this either... trails off Whatever. I am sure that this bloody website hates me though. It's rather disconcerting now that I think about it. g**

**Glad you liked Celylith's bet, btw. The poor, stupid, reckless wood-elf needs something to take his mind off what's happening around him, and what could be better than a small bet? But you are also right, he might need professional help. About 80 % of Mirkwood's warriors are in the process of developing a serious gambling problem, I think... Poor Thranduil, really. Then again, he has other problems at the moment, hasn't he? evil grin**

**Oh, and about the date (you'll see what I mean): It was a coincidence, really. I hadn't thought that the whole story would take so long, but it surprised me, once again. You can check it though: This whole story started on the 6th of February, you can get that from counting backwards to the end of THOM, which ended on the 31st of December. And, using a set of probably highly irrevelant calculations, I came to the conclusion that the year 2954 of the Third Age was no leap year and February had therefore 28 days as usual. I'm insane, I know.  
  
  
Okay, enough of that. Here is the next chapter, and, as the title already suggests, things are starting to get interesting! Yay! grins evilly So, what do we have ... a little conversation between rather agitated siblings, another conversation between the reckless ranger and the stubborn elf, we see Girion again who isn't exactly happy at the moment, find out what Legolas' idea of a joke is and Glorfindel and Cendan make a brief appearance. Oh yes, and there's a little cliffy, of course. Come on, I hadn't had one for AGES, my alter ego was beginning to get antsy. It's not my fault, really. g**

**Have fun and review, please!**

* * *

  
  
  
Chapter 30   
  
  
"Absolutely not."   
  
"Elrohir, be reasonable."   
  
"Coming from you, this is one of the most ironic things I have ever heard, Legolas."   
  
"There is no reason to become sarcastic, brother."   
  
"'No reason to become sarcastic', Estel? I have ample reason to become sarcastic!"   
  
"Brother…"   
  
"Don't 'brother' me, Estel! What do you expect from me, that I sit back and smile while you allow yourselves to be killed by that maniac and his guards?"   
  
Aragorn raised his eyes to the wooden beams that formed the room's ceiling and suppressed a tired sigh. How Elrohir could be so stubborn and headstrong so shortly after having woken up was beyond him. It must have to do something with him being their father's son.   
  
"Listen to me for a second, Elrohir," he began as calmly as he could. "I know how you feel, but there is truly no other way. I have thought long and hard about it, and have tried to find another solution. There is none, brother. None at all. This is the only chance we'll get to free Celylith and Glorfindel. If we don't take it, they will die, and Girion will march out to conquer the North. If he succeeds or not is of no importance. Thousands of people will die, no matter if he wins or not."   
  
"So you thought you would volunteer to be the first two victims?" Elrohir seethed; Aragorn's attempts to calm him down didn't appear to to be working very well. "Whose idea was this? Please, tell me! Long have I longed to know which of you it is that drags the other down into certain doom with him!"   
  
Aragorn and Legolas traded a quick look, a hint of amusement in their eyes. They had both known that the twin would react rather … indignantly, but neither had thought that Elrohir was well enough to make quite such a fuss.   
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Aragorn finally said. "It is the only way."   
  
"Absolutely not," Elrohir repeated, grey eyes flashing dangerously under the white bandage that wound around his head. "I refuse to agree to this."   
  
"Elrohir…" Legolas began, his eyes frightixed on something to the younger twin's right.   
  
"No, Legolas. This is foolishness! Am I the only person capable of seeing this?"   
  
"Brother…" Aragorn said as well, a strange undertone in his voice.   
  
"Estel, do you really expect me to let you go on this suicidal mission? There has to be another way, and the mere idea that I stay here and let you go alone is…"   
  
"Elrohir!!" both the man and the elf exclaimed together. "Would you please let me finish?" Aragorn added. "Stop ranting, do me a favour and turn your head."   
  
The younger twin grumbled under his breath and slowly turned his head to the right, wincing when the small movement aggravated his already splitting headache. A moment later his eyes grew wide, and not even the smug grins on his human brother's and Legolas' face could dim the joy that welled up inside of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but absolutely nothing came to his mind as he looked into the tired, pain-filled but undoubtedly awake and aware eyes of his twin.   
  
A small smile spread over Elladan's face and his eyes twinkled faintly, a mere echo of his usual mischievousness.   
"I … leave you alone for … five seconds and the … two of you promptly start arguing."   
  
With an effort, Elrohir pushed back the enormous relief that filled every single part of his body and raised an eyebrow in a rather good imitation of their father.   
"Decided to join us, did you?"   
  
"You know me," Elladan smiled softly, knowing perfectly well how Elrohir felt. "I like it to make a grand entrance."   
  
A brilliant smile spread over the younger twin's face and he looked rather inclined to try and get out of his bed in order to get over to his brother's side, something that was only prevented by Aragorn's hand on his arm and his accompanying glare.   
"Typical," Elrohir told his twin in a disapproving tone of voice. "You leave us to worry about everything and sleep for one and a half days. You're like a sloth, did you know that?"   
  
Elladan opened his mouth to say something, but before he had even said a word, he was interrupted by two things: Aragorn got up and walked around his bed, offering him a glass of water that seemed to hold much more appeal than talking, and Legolas started snickering loudly, something that threatened to develop into a full-blown hysterical fit in a matter of moments.   
  
"What?" Elrohir asked in confusion. "What did I say?"   
  
"Nothing," Aragorn glared at the laughing wood-elf. "Nothing at all. Legolas' sense of humour is in dire need of improvement, that's all."   
  
Legolas ignored the man's words completely and did his best to regain his composure, still fighting off waves of mad giggling. He took a deep breath and looked at the confused twin, his eyes wide and almost desperate as he sought to control himself.   
"Did you … did you call him a sloth?"   
  
"Yes – so?"   
  
"Oh, nothing," Legolas grinned so broadly that Aragorn was beginning to suspect that there had been a frog among his ancestors. The man was just imagining what King Thranduil would do to him if he ever found out that he suspected him of amphibian heritage when his attention was redirected to his elven friend, who was leaning forward in his armchair and looking at the bemused Elrohir with an evil twinkle in his eyes. "It is just that the word reminded me of something that happened close to Dale a few months ago, and…"   
  
"And we really don't have time to discuss this subject now," Aragorn interrupted him, reaching out with his free hand and closing it around the elf's arm. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen if Legolas told his brothers about the whole sloth-or-bear-business. He shuddered inwardly. He would never hear the end of it, he was sure about it. The three of them would drive him insane with that accursed song – if he was lucky, that was.   
  
Legolas raised an amused, mischievous eyebrow, but Aragorn didn't give him the opportunity to speak. He wasn't totally stupid after all.   
  
"How do you feel, brother?" he asked Elladan, turning back to the older twin who had been listening to the exchange with a smile on his lips. "Do you need something against the pain? Do you want some more water? Do you…"   
  
"Well, no and no, Estel," Elladan said wryly and exchanged a look with his brother. He turned serious almost instantly and reached out for his human brother's hand with one of his own, looking at the white bandage that was wrapped around his wrist in puzzlement. "Don't you ever do this again, Estel. If you ever scare us like this again, I will personally hand you over to that insane healer of Legolas'."   
  
Legolas was about to point out that Hithrawyn wasn't _his _healer – strictly speaking, he was his father's – but quickly thought better of it. He really didn't want to interrupt the small family reunion with pointless remarks. Aragorn, however, even might have appreciated his interference, since he didn't look happy at all and did his utmost best to avoid the dark haired elf's eyes.   
  
"I am sorry for causing you grief, Elladan."   
  
"Grief?" Elrohir echoed unbelievingly for his twin. "We are long past grief, little brother! You scared us half to death and back!"   
  
"I am sorry about that," the man inclined his head and looked at his elven brothers apologetically, but with a steely sparkle in his eyes. "I really am, you know that. But I would do it again."   
  
"Of course you would," Elladan muttered tiredly and gave the hand he held a small squeeze. "That's one reason why we love you, little brother – your reckless, foolish idiocy."   
  
"Thank you very much," Aragorn said wryly and squeezed back carefully. "And I thought it was my charming personality."   
  
"Hardly," Elladan smiled. He tried to sit up and to roll over onto his back, only to freeze abruptly as pain flared to life in his up until now rather comfortably numb back. He couldn't hold back the small moan of pain that escaped his lips, and after a very brief moment in which he looked as if he wanted to shake off the young ranger's hands he allowed himself to be pressed back down onto the mattress.   
  
"Take it slow," Aragorn told him softly. "Your back doesn't look good at all. It will need quite a lot of time to heal, so try not to move too much. Or," he added dryly, "let's make that try not to move at all."   
  
"With which we are back at the beginning," Elrohir interjected sourly, wrenching his eyes away from his older brother's ashen face. "I won't let you do it, Estel. Neither of you."   
  
"Do … what?" Elladan inquired between gritted teeth.   
  
Elrohir ignored Legolas' and Aragorn's pleading looks and returned his gaze to his twin, indignation and fear on his face.   
"They want us to stay here while they go off on an insane mission to free Celylith and Glorfindel and to kill Girion."   
  
"Absolutely not," Elladan unknowingly echoed Elrohir's earlier words and raised his head from the mattress, looking slightly over his shoulder to fix steely grey eyes on his human brother and fair haired friend.   
  
"Elladan, you are in no condition to go anywhere," Legolas reminded the slightly older elf gently. "Your back is covered with welts, and you will need at least two days to recover your strength that has been depleted by the fever. And you," he nodded into Elrohir's direction, "couldn't walk more than ten paces on that leg of yours, and your head would probably explode after two."   
  
"Leg?" Elladan repeated suspiciously. "What about your leg? Did Glamir continue with you? Did he hurt you? Did he…"   
  
"No," Elrohir quickly tried to calm his brother. "He didn't. I had a little … accident during our escape."   
  
To his left, the elven prince grinned and lowered his head, muttering something that sounded quite a lot like "ox", and Elrohir shot him a dark look that promised horrible consequences should he dare tell Elladan about his little encounter with the less-than-friendly bovine.   
  
"What about the Easterlings?" Elladan asked, apparently having missed the silent exchange between his brother and friend. "There had to be thousands in that camp outside the city, and…"   
  
"Yes," Aragorn nodded and carefully pressed the elf back down, "We know. We saw them when we arrived here. It will be alright, brother, trust me."   
  
Even despite the pain and weakness in his body, Elladan smiled slightly.   
"Your interpretation of the term 'alright' leaves a lot to be desired, Estel. As does yours by the way, Legolas."   
  
"I hear that a lot lately," the man shrugged indifferently. Noticing the twins' dark looks, he sighed deeply and lowered his head a little. "Please, there really is no other way. I do not like this any more than you do, believe me, but there is nothing else we can do. We either do this our way, or we will all die."   
  
"Your way," Elrohir muttered softly. "Oh joy."   
  
"I agree," Elladan nodded curtly, once again trying to sit up to look at Aragorn and Legolas who apparently couldn't make up his mind about whether he should be amused or annoyed. "I have not even the slightest idea what is going on here, but to let the two of you do anything 'your way' is a guarantee for disaster, that is something I've learned a long time ago."   
  
"You wound me," Legolas retorted, having obviously decided that it was a lot more productive to take this entire exchange humorously. "My plans always work. Maybe not exactly the way I had in mind, but in the end I achieve my objectives. Usually."   
  
"'Usually', that's exactly the word that worries me," Elrohir told him darkly, garnering a hearty nod of support from his elven brother who was just being pressed back down by the ranger.   
  
Aragorn shook his head in exasperation, his hands beginning to twitch slightly with impatience. Why oh why couldn't the two of them be reasonable, at least for once? If they went on like this, he would drug both of them. Oh yes, that was exactly what he would do.   
  
"You know that we speak the truth," he began as calmly as he could. "You can protest all you want, but you know that we cannot just stay here and allow these people to do with our friends as they please. Please," he said earnestly, looking at his brothers with huge, pleading silver eyes that had yet to fail to sway the twins, "please stay here where you are safe. I cannot go out there, knowing that your lives are in danger as well. We will be back with Glorfindel and Celylith before the sun has set, I promise."   
  
"For once, I agree with your brother," Legolas nodded next to him, his eyes fixed on his friends. "You cannot help us, no matter how much you wish to. Stay here and regain your strength, that is all you can do at the moment."   
  
The twins exchanged a dark look, and Elrohir lifted his chin, apparently prepared to make a last attempt to change the two friends' minds.   
"You are not well either; neither of you is. What can you two do in your condition?"   
  
Aragorn fixed his eyes on his elven brother, his gaze quickly darting to Elladan and back to Elrohir again, a look on his face that very clearly said "Not now". He didn't want to agitate his oldest brother even more, who would undoubtedly start fretting over Legolas and him the second he heard that they had other injuries than the rather obvious bruises and cuts on their faces. Elladan needed to rest, and if he worried about them more than he already did, he wouldn't go to sleep for hours.   
  
Elrohir seemed to understand what Aragorn wished to tell him, and gave the human an almost imperceptible nod that Elladan missed completely. The older twin was very busy fighting both the pain in his body and the urge to return to sleep, and had neither the time nor the strength to give his surroundings more attention than absolutely necessary.   
  
"Alright," Elrohir finally conceded with a small, dejected sigh that somehow managed to increase his pounding headache. "Alright. Go and get yourselves killed if you wish, but don't expect us to give _ada _or King Thranduil the bad news."   
  
Elladan's eyes that had closed almost on their own account were opened in a flash, and incredulous and angry grey eyes fixed on the younger twin's pale, bruised face.   
"Elrohir?"   
  
"They are right, brother," Elrohir sighed and carefully turned his head to look at his indignant brother. "You will go nowhere in the next few days and, no matter how loath I am to admit it, neither will I. We would be more of a burden than an asset."   
  
"You are not a burden," Aragorn shook his head firmly. "You came to our rescue, no matter what. What else could we want?"   
  
"That we had succeeded and not walked right into the trap that insane man had laid?" Elladan asked tiredly. "That we hadn't allowed ourselves to be captured? That we had been of any real help at all?"   
"There was no way you could have known," Legolas said reasonably. "Girion may be as mad as Eöl on a bad day, but he isn't stupid. None of you could have known he was behind this."   
  
"You are right," Elrohir nodded ironically, a dark, guilty sparkle in his eyes. "We would have needed to really take a look at our surroundings and actually _think_ to find that one out."   
  
Aragorn shook his head, inwardly deciding that, no matter what Legolas said, he just couldn't be as bad as the twins in this regard. He never blamed himself like this – did he?   
"Elrohir," he began gently. "You know Legolas is right. There…"   
  
He was interrupted in mid-sentence by a hasty knock on the door, and both he and Legolas turned around just in time to see Laenro poke his head through the door he had opened without waiting to be invited. Aragorn blinked quickly, trying to hide the mild shock that stabbed through him. The brown haired man looked about ten years older than he had two days ago, his face covered with stubble and with dark rings under his red-rimmed eyes. It was clear that he had worked a lot and slept little, and the panicked sparkle that spoke of his fear for his sister's life had grown even brighter.   
  
Laenro was either unaware of the way he was being scrutinised or he simply did not care, and he gave the two elven twins only the briefest of looks before he redirected his attention to Legolas and Aragorn.   
"It is time," he said gruffly. "Cendan's second-in-command will be here in a few minutes. If we want to get in position without attracting any attention, we have to leave now."   
  
Legolas gave the man a small nod and something that was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.   
"We'll be there in a moment."  
  
Laenro gave the ranger and the two dark haired elves that surveyed him with quiet intensity a last look and produced a low sound in the back of his throat that could have meant anything from annoyance to agreement to disgust, and a moment later his head disappeared and he walked back into the direction of the staircase.   
  
Elrohir looked from his tired, slightly wide-eyed twin to Aragorn and Legolas who were in the process of getting up and collecting their neutral, dark coats Laenro had given them last evening. The dark haired elf ignored the pain that movement brought and arched an eyebrow.   
  
"Please tell me he isn't the one you told me about, the leader of the men who will help you free them?"   
  
Legolas smiled slightly as he fastened the cloak at his neck and ignored the way his side protested once again against quick movements.   
"He is a … complicated man, I agree, but he's kept his word until now. He will do what he can to help us."   
  
"Complicated?" Elladan echoed faintly. "Legolas, I have seen more sociable orcs with better manners! And trolls, too!"   
  
"Now that you mention it, I would take an orc horde, too," Aragorn said, an expression of mock longing on his face. "They just might serve to distract the guards."   
  
"And kill all of us in the process," Legolas interjected wryly. "No thank you, I think I will take my chances with Laenro and Cendan."   
  
"I hope that is not a mistake," Elrohir said solemnly.   
  
"So do I, my brother, so do I," Aragorn said in an equally serious tone of voice. He walked over to the door, pulled it open and motioned to Legolas to precede him. The fair haired elf disappeared out of the room with a last smile and a few reassuring words, and the man was about to follow him, only to stop on the threshold and turn back to his elven brothers.   
  
"If we are not back this evening, try to get out of the city," he said insistently. "There are three horses in a stable five houses to the left of this one, and the owner will not ask any questions, or so Laenro has assured me. If we fail to return, take Thesieni, the healer, and leave. Please," he added, seeing the stubborn expressions on the two elves' faces, "Please, if we are not back at sunset, we won't be back at all. Don't allow them to kill all of us; father wouldn't be able to bear it."   
  
Elrohir exchanged a quick look with his brother and finally nodded at the young ranger, a sad smile on his face.   
"Go with the blessings of the Valar, Estel," he said softly. "Don't make us return to father with such news, I beg you."   
  
"I will do my best," Aragorn nodded solemnly. "I promise."   
  
With a last nod he was gone, and soon the sound of his footsteps faded in the distance, leaving the twins behind in dark, uncomfortable silence. A few moments later Elladan raised his head, his tired eyes fixed accusingly on Elrohir's face.   
"This is all your fault."  
  
"My fault?" the younger twin asked incredulously. "_My _ fault?"   
  
"Yes," Elladan nodded curtly. "You always read the Lay of Leithian to him when he was younger. I know I shouldn't say this about our own ancestors, but all this talk of sacrifice and noble deaths must have given him the wrong ideas."  
  
"He _asked _me to read it, it wasn't as if I'd had any choice!" Elrohir protested, readily seizing this chance to take his mind off the current situation. "Don't even pretend that you could resist him when he looked at you with his lost-puppy-dog-eyes!"   
  
"Coming from the person who agreed to pretend to be Wolf-Sauron for Estel's entire sixth birthday this is a rather feeble accusation, brother."   
  
"Hmph," Elrohir simply made, sounding remarkably like Laenro for a moment. "I really think you are mixing up something, because…" He trailed of and sharply turned his head to look at his brother, pain flashing over his face at the quick movement. "His birthday!"   
  
Elladan stared at his brother, wondering if the worry and stress were getting to his brother. Elrohir merely continued staring at him with a slightly appalled look on his face, and Elladan forced his tired and hurting brain to start working. What was Elrohir talking about, Estel's begetting day – or his birthday in human terms?   
  
"His birthday what?" he finally asked tiredly.   
  
"His birthday!" Elrohir repeated, and looked as if he would have liked to throw up his hands in exasperation. "The first of March is in two days!"   
  
"Impossible," the older twin shook his head flatly. "We left Rivendell almost a month before his birthday, and…" He trailed off, a horrified expression on his face as he began to realise how long their journey had taken them. "By Elbereth, you are right!"   
  
"Of course I am," Elrohir retorted smugly. "So what do we do? We don't have any presents, we have no honey-cakes, we have nothing! What do we do? We can't just ignore his twenty-third birthday! He would never forgive us!"   
  
"You really want to think about what to give Estel for his birthday now?" Elladan asked incredulously.   
  
"Do you have any other ideas?" Elrohir asked back. "You mustn't go back to sleep just now, not that you could sleep in the first place of course – and neither could I. We can either worry, or we can try to come up with a present."   
  
Elladan quickly thought about it, and decided a second later that his brother was right, of course. They couldn't do anything than try to distract themselves, and this topic was just as welcome as any other. Besides, Aragorn would most likely really be aggrieved if they missed his birthday – young humans seemed to place a great deal of importance on such events.   
  
"Alright," he said, trying not to go to sleep as his body so urgently wanted him to. "We could give him … your bow."   
  
"My bow?" Elrohir asked flabbergasted. "Why _my _bow? Besides, I guess Girion has burnt it by now, curse him."  
  
"Oh yes," Elladan agreed darkly, thinking of his own beloved weapons. "So, what about…"   
  
They went on like this for quite some time, and finally Elladan decided that, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, it never worked. Both Elrohir and he did their best to take their minds off their worry and fear, but in the end no light conversation could combat the dark, choking emotions that threatened to overwhelm them and to tear their hearts asunder, and their thoughts inevitably returned to their brother and friend and to the fact that there was nothing they could do to help them, nothing at all.   
  
  
  
Legolas was beginning to accept one simple, rather obvious truth: He was insane.   
  
If he wasn't insane, he was mad, and if he wasn't mad, he was at least suffering from delusions of grandeur. What in the name of Eru and all the Valar had he been thinking? He should have known that this wouldn't work, he should have known that he would get all of them killed. He should have stopped a moment to bring it to his attention that he wasn't one of the heroes of old; he wasn't like his grandfather or the High King Gil-galad, or even his father, Lord Elrond or Glorfindel. He was just a rather stupid elven prince, who had apparently thought that this could work somehow. Which it wouldn't.   
  
Next of him, Aragorn seemed to think much the same, even though he was apparently too polite and well-mannered to tell him what he was thinking. Then again, Legolas reasoned, perhaps the man was suffering from delusions of grandeur, too. Maybe it was contagious, one could never be sure about such things.   
  
The fair haired elf returned his attention to the large field in front of him, deciding in a split second that he had rarely seen so many humans at once, if not on the battlefield. To him the open area appeared huge, and right now every single square inch appeared to be covered with people. The two platforms Cendan had been talking about were still some hundred yards away from them to their right. It were two large wooden constructions that looked anything but inviting; the smaller one, where the execution was meant to take place, was still empty except for the gallows and a few guards, while the large one was already populated by quite a few soldiers, councillors and advisors. Whether or not Girion and Teonvan were among them, Legolas couldn't say with certainty from his viewpoint, even though he thought he had seen the brown haired captain's yellowish face, at least for a moment.   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes at the people filling the field as he followed Cendan's unnoticeable second-in-command who was being flanked left and right by Sero and Laenro. Yes, there were a lot of people here, but he would have been willing to bet that few were here voluntarily. There had been placards all over the city, announcing the upcoming execution and stating rather unambiguously that the city's just and beloved lord expected the people of his realm to attend.   
  
There were remarkably few women and children present, something that surprised Legolas since he knew that most humans viewed things such as public executions as a sort of entertainment, something he had never been able to understands. Yet it appeared that the people of this town expected trouble, and that the women had stayed at home with their children. Even better, he thought to himself. This way there was both the hope that there would be fewer innocents that got hurt (something that, as he was well aware, was almost unavoidable) and that the men of this town would be more willing to take up whatever arms they could find and would help them get rid of Girion and his men. They needed all the help they could get, after all.   
  
And there he was back at the beginning of his musings, he thought darkly. He hadn't thought that Girion had so many soldiers and guards under his command. There were hundreds lining the field and the two galleries, and even more poured out of the castle to their left. Legolas gave the dark grey, imposing fortress a quick look and shuddered almost imperceptibly. It was … evil, that was the only word for it, and the mere thought that Celylith was in a cell deep under that rock-like monstrosity was enough to make his blood run cold.   
  
A hand closed around his arm and he looked up a little bit startled, right into Aragorn's sympathetic eyes. The man smiled at him and pulled him forward a little, moving a lot stiffer and less controlled than he usually did, and only then did Legolas notice that he had slowed his walk so far that he had almost stopped and was beginning to draw quite a bit attention.   
  
With a quick move of his hand Legolas reached for the hood of his cloak and pulled it even further down, trying to conceal as much of his face as possible. There were quite a few guards among the people and scanning the crowd, no doubt searching for them, and the last thing Legolas wanted was to be recognised now. The only thing in their favour was the fact that it was such a dreary, cold day, as ironic as that might have been. The sky was as overcast as yesterday night and of a dark, steely-grey colour, and almost all men around them had pulled their hoods over their heads in an attempt to protect themselves from the cold wind and the sleet that had begun to fall.   
  
The elf purposefully picked up his pace to catch up with Laenro and the others. The brown haired man's people were all around them, and Legolas knew that Laenro and Sero had stationed the rest of them in strategic spots all over the field in groups of five and more. Once they got the signal, they would attack whichever guard or soldier was closest to them, and considering the fact that there were more than two hundred of them, it would be only a matter of seconds before this whole field would be plunged into absolute chaos. The more reckless part of him grinned inwardly. It would be quite an interesting sight, that much was sure.   
  
Next to him, Aragorn moved through the mass of people with only a fraction of his usual grace, inwardly wishing Teonvan into whatever dark pits there were in the afterlife. If that … man hadn't seen it fit to turn him into something closely resembling a pincushion, he would be able to walk properly now. The man shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the elf whose arm he had still grabbed, resolutely refusing to look into the direction of the castle. He could fully understand why Legolas had almost frozen when he had seen it again; he too had underestimated the effect the dark building would have on him.   
  
"He's alright," he said so softly that only Legolas would be able to hear him. "I'm sure most of the guards will be here in order not to miss the spectacle. They will be much too busy to do anything now."   
  
"Maybe," Legolas answered out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his voice low. "And maybe not. I don't see Glamir here; do you? I don't think he's here. He wouldn't want to watch something as … 'artless' as an execution."   
  
Aragorn strained his eyes to survey the platform, cursing inwardly when he saw that his friend was right. Glamir wasn't here as far as he could see, and, as Legolas had said, it was unlikely that he would come at all. His attempt to put the elf's mind at ease had failed spectacularly.   
  
Before he could say anything, Legolas gave him a small smile and inclined his head.   
"But thank you for saying it. We'll find him."   
  
"Of course we will," Aragorn nodded. "And if we have to turn the castle upside-down."   
  
Legolas' smile widened a little and he was about to say something when the three men in front of them stopped and turned around, smiling broadly. Laenro took a step forward and slung an arm around Aragorn's shoulder in a comradely gesture, looking to any casual observer like someone who was having a small talk with a friend and an acquaintance.   
  
"This is it," he said in a low voice, still smiling so brightly that he was beginning to look slightly demented in Aragorn's eyes. "We can accompany you no further, elf."   
  
Legolas nodded curtly, but Aragorn turned around slightly to look at the other man, a smile on his face that was belied by the dark expression in his determined grey eyes. He nodded into the direction of Girion's podium that was still at least three hundred feet away.   
"That is not what we had agreed on. The plan is to stay as close to him as possible."   
  
"This _is _as close as possible," Menvan answered with a faint smile that was just as unremarkable as the rest of him. "There are more guards here than we originally thought, and if try to get closer to Girion's gallery, we will be caught for sure."   
  
Aragorn's eyes narrowed and the false smile seemed to freeze on his features, but Legolas interrupted his friend before the man could say a single word.   
"You are right," he nodded at Laenro. "This will have to do." He turned slightly and gave Menvan a smile, as if catching sight of him for the first time. "Cendan and the rest of your men are ready?"   
  
"Yes," Menvan answered softly. "We tried to get as many of our people on today's duty roster as possible, so there are quite a lot of us here at the moment. The rest is either hidden among the crowd, positioned in the city and on the way to the castle, or waiting in the main courtyard. We need to eliminate as many officers as we can who are not on our side."   
  
The fair haired elf nodded again.   
"Did Cendan do what I bid him?"   
  
For a moment, Menvan looked decidedly uncomfortable.   
"I think so," he finally answered evasively. "He didn't have the chance to do it yesterday, since it would have been surely discovered. He told me he'd do it now, just before Girion got here. If he's here, he'll have succeeded. Look to the left of Girion's seat; it should be there."   
  
"Well, if Cendan's not here, we'll all be in serious trouble," Aragorn said darkly.   
  
"That, ranger," Menvan said softly, with a truly amused smile on his usually so guarded face, "just might be the understatement of the century."   
  
"You inspire me with confidence, Menvan," the young ranger retorted sarcastically. "Now I feel a whole lot better. Thank you."   
  
The other man gave him a bow that was apparently meant to imply that Aragorn was most welcome and, with a last nod at Legolas, he turned around and walked a few paces to the right before he stopped next to a group of very unhappy-looking farmers. Sero and Laenro gave the two friends a quick look and followed the soldier, either unwilling to let him out of their sight or in order to give the elf and the ranger the chance to have a few words in private. Considering how bad Laenro's mood was at the moment, Aragorn guessed the latter was the case.   
  
He took his eyes off Laenro's retreating back and looked at the fair haired elf in front of him. Legolas' face was hidden by his hood, but Aragorn didn't need any light at all to see the small smile on the elf's lips.   
  
"So," he finally said, looking straight at the blond prince with an unreadable expression on his face.   
  
"So," Legolas repeated with a quite a bit of humour in his voice.   
  
"Before you go," Aragorn went on, casting a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that the other three men hadn't moved too far away, "I really think I should stress that, no matter how much I may think it necessary, I think that all this is a very, very bad idea."   
  
"You know, I am beginning to think that you might be right," Legolas retorted seriously. "But it is too late to change anything now. All we can do is hope that Cendan and his men are ready and that he has really managed to convince his uncle."   
  
"In his message to Laenro he said he had."   
  
"I don't trust the Easterlings," Legolas said curtly. "I don't trust them at all. And I don't trust Cendan. I will believe that they leave the moment I see it, not a second earlier."   
  
"Well, we'll be the first to know if they don't," Aragorn shrugged, only half-joking.   
  
"Indeed," Legolas smiled thinly. He reached out with a hand and carefully placed it on the man's shoulder, his eyes under his hood burning into Aragorn's. "Don't you dare get yourself killed, reckless human. I'll never forgive you if you do."   
  
"I wanted to say the exact same thing," Aragorn said seriously. "Take care of yourself, my friend. And whatever you do, no matter how much you wish to distract Girion: Don't make him angry. I have the feeling that he won't be in the mood to put up with one of your I-am-an-elf-and-therefore-far-superior-to-you-speeches. The same will apply to Teonvan, I think."   
  
"I do not give such speeches."   
  
"Yes, you do," Aragorn smiled slightly and gave the increasingly impatient-looking Laenro a quick look. "May Elbereth watch over you, Legolas. You will need it."   
  
"As will you, _mellon nín_," the elf said quietly and squeezed the ranger's shoulder as softly as he could. "Even though I fear that you will need all the Valar to watch over you."   
  
"I wouldn't mind in the slightest," Aragorn nodded wryly. "I will see you at Girion's podium then, as soon as things start to … get interesting."   
  
"I'll be there," Legolas nodded as well. "Don't keep me waiting, human."   
  
"Funny," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "I wanted to say just the same."   
  
The two of them shared a brief smile that faltered very quickly, and a serious, dark look began to spread over their faces. Without even thinking Aragorn grasped the elf's hand that was still lying on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, his silver eyes fixed on Legolas' blue ones. The two of them managed to convey many things without even saying a single word, and a moment later the man let go of the elf's hand and took a step back, pulling his hood deeper over his head.   
  
"Go then," was all the ranger said, and with a last, slow nod at the elf he turned around and left, his cloaked figure quickly disappearing in the crowd.   
  
Legolas watched his friend's back disappear between two burly men and finally turned around, feeling suddenly amazingly calm. He knew perfectly well that the chance that Aragorn and he would die (just like their friends, Cendan, Laenro and their men now that he thought about it) was quite a substantial one, but right now that didn't really seem to matter. They had done what they could and had taken every precaution they had been able to think of – which, admittedly, hadn't been too many – so there was really nothing he could change now. Apart from running away and hiding of course, which, attractive as it may be, was _ not _an option.   
  
With a small inward sigh Legolas began to make his way over to Girion's gallery, doing his best not to run into any people in the process, which was none too easy. When Cendan had said that there would be two-thirds of the town's population attending this particularly amusing event, he had thought the dark haired man was exaggerating. He should have known better, of course. Cendan wasn't the type to exaggerate, and right now he would have been ready and willing to swear that there were far more than two-thirds of the male population filling the field. He hadn't thought Baredlen had so many inhabitants in the first place.   
  
The elf narrowly avoided a collision with one of the few women that were present, a large, stout woman who looked as if she wasn't afraid of anything and as if she was more than capable of defending herself against almost any man here. Legolas moved to the right in the last possible moment, nearly bumping into two sullen men in the process, and as he slowly continued to more or less push his way over to his goal, he decided that he loathed crowds he wasn't allowed to kill. He had nothing against crowds of orcs or things like these in general (unless they outnumbered him to four-to-one or more, of course), but to be part of a crowd of people whose only aim seemed to be to squash him to jelly was not a particularly amusing experience.   
  
He moved to the side to walk around a large group of what looked like ill-tempered butchers (not necessarily a professional guild he had ever wanted to see in a bad mood), and felt like the anxiety in his heart increased. This was something they hadn't really taken into account, and if he didn't manage to get over to the gallery soon their entire oh-so-well-laid plan just might fail from the very beginning. If he didn't get there in the next few seconds, they might start with the execution before he had even got close to Girion. He couldn't see Glorfindel yet, but it wouldn't take them long now to bring him out.   
  
Legolas shook his head once more, wincing inwardly as someone's elbow was thrust into his still healing ribs. Plan or no plan, if he didn't get out of this crowd soon, he would kill someone. He wasn't in a good mood to begin with, and if these humans here didn't stop trying to introduce him to various parts of their arms and shoulders, he would lose his temper and kill some of them, no matter what how much they needed their help.   
  
Before it could come to that, the elf reached the gallery that rose in front of him like a large, wooden wall. He looked up at it, surveying the ascending ranks of benches and seats above the room-like space in the middle where Girion would be. There was room enough for at least two hundred people, and right now about half of it was filled with councilmen and high-ranking officers. There were guards everywhere, and Legolas found himself praying to the Valar that Cendan had spoken the truth and he had really as much support among the soldiers as he had claimed. If not, he wouldn't get out of this alive.   
  
The men around him fell strangely silent, and Legolas redirected his gaze from the lines of the guards that surrounded the wooden construction to the dais that overlooked the field and the scaffold. He knew what he would see even before he had fully raised his head, and still resentment and hatred welled up inside of him when his eyes came to rest on Girion who stepped forward, clad in dark, sparsely embroidered robes.   
  
The dark haired man placed his hands on the carved railing that surrounded his seat and studied the crowd, his face as emotionless and forbidding as ever. The people around Legolas had lowered their heads in an obvious attempt not to meet their lord's eyes, something which the elf could readily sympathise with. Girion looked more than ready to see some blood spilt today, an impression that was somehow only emphasised by the dark red colour of the heavy velvet that swayed softly in the light breeze.   
  
While Legolas was still staring at the dark haired man, once again wondering just how it was possible that the descendant of a reasonably intelligent and sensible man didn't display any of his ancestor's characteristics, an excited murmur ran through the people on the field, and without looking up the elf knew what was happening behind him. He turned with the rest of the crowd, and when he saw what had caused such a stir he unconsciously clenched his jaw and hoped that Aragorn had learnt some measure of self-restraint in these past few years. And if that hadn't happened, he hoped that Laenro, Menvan and the others would manage to restrain the young ranger before he could do something stupid and rash.   
  
Under usual circumstances he would have relished the chance of being able to admonish Aragorn for his recklessness and thoughtlessness (a somewhat hypocritical pastime, or so he'd been told), but right now he would have liked nothing better than to be allowed to kill Girion and his guards. And Glamir, he added as an afterthought. Yes, most definitely Glamir, too.   
  
The elven prince's eyes remained fixed on the small group that was pushing its way through the crowds that parted willingly to let the men pass. He noted that they were walking and not using a cart, something that was just as common if not more so from what he'd heard. A small, wry voice inside his head noted that it was probably a good thing too, because he really didn't want to know what Glorfindel would have said if they had used an ox cart to bring him out of the castle. If he knew the elf lord at all, Glorfindel would be furious that some humans wanted to execute him like a common criminal when it had taken a balrog to kill him the first time, and he was sure it would be the last straw for him if the men added to that dishonour by using a cart.   
  
Legolas avoided looking at the other elf's face as long as possible, but he just as well might have tried to contain water in a sieve. It was as if a cold hand had reached inside his chest and had begun to wrap itself around heart, and in a guilty moment he hoped fervently that Celylith was in a better shape than the golden haired elf the men were dragging into the direction of the wooden platform.   
  
Glorfindel's shirt was gone and his torso was covered with welts, cuts, bruises and other injuries. The expression on his equally bruised face was one of scornful contempt, and he looked strangely disinterested, as if what was happening around him was of only the remotest interest to him. If there was something else in his eyes except overwhelming annoyance, it was hidden both by the blood that clung even to his face and the fact that one of his eyes had turned a remarkable shade of blue-black and had nearly swollen shut.   
  
Legolas hadn't even realised that he had been standing as if frozen to the spot, staring at the blond elf like all the humans around him, but when the soldiers surrounding the other elf reached the platform with the gallows and began to pull him up the stairs, he returned to the present with a start. He was out of time, and if he waited much longer, it would be too late.   
  
New determination pulsing through his heart, Legolas began to push his way through the crowd that was beginning to get agitated as the people tried to get closer to the anticipated spectacle. The mood was … strange, the elf realised as he made his way over to the stairs leading up to Girion's gallery. It was clear that most people didn't care overly much about what happened to the elf and if he was hanged or not, but he could sense nothing of the festive mood one often encountered during public executions. The inhabitants of this town seemed to have watched so many people die that they simply didn't care anymore, and all Legolas could sense from them was a kind of weary sadness.   
  
All these thoughts trailed off abruptly when reached the line of soldiers surrounding Girion's gallery, and with a last, firm shove he pushed two men aside and came to a stop in front of two young, rather startled-looking guards. The fair haired elf stopped abruptly, wondering once again if he was imagining it or if human soldiers got younger by the century, and finally straightened his shoulders with an inward sigh.   
  
Legolas took a deep breath, threw back his hood and gave the increasingly wide-eyed soldiers the brightest smile he could manage right now. In the moment the men's eyes widened even more and they reached for their weapons, the elf decided that, promise to Aragorn or not, he was entitled to a bit of fun as well, even if it was only a little.   
  
"Excuse me," he began friendly, smiling even more brightly at the soldiers, one of whom was calling for reinforcements right now. "You do not happen to know where that mad, deranged warmonger is who insists on being the lord of this place, do you? I seem to have lost sight of him and his inferiority complex in the face of this joyous occasion."   
  
The soldiers did not answer, and neither did their companions that came running up to them, but if the expressions on their faces were any indication at all, his attempt at humour wasn't overly appreciated, something that didn't really surprise Legolas if he was perfectly honest with himself.   
  
The people of this city wouldn't recognise a joke if it came walking up to them and introduced itself by name and with a smile, after all.   
  
  
  
There was something that was making him uneasy, even though he could truly not say what it was.   
  
Girion unclenched his hands with a conscious effort and took a small step backwards, his eyes not leaving the wooden platform in front of him or the elf who was in the process of being dragged over to the gallows. Everything was going according to plan, after all, so there was no reason for him to worry – at least not yet. He had ordered Captain Teonvan to concentrate the main part of the soldiers here and not to send any of the guards on patrol today; they didn't want to scare off the dear prince and his friends, after all.   
  
And no matter what the council thought (not that they had dared oppose him openly, of course), he was sure that the elf would show himself. He had always thought himself to be a fair judge of character, and if the Elvenking's son would allow one of his friends to be killed without trying something to heroically free him, he would personally eat this annoying dais that was fluttering in the breeze behind him.   
  
Suddenly, while he was still thinking about that annoying elvish brat, he realised what was bothering him: Lord Súliat's delegates weren't here. He was rather sure that they had been invited to attend this particular event, and he was equally sure that the two envoys were intelligent enough to realise when an invitation was in reality an order.   
  
Girion narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He didn't like this Sangwar or his younger companion, no, he didn't like them at all, but he also had to admit that they were among the shrewdest and most calculating envoys he had ever seen. Sangwar in particular had been a diplomat for so long that he appeared to sense political developments before they actually happened, and a small part of the dark haired man's mind whispered softly that it couldn't be a good sign that the two delegates weren't here.   
  
They were most likely already packing and preparing to abandon the city as fast as they could, and if Girion hadn't been so sure that everything would go according to plan, he would even have understood it. The relationship with the Easterlings had deteriorated in the past few days with a speed he hadn't thought possible. He didn't know why, but the leader of the tribes living to the North had become highly … irrational, a term he would never have thought to apply to him. The olive-skinned man was probably the most rational of the Easterlings' chieftains, and this behaviour was highly unlike him. All of the sudden he didn't seem to be interested in money anymore, but had almost single-handedly broken the alliance between Girion and the tribes into pieces that may already be too small to be pierced together once more.   
  
Girion growled inwardly, staring unseeingly over the crowd that filled the field. The tribes living to the North and close to the Sea had joined forces and had managed to antagonise the tribes to the East and West, and the smaller tribes had, for the most part, sided with them. It would take a minor miracle now to get them to work together, but it was something Girion was most ready to try to achieve – as soon as he had eliminated that annoying elven prince and his equally annoying companions and had…   
  
"Sir?"   
  
At the sound of the voice of one of his councillors the dark haired lord slowly turned around, a rather unhappy frown on his face. What in the name of the Gods did they want now; he had ordered them not to actually hang the elf for another five minutes, hadn't he?   
  
"What?" he asked curtly. "I thought my orders had been clear."   
  
"Yes, my lord," the man answered smoothly and bowed his head. "But there has been a … development I thought you would want to be informed about."   
  
"Speak plainly, man!" Girion all but hissed, his dark mood only intensifying. "I have neither the time nor the patience for games like these!"   
  
"He is here, my lord," the councilman added hurriedly in the face of his liege's wrath. "The elf prince. They are bringing him up here right now."   
  
For a few moments, the dark-clad lord didn't say anything, a feeling of intense glee and satisfaction spreading inside of him. After a second he looked back at the other man, a satisfied, malicious smile on his face.   
"He was captured?"   
  
"Well," his advisor began carefully, inwardly asking himself just how he should describe the elf's behaviour. "Not exactly. From what I've heard, he simply … surrendered." Seeing the expression on his lord's face, he added quickly, "It appears that he walked up to two of the guards and … well, all but asked to be brought before you."   
  
"Did he now," Girion muttered softly, turning back around to survey the other wooden platform and the people surrounding it. He could see nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but then again it would have been impossible to actually notice if anything had been wrong. There were far too many people here, and he was beginning to think that it just might have been a mistake to allow the general populace to attend the execution.   
  
A moment later he turned back to the councilman, suppressing the feeling that something was seriously wrong here. This was too easy, far too easy, and if he'd learned one thing in the past, it was that everything that was too easy was too good to be true.   
"Have him brought here," he nodded. "Now."   
  
The councillor had just bowed and stepped to the side when footsteps could be heard on the wooden steps leading up to the upper level of the gallery, and a moment later a small troupe of people became visible that wore quite a lot of different expressions. The first two people who became visible were two guards clad in the black and grey livery of Girion's house, and the expressions on their faces could only be called confused to the extreme. More soldiers followed after them, who appeared to be equally surprised, even though some also seemed to be slightly suspicious.   
  
In the centre of the small group were two people, who both appeared anything but surprised. One of them was Captain Teonvan who had grabbed the other by the arm, from the looks of it with rather a lot more force than necessary. The man appeared almost overwhelmed by his good fortune, and a gleeful, almost anticipatory gleam could be seen in his eyes. The only thing that could be seen on the second person's face was loathing, and if it bothered the elf to be in the hands of a man who wanted to kill him slowly and painfully he did most certainly not show it.   
  
Girion leaned back against the railing and waited for the guards and the elf to come closer. The feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger, but it was quickly buried under a powerful wave of satisfaction, glee and hatred. It was hard to believe that this one elf and his companions had managed to give him so much trouble – but he had done just that, the man reminded himself quickly. He wouldn't underestimate him again, and he would make sure the dear prince told him where his friends were before he allowed Teonvan to kill him.   
  
The men had fully ascended the stairs, and Teonvan jerked the bound elf forward, something that the fair haired being only commented with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Girion had no time to get angry about the elf's behaviour for the two of them reached him only a second later. Teonvan bowed his head in respect, something that was of course not mirrored by his elven prisoner.   
"My lord."   
  
"Captain," Girion said evenly, but with a pleased undertone that was plain to hear. "It is good to see that, for once, my orders were followed."   
  
Teonvan raised his head again and said something, but Legolas had lost all interest in the conversation and hardly heard his words. He was very busy scanning his surroundings, and saw to his relief that it was all as he had pictured it. Well, apart from one little thing: Cendan was nowhere to be seen. The elf frowned inwardly. He knew it had been a mistake to trust that man. If he didn't appear here soon, their plan would fail and he and all his friends would surely die…   
  
A blow to his cheek that nearly threw him to the floor ripped him out of his reverie, and Legolas suppressed a half-angry and half-pained hiss and redirected his attention to the men standing in front of him. Teonvan whose hand was still raised from the blow he had just dealt looked about as happy as child who had just found out that its fondest wish had come true, while Girion appeared calm and composed – an impressing that was destroyed by the dark, angry sparkle in his already very dark eyes. Legolas sighed inwardly. That was the second promise to Aragorn he had broken today: It appeared that he had already managed to make Girion angry without even saying a single word.   
  
Teonvan stared at the dispassionate elf, a curious mixture of joy and anger filling him. He still couldn't believe that his lord's plan had actually worked and that the elf had been all but dropped into his lap, but he wasn't about to question a gift from the Gods themselves. He would make this infuriating creature pay for all the insults he had had to endure from him, and as soon as he had told them where his companions were (and tell them he would, he had no doubts whatsoever about it), he would continue with his little ranger friend. Yes, that was something he was very much looking forward to.   
  
"The Lord Girion asked you a question, elf," he hissed at the fair haired being on whose face the red impression of a hand could be seen clearly now. "Answer him!"   
  
"Now, now, Captain, show our guest a little more respect," Girion advised his subordinate sarcastically. "You are addressing the heir to the throne of Mirkwood, after all." He took a step closer to the emotionless elf who was being held firmly by the dark haired captain. "Is this not so – Prince Legolas?"   
  
Legolas returned the man's searching gaze evenly, once again thanking the Valar that the old Lord of Dale was dead and didn't have to witness his descendant's madness. It would have broken King Girion's heart, he was sure about it.   
"And if it were so?"   
  
"Then, _your Highness_," Girion said mockingly, "I would be very displeased that you withheld that little piece of information from me. Not introducing yourself to your hosts is considered extremely rude in these parts." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why did you not tell me who you are? Things would have turned out quite a bit … different."   
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow and would almost have asked the obvious thing, namely how stupid the man thought him to be, but then he remembered Aragorn's words. The ranger was right, it would serve no one's purpose if he got himself killed right here and now. He needed to stall until Cendan got here – maybe he had simply got delayed. He knew from experience how hard it was to get anywhere here with the masses of people crowding the field.   
  
"You did not ask," he finally said curtly as if became clear that Girion was waiting for an answer.   
  
Teonvan's hand around his arm clamped down even harder, so hard in fact that Legolas was rather sure that his upper arm would soon splinter like a twig if he kept up that kind of pressure, and a small growl escaped the man's throat. It was clear that, no matter what he said, Teonvan would see it as an insult, even if the words weren't even directed at him. The elven prince shrugged inwardly. The man was mad after all, one could hardly expect reasonable behaviour from him.   
  
Girion, however, did not seem to be overly displeased, because he only began to grin, even though it was a grin that sent cold shivers down the elf's spine. If Teonvan was mad, then his lord was so far gone that someone had to invent a new word to describe his state of mind.   
  
"How right you are," Girion said friendly and nodded at the elf. "I did indeed not ask. But now I do." His grin widened a little and the dark undertones became even more threatening. "What, _ your Highness_, do you think your royal father would say if I sent him …. let's say … a couple of your fingers with a letter politely asking him to remain in that wood of his? That would still leave us with enough limbs in case he needed to be … persuaded some more, don't you think?" When the elf didn't answer, Girion took another step closer, his eyes boring into Legolas' calm blue ones. "So, prince: What do you think he'd say to that?"   
  
The elven prince raised his chin and stared at the dark haired man, cold, furious contempt beginning to spread over his face. His eyes narrowed so far that it was hard to tell whether they were open or not, and the irises turned a dark, stormy blue colour.   
"My royal father," he began slowly and clearly, "would tell you to take your pathetic threats elsewhere, would muster his army, rally his allies, march here, kill you and your men and raze this city to the ground."   
  
Girion threw back his head and laughed, something that only fortified the belief that had been growing inside of the blond elf, namely that the man was completely and utterly mad. If Girion thought that he was joking, then he was sadly mistaken. His father would do just that, and it would be only a little something to warm up.   
  
Girion needed only a few seconds to calm down and quickly returned his gaze to the stony-faced elf. He abruptly turned around and walked over to the balustrade, motioning Teonvan to bring the elf over next to him which the man did only too willingly. Legolas was jerked to a stop next to the dark-clad lord, the pain that blossomed in his still healing wounds causing him to silently curse Teonvan and all his ancestors and possible descendants.   
  
"You amuse me, elf," Girion said next to him in an indifferent tone of voice. "Not many things amuse me of late. There is one other thing though; do you see this?" he asked confidentially, making a sweeping motion into the direction of the gallows.   
  
Legolas raised a mocking eyebrow, but refrained from saying something very sarcastic just in time. He would have to be blind or stupid or both not to see the other wooden platform – that was why he was here after all, even though that was something he could hardly tell Girion now. He merely stared straight ahead, anger once again boiling hotly in his veins when he saw the golden haired elf standing in the middle of the podium, his hands tied behind his back. A thick, coarse noose of rope lay around his neck, sneaking upward past the heavy knot at the back of the elf's neck to the wooden gallows like a malicious, deadly snake. Legolas stared hard at the other elf, willing him to look at him, but Glorfindel did not.   
  
Girion waited for a few more moments, and a small, angry sparkle flickered to life in his eyes when the elf simply ignored him. He took a deep breath and pushed the fury and hatred he felt for this infuriatingly calm being aside, once again returning his attention to the sight in front of him.   
"Did you really think you could save him?" he asked, truly interested. "That I would let him go once I had you? Or did you simply want to be a hero, elf?"   
  
Legolas did not answer, his eyes still fixed on Glorfindel's bruised, bloodied face, and in the moment Girion took a step forward and grasped him by the throat the golden haired elf lord suddenly looked up, either by chance or because he had sensed the younger elf's insistent stare. In the second before the man's hand closed around Legolas' neck and brutally turned him around, the two elves' eyes met, and Legolas desperately hoped that the older elf could see the promise in his eyes, the promise that he would be rescued and that everything would be alright.   
  
Before he could dwell further on this he was yanked around and forced to look into Girion's face that was now red with fury. Teonvan was standing behind his lord, an expression on his face that was so smug that Legolas voluntarily redirected his attention to the man who was only a step away from strangling him.   
  
"I want an answer, elf, do you understand me? I have enough of your insolence and your damned elven superiority! Why are you here, _your Highness_?" Girion hissed at the fair haired elf, his hand closing a little bit more tightly around his throat. "Why? Why did you come here? You must have known you couldn't win."   
  
He narrowed his eyes at the elf who was struggling to draw some air into his lungs, and cruelly increased the pressure a bit more.   
  
"Is it because of the girl's accomplices? Are you part of a plan to overthrow me? To assassinate me, to stop me from taking back what is mine, what should have been mine and my family's a long time ago? You disappoint me, elf," he shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on his struggling captive. "I had thought you to be cleverer than this. You must have known you couldn't help those 'freedom fighters', you must have known they were far beyond your aid. You must have known it would end like this and that you would be captured, just like your friends will be captured. You must have known that my power is far superior to theirs, or yours, or even your elven friends' and that of your oh-so-powerful father. You must have known that neither you nor they would escape."   
  
He allowed the elf to breathe once more, feeling with substantial satisfaction how the blond being fought to force enough oxygen into his lungs around the fingers that were still wrapped around his throat. The man gave the elf a few seconds to regain his breath before he leaned even closer.   
  
"You must have known all this, _Prince _Legolas. You are not stupid enough not to have known. So why did you do it when you knew you didn't even stand the slightest chance against me?"   
  
Legolas did his best to get his breathing under control, telling himself that he should have remembered Girion penchant for trying to strangle people. It had been only half an hour that he had last seen the bruises Girion's fist had left around Aragorn's throat when they had arrived here. A small part of him grinned inwardly. Now they would have a matching set of bruises, wasn't that great?   
  
Girion's hand was still wrapped around his neck, constricting his breathing, and while Legolas' eyes wandered over the part of the room he could see, something caught his attention, something he would almost have accredited to lack of oxygen. He blinked and tried to get the world into sharper focus, and half a second later he saw that he hadn't been mistaken: Cendan was slowly walking up the stairs at Girion's and Teonvan's back, appearing as emotionless as ever.   
  
If the dark haired lieutenant was surprised to find his lord close to strangling an elven prisoner, he did not show it, and only the most keen-eyed and observant people would have noticed the small, almost undetectable nod he gave the struggling elf. Legolas felt relief pulse through him, and with a small shake of his head he returned his eyes to Girion who was still waiting for his answer, renewed confidence filling him. All the pieces had been positioned and all preparations had been made; it was time to end this.   
  
"You want to know why I did it?" he asked scornfully, very surprised that his voice was understandable at all and did not resemble the squeaking of a mouse. "You would never understand, human, even if I told you. You _could _not understand."   
  
"Humour me," Girion hissed softly, having completely forgotten about everything but the fair haired elf in front of him. That fact was not lost on Legolas, and the elf prayed that the dark-clad man and his personal guards would stay distracted until Cendan could get a bit closer.   
  
Legolas took another laboured breath, his cold, angry eyes seemingly boring into Girion's very soul.   
  
"I did it because what is right cannot be measured in terms such as strong or weak. Possessing the power to do something does not give you the right to do it. Nothing gives you the right to disregard the lives and dignity of these people in the way you do. With your foolish actions you do not only doom yourself and your house, you doom this city and its inhabitants – you even doom your soldiers and your 'allies'. You may have the power to kill me now, yes; you may even have the power to kill my friends and anyone who opposes you in this town, but that power is neither reason nor justification for your actions."   
  
He paused for a moment and studied the face of the man in front of him who appeared well on his way to fury-induced heart failure.   
  
"Yes," he nodded, noting calmly how the red colour on Girion's face reached an interesting, dark, thoroughly unhealthy-looking intensity. "Yes, I knew all these things, but they do not matter. You are right: The girl's friends' fight is not mine. But I also knew that I would be no better than you or your men if I sat back and did nothing. It was the right thing to do, but that is something you and all the people like you will never understand, even if you wanted to."   
  
The elf's words echoed inside Girion's head, and his ire went up another notch, something he had thought absolutely impossible. It was a minor miracle that he was still able to speak despite the fury that threatened to choke him.   
"Be that as it may, _your Highness_, but there is something you have yet to understand: No one speaks to me in such a manner. No one." He nodded at one of the officers standing to the right of them. "Hang the other."   
  
If Girion had expected a shocked plea to stop or something similar, he was sorely disappointed. The elf merely looked emotionlessly from the officer who was hurrying to pass on his lord's order to the dark haired human, contempt and hatred on his face.   
"He has nothing to do with this, and you know it. Why do something that will avail you nothing?"   
  
"Who says it will avail me nothing?" Girion smiled; a dark, sardonic grimace. "It will amuse me to no end that you will have to watch his death without being able to do anything to prevent it. You can't save him, and that is something _you _know, my dear prince. He will die – because of you. How does that feel, elf?"   
  
Legolas returned gave him a smile that was about as warm as the peak of Caradhras in mid-winter.   
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, human."   
  
"Oh?" Girion asked scornfully and gestured at the guards who were climbing the stairs to the gallows, ready to pass on their liege's orders. "And why is that?"   
  
The elven prince merely smiled brightly, nodding at something behind the dark haired man's back, and a calm, emotionless voice interrupted the tense silence that had fallen.   
"That would be because of me, I believe."   
  
Girion let go of the elf's throat and slowly turned around, the slowness of his movements standing in stark contrast to his emotional state. Teonvan turned around as well, fury, surprise and even a bit of quickly hidden fear flittering over his face. Legolas used the brief moment of distracting as everyone's eyes were fixed on Cendan's motionless figure to slowly and carefully edge to the side, doing his best to suppress a cough to clear his abused throat. The last thing he needed now was to draw any unnecessary attention to himself.   
  
He needn't have worried, though, for nothing short of divine interference would have been able to make Teonvan, Girion or any of the other councillors or officers take their eyes off the even-faced lieutenant who appeared not at all bothered by the fact that he had just incurred his lord's wrath and that of his superior officer.   
  
"_What _did you say, Lieutenant?" Girion asked incredulously.   
  
"You heard me," Cendan replied coldly, an answer that caused nearly all those present to freeze in shock and fear.   
  
"Go on, Cendan," Teonvan said, a smile spreading over his face. "You are just talking yourself onto the scaffold."   
  
"We'll see about that," the lieutenant answered evenly. He turned to Girion whose mouth had actually fallen open at the unprecedented insolence; no one had ever dared to talk to him like that and had lived. Cendan ignored the quickly growing outrage on the dark haired lord's face and gave him a quick, curt bow, enjoying all this far more than he actually should have. "I think I should notify you that I regard my oath of allegiance to you as null and void. You are not worthy of the loyalty I and so many others have given you for so long, and you will bring us nothing but certain death."   
  
"How kind of you to inform me," Girion said, inwardly boiling with rage. "And what are you planning to do now, half-breed? You are a dead man."   
  
Cendan remained unimpressed, and the only sign that he had even heard the other man's threatening words was the dark, dangerous smile that spread over his face.   
  
"Now that you ask, my lord," he answered with only a hint of mockery in his voice, "I think I would like to kill you and your little lapdog of a captain." Cendan enjoyed the disbelief and slightly stunned looks on everyone's faces and cast a quick look about him, making sure that his men were in place. "Only if that is not too inconvenient now, of course?"   
  
Teonvan spluttered angrily and was about to say something, but before he could articulate a single word Cendan had started to move and had closed the few steps that had separated him from the elf who had slowly and stealthily been making his way into his direction. With a quick move of his wrist he had grabbed Legolas' arm, had turned him around and cut his bonds, thrusting his knife into the chest of the guard closest to him in the process.   
  
Cendan transferred the knife from the dying man's chest to the elf's outstretched hand in a smooth movement and drew his sword, just in time to watch his men who he had positioned with such great care at strategic spots all over the gallery do the same.   
  
He turned back around and took a quick step into the direction of Girion and Teonvan and raised his blade in a mock salute, an almost predatory smile on his lips, and a second later everyone exploded into action and the entire field was thrown into complete and utter chaos.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**   
  
  
  
  
  
_ada - father (daddy)_   
_mellon nín - my friend_   
  
  
  
  
**grins nervously Well, the cliffy isn't that bad, is it? ducks a hail of arrows and a random sword Jeez, you people take this far too personally... Okay, so the next chapter will be here in a week, at least I hope so. And yes, Teonvan , Girion, Glamir and a lot of random, nameless villains will finally get what they deserve. I know, I know: Took me long enough, too. g Reviews make me happy, as always, and when I'm happy, I tend to write more quickly. I know that this is a rather pathetic attempt to bribe you, but I don't care. g So: Review? Please?**

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**Additional A/N:**   
  
**Deana** - Yeah, I know that () works, but it really looks stupid, (g) or (smiles). No, it's really strange. I hate FF.net, I really do. The worst thing is that it's apparently returning the feeling... g Thanks for all the reviews!   
**CSI3** - Well, the Elvish... There are a few books out there you can use, even though they're quite expensive for the most part, at least here. Learning from this story is a bad idea because a. I'm not THE most wonderful Elvish scholar either and b. because the words do not always in their nominative case endings. Especially Quenya adds different endings for different cases, and Sindarin has this whole system of soft, hard, nasal, liquid and mixed mutation. It makes everything rathe complicated. shrugs You must really be willing to put a lot of time and effort into it, since they're not exactly the easiest languages there are. Whatever you do, don't use the Grey Company Dictionary. It's horrible, and mixes Quenya and Sindarin and God knows what. It's ... shivers Just don't use it.   
**LOTRFaith - **Well, a lot of people seem to have taken a liking to the dear lieutenant. And no, you still may not have him. If he survives, I may give you a clone. So you're claustrophobic, really? That must be horrible... The only phobia I have is arachnophobia, and that's bad enough... I really, really hate those creepy, eight-legged little things... I like the real stars too, but I miss my virtual stars even more. I LOVE my stars, they're my own, my preciousss... g You get the point, I guess. So you're looking forward to Legolas' plan, huh? Well, just read on and you'll see... g   
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - Hey, what a coincidence! I am supposed to work on a history project myself. It has to be finished by next Tuesday, don't remind me... shudders And I totally agree: The Valar help all of them. And us. Even me, because I have put them back together after they got themselves injured... shakes head Reckless children, really. Relatively speaking, of course.**  
Red Tigress** - Well, I could live with upset readers, but dead elves and rangers on my keyboard ... that would be rather inconvenient, I admit that. g So the chapter was cute, huh? re-reads it Uhm, all that gloom-and-doom in the cell was cute? shrugs Whatever you say...   
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - You don't have to apologise, really. I hate it myself when people make mistakes like these, and I thank you for correcting me. Your husband was perfectly right. g So you're about to join the I-want-to-kidnap-Celylith-club? I am sure he would love it in Kemenril - spiders and above ground, huh? He'd definitely love that... g   
**Bailey** - Hmm, I went to a Catholic school myself, and we didn't have things as bibel finals. Then again, I'm Protestant, and we had separate religious education. Hey, I'm not complaining. I would have gotten nothing but bad grades... g And I agree: I wouldn't worry either if my friend were gone when I woke up. I guess Legolas worries because his arm was broken and he's not sure whether or not it's fully healed yet. Silly elf. Glamir IS sadistic, I agree. I guess we all knew that, didn't we? evil grin   
**Someone Reading** - Yeah, I'm sure you'd love to comfort him. g But I agree, Celylith has shown remarkable restraint until now. I would have killed Glorfindel a long time ago... And don't worry about the plot bunny. I have a whole pack of them gnawing on my legs at the moment. They appear out of nowhere all the time... g Great you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!   
**Uineniel** - Hmm, I guess they're so funny because they have a weird sense of humour. Might be the reason. g And the chapter was too short? SHORT? It was nearly 20 pages long! This one is even longer! I would hardly call that 'short'! calms down Sorry, I just hate it that the characters don't shut up and refuse to listen to me. They always do that. And FF.net deleted all my normal characters and turned everything bold. It took me nearly two hours to get this even remotely right. God, sometimes I really hate this website.   
**SeventhSpanishAngel12** - Yes, you WERE quite nice. Thanks, btw. g And last chapter was indeed the Calm Before the Storm. This is more like the Beginning of the Storm, or whatever you want to call it. g And it's really very nice to hear that you don't like 'just' torture fics. There are a lot of stories out there which are simply one long torture scene. You can overdo everything - even something as funny as torture. Great to hear that you liked this chapter, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as well!   
**AngelMouse5** - blinks Noooo... It won't happen like this, not at all... Legolas would never do something like this, and the rebels wouldn't either. shakes head No. Definitely not. g Your guess is rather close. Not quite as I have planned it, but rather close really. Disconcertingly close actually. I guess I'm getting horribly predictable. g   
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - I don't think Rashwe will die in this story, don't worry. I don't know if he'll make a real appearance in the last two chapters, but we'll see. You are right of course, all Mirkwood elves do seem to have a small gambling problem. Hmm, I wonder if that means that the Galadhrim have the same problems? Would be interesting... g I know that the story is long, it's horrible! The next two chapters are even longer! hangs head Sometimes I really hate my characters. They simply don't shut up.   
**Strider's Girl** - blushes Stop saying that. You'll give me delusions of grandeur. I thought that Aragorn should get the chance to fret over the twins for once. They do it all the time, it's simply not fair. g Ah yes, the GCSEs. You British are obsessed with exams, you really are. I wish you all the luck in the world, and really hope you'll get through this okay. Just don't take it too seriously - I know, a really stupid bit of advice. It works for me though, when I stop a moment to remember that it's not really THAT bad. Well, most of the time I lie to myself and it IS "that bad" - or worse. g So: Good luck! huggles   
**Alisha B** - You! I missed you! huggles Great to 'see' you again. Oh, and I know exactly what you mean. My books did indeed held me hostage for quite a long time - I thought I'd never get out of my room again! g I'm sorry to hear about your computer. I know how annoying they can be; my CD-writer doesn't work at the moment, and I really should try to repair it. I'm afraid to do anything though, since we all know the first rule when dealing with computers of any kind: Never change a running system. I might just make everything even worse... LOL, Death-by-balrog? I don't know why, but I simply fell off my chair at that. I never really saw it like that... g Oh, and people can survive a really long time, several minutes in fact. I guess that an elf can survive at least 4 or 5 minutes or something. Good for Glorfindel, huh? OMG, you're right! I promised them a Celylith clone, and he isn't even dead yet! I'm sorry about that, but I guess since nobody got the answer right, no harm's done. Oh, did I say "not dead yet"? Just a slip of the tongue, don't worry... evil grin But I really don't know why you don't trust me. Hmm, then again, I don't trust myself, so I guess you have a point. g Thanks a lot for the huge review, and I hope you manage to repair your family's computer!   
**Crippled Raven** - Nope, I can't get the stars. FF.net eats them, stupid, evil piece of software that is it... g LOL, you're right, there's a lot of worry floating around here. Everybody worries for everybody else... frowns That's a really stupid reason for making you hand in hand-written papers. I mean, you can STILL copy everything. shakes head That's really a stupid reason. g Second set sounds interesting though. We never had that kind of textbooks. I would have given a lot for something like that, though, I've always hated Maths with a passion. I don't think I CAN get the stars back though. I guess they're what FF.net calls "non-language relevant keyboard characters". I HATE this page, I really do. grrr   
**Sirithiliel** - Ah, that's nice to hear. That it was a compliment, I mean. It's not good to read stories at school, you know that, don't you? Well, I guess I shouldn't be talking, since I do it all the time myself. g Thanks for the review!  
**TrustingFriendship** - Don't worry, the stubborn Peredhel will wake up soon enough. And it's a real problem figuring out who will be allowed to kill whom. It's not easy, really. Too few villains, too many angry heroes. shrugs Well, we'll see. I hope.   
**Firniswin** - Yeah, you're right. Maybe they needed a vacation. Well, if that is so I hope that they get back SOON, because I'm really beginning to get angry here. I want my stars back. Thanks for yours, though. g blinks So you love your church, huh? Well, that's ... nice. I don't have a church, but whatever makes you happy. g I agree though: None of them is very happy at the moment. And don't worry about saying what you think Legolas will do. I'm quite sure it can't be more foolish than the actual plan. In fact, I'm sure it's not. g   
**Elvendancer** - No, OF COURSE you are not crazy. Keep telling yourself that and you might actually believe it someday. g I tried it for years and it didn't work very well. g Thanks for the review!   
**Grumpy** - LOL, yes, I guess you could say that. Hide and seek is as good a description as any. g You are right of course, it would be nice if Glamir simply turned into a pile of ashes on the floor. It would be too much to ask for though I guess. g   
**Shauna** - Well, it's nice that you are repeating yourself. It's good to hear that you liked this chapter as well. Believe it or not, this chapter isn't THAT action-packed. The next one is though. You're right of course, Legolas is very good at being reckless and stupid. And it won't be a very nice sight when everything goes straight to hell, believe me. g As always.   
**Alex Mistress Squirrel** - Hey! Long time no see! I won't shoot you, don't worry. I know that real life can get really hectic. LOL, yes I guess Legolas and I could mourn our stars together. Oh, and you'll see what Legolas' plan is soon enough. You might not like it though. Aragorn didn't, after all. g   
**Tychen** - Thanks for your stars. It's not too bad anyway, I just need some time to get used to the / things. I don't really like them all that much. g You are right of course, they aren't really in any shape to try and rescue someone, but since when did that ever stop them? And just how does everyone know what Legolas will do? LOL, Celylith the bendy toy? That IS an interesting comparison. And fitting, too. g   
**Firnsarnien** - Yup, Legolas IS a thoughtful elf. That's why we love him, after all. I love the twins, too, btw, but who doesn't? So you love every elf on Arda? What about Fëanor and his happy little family then? Wait a moment, he's not exactly on Arda, but still... And if you like anything with pointy ears, you like orcs as well. They ARE adorable, you're right. g LOL, I'm just trying to imagine our heroes rescuing a bag of small little pieces. It would be rather interesting. g Don't worry about Legolas going off on his own though. He's reckless, but he's not suicidal, at least not in my stories. Most of the time, that is. g   
**Marbienl** - You know what? I thought of blowing that bunny to pieces myself... g And they're not cute. They're evil and vicious and steal all my sleep. ALL the time. They're not cute. chokes Yes, I'm SURE you would love to see Estel on a leash. I won't go into this now. Or ever, actually. g And believe it or not, I thought about shaving his head. Well actually, I thought about shaving Legolas' head, but I guess that would have killed him. You know him and his hair. g But I don't really think that Glorfindel has told a lot of people about dying and all that. Would just seem ... wrong, somehow. Don't ask me why. And you're evil, did you know that? Poking poor Estel like that ... shakes head Evil you. And I have two papers due right now. One about tithes in the Middle Ages, and one about ... well, the Netherlands, believe it or not. More precisely, about the Dutch-Spanish Twelve-Years-Truce from 1609 and the Dutch-Spanish/Portuguese conflict in the colonies till the resumption of the war in 1621. grimaces I hate to tell you that, but it's not THAT fascinating a topic. If you know any good books about that topic, please tell me, as long as they're not in Dutch or Spanish. It's really hard to find any non-Dutch sources for this, did you know that? shudders I'm glad when it's over, really.   
**Iccle Fairy** - Who doesn't like stars! I love them! I have the very bad feeling that they won't work though, FF.net calls them "non-language relevant keyboard characters". Great, huh? And you really need to think about whether or not the plan is good? Of course it's not! shakes head Legolas' plans never are.   
**Karone Evertree** - Thanks! It's nice to know that you think the chapters are worth waiting for. And Elrohir is right, isn't he? It's never good if Legolas has a plan - especially towards the end of the story. It's never a good sign. g   
**Celebdil-galad Tinlaure** - Hmm, I haven't decided yet whether or not Glamir will actually dislocate Celylith's shoulder, so don't worry yet. I have to admit though that I am really leaning towards it at the moment... g I have no problems whatsoever writing things like that. It's the real torture that bothers me. Your guess isn't that far off, you know. Not quite right, but rather close. g I think there already is something like a Cellyith fan club out there, it's called the CLF, you remember? g Are you serious about the spiders? That's horrible? I have arachnophobia, and the mere idea is terrifying! I mean it, I HATE spiders! I have to admit that I have no idea what a cecadia is, but they sound rather annoying. I don't really know if Celylith would want them. g Oh, and I'm not 'fluent' in either of the two languages, but I usually can figure out what I want to say in a few minutes. I understand more Sindarin than Quenya at the moment, but I'm working on it.   
**Bookworm, .303** - Yeah, I've hear about (/) too, but I really don't want to use them, they don't really look good. I really, really hate FF.net, did I mention that? I guess I did once or twice, huh? I am really not sure if Legolas' plan would put your mind at ease - right now I doubt it, really. Silly elf. g   
**Elenora1** - Well, it's nice to hear that you're still enjoying my insane little story. huggles LOL, yes, I have tortured just about everybody, which is only fair of course. I couldn't torture only Legolas and Aragorn, now could? sighs No, you elf angst lovers are never satisfied, but let me see. looks at her timetable which is the only thing preventing this thing from sliding into complete chaos Legolas' little conversation with Teonvan was on Day 11, or Febr. 15th., the rather 'uneventful' (meaning mostly cuts and bruises) encounter with Glamir was on the evening of Day 19, and we now have Day 23 or Febr. 27th. So that means that his more serious injuries are now 12 days old, which is quite a long time for elves, especially when they're properly looked after, which was at least partly the case since Aragorn was there. So: No, Legolas' is definitely not fully healed, and all that worrying about the reckless ranger won't have done him much good either, but he's far from death's doors. He'll be able to pull this off, at least at the beginning. Knowing them, nothing goes accroding to plan, as always. g   
**Kathleen LaCorneille** - You are right of course, in the end everything will be well - mostly, that is. I'm too evil for a really happy end, I fear. g I'm so angry about the stars because I really got used to them by now. I don't know about French keyboards, but the / is right next to the left Shift key, below the A, and therefore awfully hard to reach if you want to use it frequently. The star, however, is below the backspace key, left of Enter, at least here in Germany. Far easier to reach, really. LOL, Elrond would most likely not have been overly pleased if he had had to melt the ice before he could get to Estel, I agree. Don't worry about Elladan, he'll wake up this chapter. I don't know the end of the joke though, sorry. You'll have to ask Glorfindel yourself, and the same goes for the word. Sorry.   
**Snow-Glory** - Yeah, well, rub it in, will you? It's so NICE to know that you can still use stars in your reviews... grr Hmmm, let me think, why do all healers appear to be evil? I don't know, maybe because they are? It might also be because they have to put up with Legolas and Estel, and that's not easy, we know that. g Glad you liked the bet. Celylith IS rather insane, isn't he? pats his head Don't worry, I still like you. I may have a funny way of showing it, but I do. g   
**Salara** - Ah, keine Angst, das neue Kapitel kommt erst heute. Kein Grund zur Panik... g Ich erinnere mich uebrigens noch gut an den Anfang der Geschichte, wo du eben diese Vermutung aeussertest. Und jetzt behaelst du sogar Recht! g Hmm, du meinst den guten Sero? Also, um den wuerde ich mir wirklich keine Sorgen machen, ein Veraeter (Cendan) ist mir genug. Sonst werden's hier noch zu viele und keiner blickt mehr durch. Yup, wir haben fuenf Katzen, aber du willst keine von denen, glaub' mir, die sind alle geistesgestoert. Wir haben Bluemchen oder Der Rote, einen Hippy-Kater, der nur die ganze Zeit wie auf Hasch durch die Gegend guckt, einen schwulen Kater (kein Scherz) mit dem Namen Tunti-Tuffy oder Tuffy-Schwuchtel oder verschiedenen Variationen und der (Artikel ist wichtig) Koenigskatze, eine Katze, die nur 'rumsitzt und sich fuer die schoenste und tollste haelt. Dann haben wir noch Die Kleine, die hier von jeder anderen Katze gepruegelt wird und von einer Ecke in die andere huscht, und Schmulay el Raisulay, oder Shmul, ganz nach belieben, einen absoluten Macho-Kater, der sich nicht richtig putzt. Frag lieber nicht, aber glaub' mir, du willst keinen von denen. g Wie immer Danke fuer die lange Review! knuddel   
**Sadie Elfgirl** - g Well, who doesn't feel sorry for poor Celylith? He's really not in a very good position right now - and neither is Glorfindel now that I think about it... Hmmm, maybe you ARE right, after all. Legolas' plan just might be a little bit stupid. Or a lot, depends on your perspective. g Yes, there are only two more chapters after this one; believe me, one more and I would go stark raving mad. I have indeed another one planned (well, not really 'planned', but I have a vague idea about what it's going to be), but it won't come out for some time, I'm afraid. I really don't have enough time at the moment. shakes head sadly   
**Nietta** - I know. We really DO hate each other, and unfortunately FF.net is winning at the moment... grrr I hate this bloody page, I really do. Nope, you shouldn't have bet the £100. Sorry. evil grin All I'm going to say is: Never underestimate the OCs, especially in this story. They're quite mad themselves. g It's always nice to hear that you like the humour. There are lines that amuse me to no end too - I'm weird, I know, laughing about my own jokes. Ah well, I AM insane, so that shouldn't really surprise me, should it? g Hmm, about Troy: Let's just say that I haven't seen it, and that you could pay me those £100 and I still wouldn't go and see it. I study Ancient History, you know? A friend of mine saw it and told me all about it - there are things I can't see, and this ... movie is one of them. That noise you hear all the time in background when you watch it is the sound of Homer spinning in his grave. Nothing against Eric Bana or Brad Pitt (both are extremely yummy in my opinion), but apart from the fact that I hate Sean Bean and will never forgive him for playing my all time favourite Odysseus/Ulysses, there are just things you don't do with Homer, for starters ignoring the Gods. You can't do that, and you can't let Paris live and kill Menelaos, or cut out Patroklos or Achilleus' son whose name I have forgotten - yes, he had a SON, for crying out loud. And Helena returned to Sparta with Menelaos, and Achilleus died a long time before Troy was conquered, and and and... takes a deep breath Sorry. I just couldn't take it. I LOVE Homer, and what they've done to the Ilias is something I couldn't watch, and I would certainly not pay any money for it. So you liked it, huh? sheepishly Sorry, that's okay of course. Not everyone is quite as mad I am about Homer and adherence to historical (or literary) facts. Good luck with your exams, and thanks a lot for the long review!  
**Suzi** - Hey! huggles Nice to 'see' you again! Connor did what? He broke your fingers? Really? That's quite ... male, I guess. Another proof that he's part Númenórean, isn't it? I BET he's really Nú (Neg.). g LOL, the more I read about him the more he really appears to have some remote ties with the twins and Estel. It's rather scary, huh? But I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to entertain him here. We don't have ... enough space, yes, that's it. Plus my dog is allergic to stubborn, reckless Scots. smiles friendly Sorry, but I love my dog. He'll have to find someone else to torment and injure... g So the word is 'mittens'? I have to admit I had to look it up because I had absolutely no idea what it meant, but now that I have found out I can tell you that it's NOT. Surprise. g Why would call Glorifndel Erestor a glove? frowns Nah, I don't think so. Zam's name for the ox is in fact Oswald Spalding, I just didn't get to finish it. It's nice, isn't it? g Oh, so Eva's here! Hey! waves Nice to see you! I hope you got used to wherever you moved and that you found a lot of new friends! I'm sure you did - any friend of Suzi's just has to be friendly and sociable... No, that wasn't sarcastic. Not at all. keep a straight face keep a straight face keep... Well, I hope you get better soon, thanks for the long review and the TONS of cookies! huggles   
**CrazyLOTRfan** - Yup, I want my stars back. It's not really too much to ask, is it? I HAVE a working printer/photocopy machine/scanner, and now that I think about it, I like it even more than my stars. I would have suggested a trade otherwise, but.... shrugs Sorry. Hmm, I don't think that Elrond will be in Mirkwood when they arrive. I have yet to think of a reason why he wouldn't be there, but I don't want to put him just into the last chapter. Don't ask me why, I don't really know myself. LOL, you're right, we should really consider what all this would do to poor Mandos. He'd be stuck with all three of Elrond's sons (at least for a while), Legolas, Celylith AND Glorfindel AGAIN. I'm sure that's why they are so lucky and don't die, Námo went to Manwë and begged him to protect them because he would go insane othewise! g Well, have fun with your biology Homework. It's a LOT of fun, I'm sure. evil grin   
  
**sighs I still don't have my stars back. It's sad really. Well, as always, thanks for all the reviews! They cheered me up a little! g**


	31. Complications

**Disclaimer: ** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.   
  
  
**A/N:  
  
I tried. I tried very hard, really, but I have to admit that I gave up in the end. Once again I have been bested by my characters who simply refuse to shut up! growls darkly You have no idea what I'm talking about, right? readers shake heads cautiously Well, let me explain then. I tried to write a nice, simple chapter - you know, full of the funny, amusing things: Blood, mayhem, chaos, death, destruction and so on and so forth. The problem was that I reached page 38 and hadn't even killed all the villains, which was essentially the point when I decided that it really was TOO LONG. Yes, I needed 38 pages to realise that. g  
  
So I have to announce that there will be two more chapters after this one, not one as I had planned in the beginning. I am still rather unhappy about having 33 chapter instead of 32 as I intended, but I would have ended up with a 50-pages-chapter, which would have been a bit excessive even for me. The cliffies that inevitably popped up in this chapter are also unintentional, because I hadn't even planned to write two separate chapters. g This time you can't even blame my alter ego, which will most certainly not stop most of you. g  
  
  
Okay, I won't bother you with any more of my mindless blabbering, because I guess you want to get to the interesting part about the blood, mayhem etc. g There is quite a lot of it in this chapter too, in which we also see Legolas who carries out the second part of his brilliant plan (snicker), a bit of Aragorn and Glorfindel and also a bit of Laenro and Cendan. Sero, Menvan and a multitude of face- and nameless minions make an appearance too, as well as one of our missing prisoners. No, I won't tell you which one now. evil grin  
  
Have fun and review, please!**

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Chapter 31  
  
  
If Legolas hadn't been expecting Cendan's actions, the speed and efficiency with which they were executed would have surprised even him. He had indeed been right about one thing: The half-Easterling lieutenant was an extremely dangerous man, and he was glad he wouldn't have to fight him – at least not straight away. He didn't trust him implicitly after all, and he was still not sure where exactly his loyalties lay.   
  
The way things were, however, he didn't even need half a second to adapt to the new situation. Before Cendan had even turned back around, Legolas' fingers had closed around the knife's handle and he had swivelled to the left, into the direction of the second guard who had flanked him and had still not fully understood that half of the guards were turning against him and his companions.   
  
Cendan's men had just begun to lunge at the other soldiers when Legolas closed the distance between himself and the man and slammed the hilt of Cendan's knife against the guard's skull. The man crumbled to the floor without a sound, his blade clattering onto the wooden floorboards, and Legolas avoided his falling body with the agility that long practice brought and turned to the left. He just managed to avoid a guard that had shaken off his temporary paralysis, his sword held in front of him like a spear in the very clear intention of running him through.   
  
Legolas swore inwardly and moved backwards and to the side, his back nearly hitting the wooden wall behind him. The guard rushed past him, unable to compensate for his "victim's" quick movements, and in the moment the man passed him Legolas gave him a kick that sent him flying forward. The man impacted with the wooden railing with an audible thud that was quickly followed by a gasp as the breath was knocked out of him, and before the man had time to gather his wits the elf was behind him and slammed his head hard against the carved balustrade.   
  
The guard collapsed just as soundlessly as his comrade had a second earlier, and the elven prince let go of his head, not even trying to find some sympathy or remorse in his heart. In his eyes every soldier in this city deserved what he got, and they could count themselves lucky if he didn't kill them right away – something he was more than willing to do now that he thought about it.   
  
Legolas abandoned that train of thought and quickly turned back around, taking a few seconds to survey his surroundings even despite the urgency that nearly overwhelmed his senses. A starker contrast to earlier was not thinkable, and the elf would nearly not have recognised the small space. Cendan's men seemed to be just as effective as their commander, the elf decided in a split second as he watched the dark haired lieutenant's guards dispatch their former colleagues with practised efficiency. At least half a dozen men were already lying on the ground, most of them motionless and surrounded by quite a bit of blood.   
  
Still, Legolas thought darkly, the situation was far from under control – and if he was perfectly honest, he would be very much astonished if they managed to _get _it under control, his more pessimistic side whispered softly. More soldiers were beginning to rush up the stairs, and Girion's personal bodyguards had drawn a tight circle around their lord, Teonvan and several of the councilmen who had been lucky enough to be close to Girion when the attack had started. The men were undoubtedly professionals, and the ease and skill with which they fought to protect their charges was something that, as admirable as it may have been under different circumstances, was decidedly annoying now.   
  
Legolas didn't have any time to dwell any further on that rather depressing subject, because Cendan's voice could be heard over the noise of the fighting, sounding mildly troubled, which was probably the lieutenant's equivalent of deep concern.   
"Elf! Get down!!"   
  
No matter how much or little he trusted the dark haired man, he was not stupid enough to ignore such a warning in the heat of battle. With hesitating for even a second, the elf allowed himself to drop to the floor, wincing slightly as his side hit the hard floorboards. A split second later he heard something cut through the air above his head where his chest had been only a moment ago, and after another second a dagger imbedded itself in the wall behind him. Legolas remained where he was for a moment, slightly stunned by the impact, before he scrambled back to his feet and narrowly avoided being skewered by another guard who had apparently decided to seize this chance to kill the troublesome elf once and for all. He hadn't counted on his intended victim's speed though, and so he quickly joined his fallen companions on the floor, clutching his bloody arm.   
  
Legolas spared the man not even a second glance and quickly scanned his surroundings, cursing softly when he saw that a large number of guards had moved between him and the part of the room that was overlooking the field, surrounded by the carved wooden balustrade. The elf cursed again as he rushed over to the men that had clustered around Girion's abandoned chair, his grip on his knife tightening. How much time had passed since the dark haired man had given the order to hang Glorfindel, thirty, forty, fifty seconds? He shook his head quickly, the dread in his heart only intensifying. No matter how much time it was, it was too much.   
  
The elf side-stepped a group of Cendan's men who were trying to stop Girion's men who were still rushing up the stairs, at least until their companions in the crowd could offer them some assistance. In a matter of moments he had reached the group of guards who had apparently decided to make their stand here, and immediately began attacking the man standing closest to him, trying not to give the men enough time to come to terms with this new threat.   
  
It were about a dozen men that were separating him from the railing, and while Legolas was spinning and dodging blows, he asked himself once again why – and when – exactly he had thought this to be a good idea. Well, he thought as he danced to the side to avoid a sword that would have pinned him to the wall like a worm on a hook, this _was _the only place from which an archer could hope to be of any help here. The field was too flat for anyone to fire an arrow and there were too many people anyway, the castle was too heavily guarded and the houses of the city were too far away, so the only structure available that was higher or as high as the scaffold was this one.   
  
Still, he decided, now that he was actually _on _said structure and in the process of being cut to pieces by a group of rather ill-tempered guards, it did _not _appear like a very good idea. He should have listened to Aragorn after all – even if that was something he wouldn't tell the man, at least not voluntarily or in a sober state.   
  
He had dwelled on this for half a second too long, and one of his adversaries was quick to use his short time of distraction. The elf gritted his teeth and gripped his dagger more tightly as one of the guards managed to break through his defences while he was fighting two others, and the man's sword left a long, bleeding line on his left arm. Legolas forced himself to ignore the injury and switched the knife from his right to his left hand, which was about the last thing the man had expected him to do. Before the guard could even react, the elf's knife had buried itself in his right shoulder and the man stumbled back, screaming in pain as his blade fell to the floor with a clanking noise.   
  
Legolas yanked the knife back with a sudden movement, not trying to cause the man any more pain, but not overly concerned about being gentle either. The other men fell back for a second, and Legolas felt how his face twisted into a dark, annoyed grimace. He didn't have time for this, he thought desperately, he didn't have time to trifle with these men. The plan had been that Cendan and his men held the other guards back so he could get to the balustrade for a few seconds, but it appeared that both they and the dark haired lieutenant had underestimated the number of guards that would be present.   
  
The urgency began to spread, only fuelled by the roaring of the crowd he could hear but not see. It could mean any number of things, from mere excitement to surprise to readiness to try and help Laenro and his men, but Legolas' worried mind automatically came up with the worst scenarios imaginable. With an inward growl he switched the knife back to his right hand, noticing that the left began to become slick with the blood that was flowing down from the cut in his upper arm, and a moment later he moved forward, right into the midst of the men that were still watching him, their eyes full of apprehension and hatred.   
  
The first two men were too surprised by his sudden, to the human eye unbelievingly fast movements, and were incapable of putting up much of a fight, but the resistance of the rest of the guards wasn't so easily overcome. Legolas sensed how he became increasingly frantic and desperate; this was taking too long, far too long! He should have been finished already, if he didn't manage to eliminate these men in the next few seconds he'd be too late and then…   
  
A sudden, swishing noise startled the elf and caused him to move to the side on instinct, and only half a second later something black and vaguely cylindrical was protruding from the chest of the man Legolas was currently fighting. Legolas narrowed his eyes at the object, truly puzzled for a moment, but then he realised that the object was in fact a knife hilt. Another soft noise drew his attention to the left where another guard collapsed with a gurgling sound as another knife found its mark in the middle of his throat, and a second later three men joined the fray, pushing Legolas' remaining adversaries back and catching them totally by surprise.   
  
Legolas used this short reprieve and thrust his own weapon into the side of the only guard close to him that had managed to withstand the onslaught of the three newcomers. The man went down without uttering a sound, and Legolas rushed forward, already knowing who the three men would be. Just as he had thought, he saw Cendan and two of his men who were rather earnestly occupied with eliminating the shrinking group of guards and preventing any of Girion's soldiers from coming to their aid.   
  
Cendan, now lacking his knives that usually hung from his belt, wrenched his sword out of the armour of one of the soldiers he had just killed and gave the elf a dark look, who appeared to be torn between coming to their aid and rushing over to the balustrade.   
  
"You should have told me you have a death wish, elf," he told him quickly before ducking under a blow that had been aimed at his head. "I could have accommodated you." The man ignored the annoyed look on the elf's face and added, "Go. I will keep my part of the bargain, so go and keep yours. We'll make sure no one disturbs you."   
  
Legolas merely gave the man a curt nod and raced over to the balcony, for the first time feeling as if the plan just might work. He didn't really trust Cendan, but he believed what he had just said. He had given him his word that he would cover his back, and if Legolas had learned one thing in the past, it was that Cendan would never break his word.   
  
The optimistic feeling lasted for only a second, and when he reached the wooden balustrade where Girion had stood and watched the crowd only a few minutes ago, he felt how his heart and with it his composure fell straight into his stomach. The elf didn't notice the sleet that hit his unprotected face, he didn't notice the wind that whipped his hair around his face; all his attention was focused on the sight that spread out in front of his eyes.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that Laenro had indeed not exaggerated when he had promised that his men could throw the field into chaos within a matter of minutes. Even Legolas' elven eyes had trouble identifying which people were which, and every square inch of the large area seemed to be covered with groups of people who were either fighting or trying to escape the mêlée. Legolas watched as a group of humans who appeared to be trying to leave the field stopped, and after a second of arguing, launched themselves at a pair of soldiers who were busy fighting a few of Laenro's men. Girion's men were overwhelmed almost instantly, and the small part of Legolas that was still capable of reasonable thought noted with satisfaction that at least some of the town's inhabitants were willing to help them.   
  
All this the elf saw in less than a second, for his eyes were drawn almost immediately to the tall figure of Glorfindel who was standing on the wooden platform, his head held high in a manner that told every observer that he had nothing but contempt for the people around him. The lines of the guards that surrounded the scaffold were still strong and unbroken, and Legolas saw in an instant that it would take Laenro's men several more minutes to reach it – minutes they did not have. It was just as they had thought, the guards were too many and there was no way to reach Glorfindel before…   
  
The elf's thoughts trailed off into nothing, and he watched as if in a trance how one of the officers who were trying to organise their men into something resembling a fighting formation shouted something at the men standing behind the other elf. One of them nodded fervently and motioned to his companions, and all Legolas could do was stare as one of the men reached out and pulled a lever at the back of the gallows.   
  
Surprise flickered briefly over the golden haired elf's face as the trapdoor he was standing on opened and the ground was pulled out from under his feet. Legolas thought he heard Aragorn scream as the elf fell, even though it might only have been his imagination, because screaming was exactly what he wanted to do now. The sounds of fighting and even of the excited crowd below faded as time seemed to speed up again and Legolas sprang into action, feeling as if he had just been dumped into the Forest River in mid-winter.   
  
Without waiting to see whether or not Glorfindel had survived the fall Legolas whirled around, his eyes wandering fervently over Girion's chair. Where was it, he screamed inwardly as his hands desperately searched the base of the seat. Menvan had said it was here, it should be here, what would he do if it wasn't here, what…   
  
His nearly frantic musings were cut short as his fingers closed around a hard, smooth, comfortingly familiar object someone had cleverly hidden in the folds of the dark red velvet that had been draped decoratively over the carved chair, and with an inward prayer of thanks to whichever Vala was listening right now he pulled it out of its hiding place. Legolas didn't even stop to give his quiver which he had never expected to see again a second look and turned back around to the balustrade, his hands pulling the bow out of the quiver without thinking. The beautifully crafted weapon instilled him with new confidence, and he knew with certainty that it had been the right decision to persuade Cendan and his second-in-command to get him his bow. If he had to get used to another one now, he was rather sure that all this would be in vain.   
  
How long could an elf survive without air, the fair haired prince mused frantically as he struggled to string his bow. Two minutes? Three? More? Less? Aragorn would probably be able to tell him, a part of him provided quietly, if the man was still alive, that was. If he knew him at all, he would do everything in his power to get to Glorfindel, and Ilúvatar alone knew what kinds of situation he would get himself into…   
  
The elf cursed Cendan several times for not already stringing the weapon – something which the man would have been unable to do, of course, since it must have been hard enough to get the weapon here at all, but Legolas was really not in the mood to be reasonable about this – and after what felt like several ages the elf's fingers finally managed to force the string into place. He took a step forward, his eyes wandering over the scene in front of him. Relief so strong that it nearly sent him to his knees raced through him as he saw that the other elf was still alive – slowly suffocating and desperately struggling while he was beginning to spin around his own axis, but _alive_.   
  
Legolas sent another prayer to the Valar and raised his bow, doing his best not to think about what consequences a failure on his part would have. This was _not _how it had been planned, he thought furiously as he reached for an arrow and notched his bow. He had been supposed to shoot the men guarding Glorfindel, to distract the guards and to buy them some time until Aragorn, Laenro and the others could reach him, and not to do anything like this! That had been their wonderful master plan, and if he had known it would come to something like this he would have…   
  
…done just the same, he decided in a split second while he carefully took aim, blocking out both the other elf's increasingly red features and the sounds of battle behind him. This was not the time for self-doubt or diffidence; if he failed, Lord Glorfindel would die, it was as simple as that. He had made shots far more difficult, even though he could remember few made under direr circumstances. The visibility was poor but good enough, the wind was bearable and not strong enough to knock an arrow off course, he had clear view of his target that was moving in a reasonably predictably way and … he was out of time.   
  
The blond elf's struggles were beginning to grow weaker, and even though Legolas did his best not to look at his face for fear of losing the rest of his composure, the elven prince saw that the elf lord's eyes were slowly beginning to drift shut. If he wanted to do something, he had to do it now.   
  
Legolas took a deep breath and pushed all the fears and doubts that still preyed on his heart back, concentrating only on his target as he had been taught when he had still been an elfling and dreaming about fame, glory and exciting adventures, just like about every young male of that age did, regardless his race.   
  
A moment later he exhaled and let the projectile fly, and in the moment the arrow left his bow the elven prince found himself praying that Aragorn had been right and that the trust the young human had put in him had not been misplaced. 

  
  
A part of Aragorn had frozen with fear and panic when he had seen Glorfindel fall, while another part of him was angry, no, that wasn't the right word to describe it. He had left angry far behind and was now furious, so furious that he would have been hard-pressed to name an occasion when he had been more infuriated.   
  
A scream he couldn't remember uttering was still echoing in his ears, reverberating through his head and threatening to rob him of the last shreds of his composure. With an unarticulated growl of rage the young ranger threw himself at the nearest guard, ignoring the cautioning call of Laenro or one of his men. Aragorn thrust his sword forward and down, eliminating two guards in the process, all this attention focused on the wooden structure and the struggling figure of his teacher who was beginning to spin around his own axis by the thick rope that hung from the gallows.   
  
How dare these people, he thought furiously as he pushed forward, engaging the next guard and then the next. How dare they do this, how dare they try to kill his friend, his father's friend! The sudden image of his adoptive father's face appeared in his mind's eye, the elf's grey eyes filled with tears and looking so desolate that Aragorn's heart broke at the mere thought of it. It would be a crushing blow to Elrond to lose his best friend like this, after so many ages and all the battles the two of them had survived together, a blow from which the half-elven lord would most likely never fully recover.   
  
Aragorn tightened his grip on his sword and slammed the hilt into the face of an attacking guard, his healing wounds protesting against the strain placed on them by the abrupt movements. He would _not _ return home to his father bearing such news, he – would – not. There was absolutely no way he would allow these people to kill Glorfindel just like that, and he would make them pay for even attempting it. Suddenly a hand grabbed his coat and over shirt and pulled him to the side, causing a sword to miss him by inches. Aragorn didn't turn to see who had just saved him from injury or death and brought his own sword down, thrusting the blade into the shoulder of his opponent who went down with a scream.   
  
A moment later he looked up and to the right, straight into the face of Laenro's second-in-command. Sero's grey hair had come loose of its braid and flew wildly around his head, something that, in combination with the grin on his face, served to give him a reckless, bloodthirsty look. Aragorn smiled slightly at the older man who returned it, apparently enjoying himself immensely.   
  
"Careful, boy," the older man advised him with a wide grin, "Don't be so eager to get yourself killed, or these gentlemen just might oblige your wish."   
  
Aragorn shook his head unwillingly, already pushing forward again, into the directions of the wooden platform. He didn't have time for idle conversation, couldn't this man see that?   
"Help me get to the gallows!" he yelled curtly over the sound of battle that nearly drowned out all other noises around them. "We have to help him!"   
  
"We will be too late," Sero yelled back and thrust his sword into the side of another attacking guard, doing his best to stay close to the obviously rather insane lad. He had taking a liking to him, he didn't really know why, and he would most certainly not allow him to get himself killed on a fool's errand. "Your friend wasn't fast enough. There's nothing we can do but try to get to Girion's podium and stop him from escaping!"   
  
Before Sero even knew what was happening, the younger man had whirled around, a look of such fury and determination in his silver eyes that Sero would nearly have taken a step back. Even without the now blood-stained sword one of the men had thrust into the boy's hands before all this had begun the ranger looked more than ready to kill him and anyone who tried to stop him from coming to his friend's aid, and Sero suddenly found himself wishing that he had kept his mouth shut.   
  
"I don't care about Girion!" the younger man hissed at Sero, eyes hard and steely in his face. "I will _not _let Glorfindel die! Legolas will think of something, and now you can either help me get to my friend or you can be quiet and leave me be!"   
  
Sero shook his head at the younger man, inwardly asking himself if no one had ever taught this youth to respect his elders. Apparently not, he decided with an inward grin as he saw the determined, dangerous sparkle in the ranger's eyes, and instead of an anwer he took a step forward and slammed his fist into the face of a guard who had decided to use their moment of distraction.   
  
"After you, boy."   
  
Aragorn nodded at the older man and followed his example, throwing himself at the next guard who was following in his comrade's wake. How much time had passed since the guard had pulled that lever? Two minutes? Even more? He honestly couldn't tell, and that was beginning to send him into a state closely resembling a panic. He knew that elves, even more so than humans, could survive strangulation for several minutes, and that even when a person stopped breathing, he or she wasn't necessarily dead, but that didn't comfort him in the slightest. That the elf's neck hadn't been broken once his body had been jerked to stop was a blessing, but he knew that, unless Legolas did something or they reached the golden haired elf in the next minute or so, it wouldn't matter and would in fact have been more merciful if his neck _ had _been snapped on impact.   
  
'Please, Legolas, do something,' he found himself wishing with all his heart while he did his best to break through the slowly crumbling lines of guards that were still guarding the scaffold, flanked by Sero and a few of his men. 'Do something, I know you can make it, _mellon nín_, you are the only one who can. Do something, please…'   
  
It was almost as if the fair haired elf had been able to hear his fervent pleas, for half a second later a brown feathered cut through the air a few metres ahead of them, nearly impaling one of the guards that jumped to the side in sudden fright. The arrow continued its trajectory and sliced through the rope wrapped around the golden haired elf's neck. It was no perfectly clean shot since it severed only half of the rope, and the frayed threads gave way abruptly, dropping the still weakly struggling elf another few inches. He was still far too high up for him to get his feet under his body (even if he'd had the strength to attempt such a thing), and Aragorn was just turning to Girion's gallery to look for Legolas when a second arrow passed over their heads, this time slicing neatly through the remaining fibres of the rope.   
  
Aragorn released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding when Glorfindel dropped the remaining seven or eight feet to the ground, hitting the frozen earth hard. A moment later another arrow imbedded itself in the throat of the guard who had pulled the lever, something that filled Aragorn with far more satisfaction than it should have. The next one hit the officer who had given the order, and that was the moment when the guards still standing on the scaffold realised that it was a bad idea to remain where they were like sitting ducks and let themselves be killed one by one. A mad dash for the stairs set in, and Aragorn realised that this was his best chance to get to the fallen elf before any of the soldiers could get the idea to kill him rather than allow him to be freed.   
  
"Cover me!" he yelled at no one in particular and rushed forward, completely ignoring Sero's calls for him to wait and side-stepping two guards who were quite intent on putting as much distance as humanly possible between themselves and the platform. In a matter of moments he had reached the base of the scaffold and with it the last remaining guards separating him from the unmoving elf and Aragorn threw himself at them, fuelled both by his mounting worry and the fury that still filled the bigger part of him.   
  
He realised a moment too late that it just might have been a mistake to engage a group of eight humans all alone and not up to his full strength, a suspicion that was only fortified when a blow he could hardly block threw him back against a wooden pole at his back. The impact stunned him for a few seconds as pain flared to life in his still healing wounds, and he couldn't react in time when another guard stepped forward and, an insufferably smug smile on his face, thrust his blade through the young ranger's left shoulder, securely pinning him to the pole.   
  
For a moment, Aragorn didn't feel anything, but then pain exploded in his upper arm and he would have sunken to his knees if the sword through his shoulder hadn't kept him upright. The young man couldn't quite suppress a pained scream as the guard wrenched his blade out of his shoulder and, paralysed with pain as he was for the moment, he could do nothing but stare as the man drew back and prepared to thrust his sword through his middle.   
  
Before the soldier could impale him though, the man's body was thrown forward and to the side as an arrow hit him in the back of his shoulder, the force of the impact spinning him around. A second arrow hit the guard next to Aragorn in the throat, and a second later two more men others joined their companions on the ground, both of them holding bloody arrow wounds. Aragorn needed only a second to react, and a few moments later all the guards lay on the cold earth or had fled.   
  
The young ranger gritted his teeth and sheathed his sword, doing his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He quickly turned around and made sure that there were no more soldiers that posed an immediate threat before his eyes searched for Legolas' figure among the fighting men that could be seen on the other wooden structure. A flash of blond hair caught his attention, and Aragorn smiled and waved quickly as Legolas raised a hand in greeting before notching another arrow to his bow with lightning speed and letting it fly, hitting a man in the chest who had been sneaking up on the distracted ranger.   
  
Aragorn whirled around, the pain in his arm forgotten for the moment, and shook his head as he saw the dead man behind him who had come disconcertingly close to running him through.   
  
"Show-off," he muttered between gritted teeth and turned around to rush over to the motionless elf. Sero and two of his men arrived on the scene just as he was turning to the scaffold, and without waiting for them to say anything he once again told them to cover him and began to run over to Glorfindel's body.   
  
His heart was beating in his chest so quickly that Aragorn feared it might explode, and when he had reached the golden haired elf, he was sure that he was dead. They had been too late after all, they had been too late to save Glorfindel and now he was dead, and it was all his fault. All he could think about was the fact that he would never again speak to the wise re-born warrior from Gondolin, whose death would surely destroy his father, he was sure about it…   
  
With hands shaking with grief, fear and suppressed pain he gently grasped the fair haired elf's shoulders and turned him onto his back, his breath catching in his throat as he saw his injuries close up. The man pressed a hand against the elf's throat next to the rope, hoping against hope that he would find a heartbeat there, and nearly fell over in surprise when he did feel the weak beating of a heart and even detected the soft signs of breathing.   
  
For a moment, Aragorn was too stunned to react, so much had he expected to find the ancient elf dead, but a second later he shook off the shock that had laid itself over his senses. With a movement almost too quick for the human eye to follow he had drawn the knife Laenro had reluctantly provided him with and had sliced through the noose that was still wrapped tightly around the elf's throat. Another second later he had cut the bonds that secured the other's hands behind his back. As soon as the ropes fell away, the blond elf coughed and sucked in a deep breath, his hands automatically going to his bruised throat, and Aragorn was helpless to suppress the wide grin that spread over his face as he decided that he had never heard a more beautiful sound than Glorfindel struggling to draw air into his lungs.   
  
The noise of fighting seemed to fade away as Aragorn helped the semi-conscious elf to sit up, so concentrated was the young human on his elven friend. After a few more seconds the elf's breathing had evened out a little and he had stopped coughing, and a moment later he opened his uninjured eye, a slightly amused sparkle shining through the pain and last remnants of panic that still filled them.   
"That was … about time."   
  
The grin on Aragorn's face widened even more as he looked at the elf he held upright, his eye narrowing in concern when he saw the raw, red marks on Glorfindel's throat where the rope had bit into his skin.  
"Forgive us, my lord," he answered lightly. "You are right; Legolas and I have to be severely reprimanded for our tardiness. The next time we will try to rescue you more quickly and without causing you so much inconvenience."   
  
"I seriously … hope so, Estel," Glorfindel all but croaked. "I must admit that I was beginning to … get slightly … annoyed towards the end." He paused for a moment before his head flew up anxiously. "The … twins?"   
  
"Are fine," Aragorn soothed softly. "Do not trouble yourself. They are safe. And I am very sorry about all this, my lord," Aragorn bowed slightly. "We'll do better next time."   
  
An answering grin began to spread over Glorfindel's face and he struggled to sit up on his own, something he managed to do after a few seconds with the young ranger's help.   
"There won't _be _a next time, young one," he shook his head, wavering slightly back and forth. "I will tell your father about all this, and if Elrond has any sense at all, he will lock you in the cellars and will never allow you to leave Imladris again." He grimaced slightly. "And he'll kill me, but that's another story."   
  
"Most likely," Aragorn agreed and looked about him, slowly beginning to take in their surroundings again. His eyes wandered over the chaotic field in front of them and he inwardly shook his head in slight self-reproach. They had lingered far too long here already. He returned his attention to the elf in front of him, a concerned expression on his face. "Can you stand, my friend? We must hurry."   
  
"Stand?" Glorfindel echoed unbelievingly and struggled to get to his feet. "I can do more than that! Give me that knife of yours and you'll see how well I can 'stand'."   
  
Aragorn smiled as he pulled the elf into a standing position, inwardly frowning when he sensed how much weight the blond elf had lost. Glorfindel had always been broad-shouldered and muscular for an elf, and right now the man had the feeling that he weighted not nearly enough. Once he was sure that Glorfindel wouldn't collapse immediately – something that most likely only the elf's pride prevented – Aragorn quickly shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over the elf's bare shoulders. He ignored the other's protests and pressed his dagger into his hands, smiling once again when he saw the dark, indignant expression on his face.   
  
"Don't waste your breath arguing with me," he shook his head and touched the other's arm, motioning him to follow him. He would have liked to stay close to the elf to make sure that he wouldn't stumble or fall, but he knew better than to offer any more assistance. "You are hurt and need the warmth."   
  
Glorfindel gave the far younger being a dark look as he followed him out from under the scaffold, his eyes wandering over his surroundings. The pain in his body had lessened considerably as it was suppressed by the adrenaline that flowed through his veins, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would reach his limits. He had still trouble drawing breath, his throat feeling as if someone had squeezed it in a vice (which, now that he thought about it, wasn't even that far from the truth), and the welts and cuts and his broken ribs were still a dull, ever-present painful throbbing at the back of his mind.  
  
He was still of the opinion that nothing could ever hurt as much as his encounter with the balrog all those ages ago, but he had to admit that being hanged did have its disadvantages as well. The feeling of falling into nothing had already been highly unpleasant, but to feel the rope tighten around his neck and start to suffocate slowly had been even worse. There were few things that could wake panic into one's heart quite like the inability to draw breath, and Glorfindel was honest enough to admit to himself that, in the end, he had been close to terrified.  
  
To make matters even worse, he thought wryly, he had landed on his shoulder when the rope had been severed, and he was rather certain that, if his collarbone hadn't been broken before, it was now. Still, he added stubbornly as he hurried to keep up with the young man, these were things he wouldn't tell a child like Aragorn.   
  
Soon he needed most of his concentration to keep standing and to follow Aragorn, who was reasonable enough not to offer him any assistance. They needed only a few seconds to step out from under the scaffold, and Aragorn quickly saw how much the field had changed in the past few moments. The fighting had moved off into the direction of the castle and the edges of the area, and even though it was still hard to tell, it appeared that Laenro's and Cendan's men had managed to push the main part of the guards back and away from the scaffold and Girion's gallery. The soldiers' lines were still holding, but it was clear that it was only a matter of time before they would crumble. One could almost watch how the soldiers either fled or even changed sides once they saw that their officers were dead, and suddenly Aragorn realised that they really might make this plan work.   
  
Before he could turn around to Glorfindel and tell him to follow him over to the wooden gallery, they were joined by Sero and two of his men who appeared as if out of nowhere from around the scaffold. Sero appeared unhurt except for a large cut that ran over his left cheek, and the blood that covered most of his face only added to the rather disconcerting impression that he was having the time of his life.   
  
The grey haired man raised an eyebrow and looked at the slightly swaying elf, who looked healthier than he had thought anyone who had just been nearly hanged and had spent several days in Glamir's dungeons could look. He shrugged inwardly. Maybe some of the old stories were true after all: Elves were not normal, which was something he should have realised by now, really. The blond one had been something of a giveaway, hadn't he?   
  
Sero gave the elf a curt nod before he redirected his attention to the dark haired ranger who had acquired a rather bloody hole in his left shoulder since he had last seen him.   
"We need to get over to the others. The guards are retreating to the castle, but the rest of Cendan's men is waiting for them – if you can trust his word, that is, which I don't. Not even for a minute."   
  
"You can trust him, at least in this matter," Aragorn assured the man. "Where is…"   
  
Before he could say more, a man wearing the grey and black livery of Girion's house came running up to them, and Aragorn felt Glorfindel tense next to him as the elf's eyes narrowed to take in the new threat. The ranger would almost have reached for his sword as well, but then he saw the strip of red cloth the man had wrapped around his sword arm, the sign Cendan and Laenro had agreed on to prevent their men from killing each other. A moment later Aragorn realised that it was Menvan who was now skidding to a halt next to them, an urgent expression on his blood-stained face.   
  
Sero merely cocked an eyebrow at the younger man and waited for him to regain his breath sufficiently to speak. It appeared that he liked Cendan's second-in-command about as little as his lieutenant. Menvan needed another second to gulp air into his lungs before he looked up at the four men and the elf, not even flinching when he saw the fair haired being's injuries. He had seen much worse in his time, and he _was _an elf, after all.   
  
"Girion's escaped," he finally gasped out. "We need to get to the castle to stop him, or all this will have been in vain. As long as he lives, he'll try to retake the city. We must kill him now, before he can rally his men or get out of the town."   
  
"Teonvan?" was all the ranger asked, a dark glint in his eyes.   
  
"Gone as well," Menvan answered just as curtly. "He and his lieutenants managed to break away from the main force and escaped with Girion and some of the councilmen while Girion's bodyguards covered their escape." He grimaced and something that may have been regret flittered over his face. "They fought well, just as I had known they would."   
  
Nobody needed to ask what had happened to the bodyguards, and Aragorn finally shook his head slightly, noticing that the pain in his shoulder was once again starting to distract him.   
"Where are my friend and Cendan? And Laenro?"   
  
Now it was most definitely regret that was visible on the brown haired man's face, and something like anger and disapproval quickly mixed with it.   
"They went to the dungeons," he replied tensely. "The lieutenant keeps his word. He will show them the way down there, even if it means that he has to let Teonvan escape." He shook his head. "The castle is not secure, far from it. The fighting has shifted there now, and they are only a small group. They'll get themselves killed for sure."   
  
He said more, but Aragorn hardly heard his words. He should have known Legolas would rush to the dungeons as quickly as he could; there was absolutely no way the elf would allow Celylith to stay there any longer than necessary. For a few moments his thoughts were in turmoil, but then he quickly turned back to Menvan, a determined expression on his face.   
  
"Take us to the castle," he ordered curtly. "We must buy them enough time to get to the dungeons and free Celylith and the girl. If we can find and stop Girion, fine, but we need to cover their backs and give them enough time to carry out their plan."   
  
Sero hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and turned to his two companions, giving them a few brief instructions. A moment later he turned back to the young ranger and gave him another nod, seriously wondering if he would see this reckless boy ever again.   
"Alright," he told Aragorn quickly. "I'll give you all the men I can spare. I need to get to the gates so we can barricade them just in case the dear lieutenant's kin don't keep their word. We'll do our best to keep the soldiers occupied and away from the castle."   
  
Menvan's eyes narrowed slightly and it appeared that he wanted to say something in defence of his lietenant's honour, but Aragorn cut him off quickly.   
"Thank you. Good luck to you and your men, Sero."   
  
"You'll need that, not me," the older man shook his head and motioned to the men he wanted to accompany him. "Do me a favour and look out for Laenro for me … and Ethoani, should you find her. Please."   
  
"Consider it done," Aragorn nodded and was already turning into the direction of the castle. Sero gave him a last nod before he and his men disappeared into the direction of the eastern gates, and the ranger turned to his elven friend while he nodded at Menvan to take point. "My friend, I think…"   
  
"If you think that I will remain here like a meek child while you go off to fight that madman, you are mistaken, Estel," Glorfindel shook his head darkly, ignoring the way his neck protested against the movement. "I will not let you out of my sight until we get home."   
  
"My lord…"   
  
"No, young one," the elf shook his head and began to follow Menvan and his men who were already hurrying into the direction of the castle. "Do not even _think _about saying it. I have a score to settle with Girion and his men; they will pay for laying hands on all of you. If I can't go and help the prince to find his friend, I will stay with you and make sure that you don't get yourself killed."   
  
Aragorn was about to argue, but then he saw the determined, steely sparkle in the elf's eyes and closed his mouth with a snap. He had neither the time nor the desire to fight with the blond elf about this now, and he knew that it would be futile anyway. Nothing but an order from the Valar themselves or maybe Elrond's reasonable voice would be able to sway the elf now, and since he was neither a Vala nor his elven father, he didn't even try to persuade him to stay behind.   
  
The man merely inclined his head at the golden haired elf and hurried to catch up with Menvan and Sero's men, inwardly praying to Ilúvatar to keep Legolas and the others safe, and be it only long enough so they could come to their aid.

  
  
Legolas was beginning to have trouble keeping up with Cendan, Laenro and the few men that were accompanying them, something that bothered him immensely. Oh, and he was beginning to doubt his sanity, but that was neither anything new nor as annoying as his inability to keep pace with mortals, _especially _when the mortals were Cendan and Laenro.   
  
The elf wrenched the sword he had … "borrowed" from one of Girion's fallen guards out of the body of another who had so foolishly refused to surrender and paused for a moment, trying to force his surroundings back into focus. After a couple of seconds he succeeded and pushed the pain that raged in his head to the back of his mind.   
  
It was his fault that he had been injured, of course. He had been so focused on keeping Aragorn safe earlier on the gallery that he had failed to keep some of his attention on what was happening behind him, and so Cendan's warning cry had reached him too late. Just after he had watched the ranger disappear under the scaffold a soldier had managed to break through the lines of Cendan's men behind him and had very nearly run him through.   
  
Legolas hadn't managed to jump to the side fast enough to avoid the man completely, and the human had managed to get a hold of him and to slam him head-first into the very solid back of Girion's chair. His attacker had quickly been shown how stupid it was to attack a wood-elf, be he distracted or not, but the entire episode had resulted in him having suffered a rather spectacular-looking head wound so that he now bore the close resemblance with someone who had just been dunked into a pot of red paint.   
  
The elf growled inwardly. That in itself wouldn't have been too bad, of course, at least not in his opinion – he was sure Aragorn and the rest of his friends would see it differently though. He had deserved it to some degree since he really should have paid more attention, and what was really bothering him was that the attack had made him drop his bow, which had of course fallen promptly over the railing. He truly didn't know why every other person seemed to want to separate him from his weapon, but this man had definitely succeeded, something that filled him with quite a lot of annoyance. The last thing he needed now was that someone hit him in the side and his day would be positively perfect.   
  
The blond elf took his thoughts off his beloved weapon and the question of whether or not he would ever find it again and returned to the present, just in time to throw himself down and to the side to avoid an arrow that would have hit him straight in the throat. Two of Cendan's bowmen whirled around and tried to locate this new threat, and a moment later the formerly hidden archer sailed through the air and made contact with the cobbled ground with a rather sickening thud.   
  
Legolas scrambled back to his feet and once again began to make his way over to the side entrance where the dark haired lieutenant and Laenro were already waiting, giving the much better guarded front doors a wide berth. Some minutes ago they had reached the courtyard which more or less resembled an anthill after someone had poked it repeatedly with a stick, a comparison that nearly caused the elf to start giggling. There were people running around everywhere, and no one seemed to have even the slightest idea what to do, which was of course exactly what they had been counting on from the beginning. It appeared that Cendan and his men had been rather successful in eliminating most of the higher-ranking officers, and, unbidden as that thought may have been, he was now rather glad that the dark haired lieutenant was willing to pursue his goals so ruthlessly.   
  
A moment later Legolas reached the door that was being held open by Cendan who seemed to be rather amused, even though he didn't show it openly in the face of the elf's obvious annoyance.   
"Are you having trouble keeping up with us, Master Elf?"   
  
The elf turned around to him, pushed a strand of blood-soaked hair out of his eyes and gave him a glare that made the man very glad that looks couldn't kill.   
"Not at all," he answered curtly, his fingers fingering his sword hilt in a faintly threatening manner. "Lead the way, Lieutenant. I'll be right behind you, trust me."   
  
"With pleasure," the dark haired man retorted emotionlessly, but an amused sparkle shone in his eyes which Legolas decided to ignore. "Just try not to get lost." He turned to Laenro who was beginning to look so impatient that it was a miracle he hadn't started tearing out chunks of his own hair. "That goes for you too. I promised you to take you to the dungeons, but I won't be chasing you through the castle. Teonvan has an appointment with my knives, and it would be most rude to keep him waiting, wouldn't it?"   
  
Cendan ignored the outraged expression on the elf's and the other man's face, turned and began to hurry down the corridor, past several wooden doors that seemed to lead to storage rooms of some sort. The man quickly divided his men into three groups and ordered one of them to stay behind and try to keep the guards off their backs as long as possible. The second was sent off further into the building to try and cause as much confusion as possible so that only the third remained, a rather small group of humans now that Legolas thought about it.   
  
The fair haired elf ignored the dark whispers and predictions of doom the more reasonable part of him insisted on running through his head and hurried his steps, rushing through the dark, depressing corridors as quickly as he could. The burning pain in his cut arm worsened, and Legolas sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar that it had been his left arm that had been injured and not his right. Now that he had lost his bow he had to rely on his sword arm – not that he bow would have done him much good anyway in these narrow corridors.   
  
These contemplations served to bring his thoughts back to Aragorn and Glorfindel, and he found himself desperately wishing that they were alright. He had lost sight of them after that one guard had had confused his head with an exercise device, and soon after that Cendan, Laenro and he had left and fought their way over to the castle. The lieutenant had pointed out that they needed to hurry if they wanted to free Celylith and Ethoani, something which both Legolas and Laenro were very well aware of. They both knew that there was the very real chance that someone would get the idea that it was more advantageous to Girion if his prisoners were killed rather than freed, and no matter what differences may stand between them, they were united in their determination that they wouldn't allow that to happen.   
  
Legolas clenched his teeth as he looked at the grey-faced Laenro next to him. He was sure that his face would have been the same colour if it hadn't been so covered with blood. The anxiety that had been residing in the pit of his stomach had developed into a full-blown panic, and he was hard-pressed not to let that feeling show, especially considering the way that dark memories were beginning to well up inside of him. Cendan would most likely enjoy it immensely if he lost it here and now.   
  
'Just wait until I get my hands on that stupid, reckless excuse for an elf,' the elven prince fumed in mock fury. 'I will teach him to stay in the palace when he's told to do so, Eru help me…'   
  
He had barely noticed that they had begun to climb down several sets of stairs, and he was still musing on what he would do to Celylith when they would finally reach the dungeons, when it was brought to his attention that they had in fact been there for quite some time. The were just rounding a corner, about to climb down some more stairs, when they came face to face with a group of rather startled guards who were apparently in the process of rushing up the stairs to aid their comrades.   
  
For a second, the two parties merely stared at each other, but the spell was quickly broken when Legolas reacted first and gave the guard standing at the front a kick, sending the man crashing backwards and down the stairs. The other men were rather slow to react, and so most of them were unable to step aside and were pulled down the stairs with him. Laenro, Cendan and the others quickly joined the fight, and a moment later the stairs were littered with the bodies of the dead guards.   
  
Legolas made sure that there weren't more soldiers lurking around the corner and leaned against the damp stone wall for a second, willing his head to stop spinning. He had tried to deny this as long as possible, but it was beginning to become apparent that his little knock to the head was more serious than he had first thought. He had enough experience with concussions to know when he was suffering from one, and for a split second he saw Elrohir's grinning face in his mind's eye, who appeared to be overjoyed that he wasn't the only one with this particular kind of injury.   
  
"Elf?" Laenro's voice ripped him out of his brief reverie. "Are you alright?"   
  
Legolas opened his eyes, looking at the young man who appeared rather unconcerned about whether or not he was alright. Laenro was most likely only concerned about him delaying all of them, and so Legolas quickly nodded his head which promptly very nearly exploded.   
"Yes, I'm fine. Let's go."   
  
Laenro didn't even nod back but merely turned around, his eyes darting over the bodies. It took the elf's pain-filled mind a moment to realise that the man was looking for Cendan, who was just standing to his feet and returning a bloody knife to its sheath.   
"The girl is down here and then to the left," he nodded down the stairs. He returned his gaze to the body of the man lying in front of him. "He died before he could tell me where the elf is, but I think he said something about Glamir. I'm not sure."   
  
Legolas was very surprised that his heart didn't actually freeze in his chest, and found himself nodding calmly. With a tremendous effort he pushed the fear and panic that threatened to overcome him at the lieutenant's words to the back of his mind, forcing himself to think logically. It wouldn't help anyone if he ran off and started searching every cell in the dungeons; it was far more reasonable to get the girl first and then search for Celylith.   
  
The elf ignored the part of him that wanted to throw reason and logic out of the window and nodded again, his face pale and devoid of all emotions.   
"Lead the way then. We'll find him, sooner or later."   
  
He didn't add that he would turn this entire castle upside-down until he had found his silver haired friend, not that he would have needed to. The expression on his face spoke of his determination not to leave before he had found the other elf, and this time not even Laenro said anything. Cendan nodded at one of his men to take point and a second later they were moving once again, rushing down the stairs with renewed urgency.   
  
It quickly became apparent why Cendan had picked this particular man to lead them, since he appeared to know exactly where he was going. He led them down the stairs and then down the left corridor. They reached another corner, but before they could catch up with their guide, the man had pressed himself to the wall and looked back at them with wide eyes. It immediately became apparent why the man had stopped so suddenly: Voices were beginning to float down the corridor, and a short burst of coarse laughter interrupted the eerie silence of the dark passageway.   
  
"… told them to be a bit more careful," one voice said, the grin its owner was surely wearing plain to hear. "It's rare to have one quite as pretty, and what do they do? Go and ruin everything!"   
  
A second voice snorted.   
"The captain was a bit overeager, yes. She won't make it long now; it's probably for the best, too, all things considered."   
  
"Just like that elf," the first voice agreed. "Gods, I will enjoy watching the two of them die! I have never met more annoying creatures, and I really find it hard to tell which one is worse."   
  
The second voice said something, but Legolas was too concentrated on not losing his temper to listen any further. Laenro seemed to have much the same problem, and the two of them only exchanged a quick look before gripping their swords more tightly and rushing around the corner. Cendan raised his eyes to the dark grey stone ceiling and once again asked himself just why he had agreed to lead the two of them down here; it was easier to keep track of a pair of five-year-old children. The sounds of fighting died down quickly, and the lieutenant gave his men the sign to follow the elf and Laenro with an annoyed gesture of his hand.   
  
He wasn't very surprised by what he saw when he rounded the corner and spared the two fallen guards not even a second glance. He had never liked the men who worked down here, most of them were far too much like Teonvan, at least in his opinion. When he reached the two of them, the elf was just slowly getting back to his feet, pulling his sword out of one of the guards' side. Laenro was still kneeling next to the other soldier, searching his clothing, before he finally shot back to his feet, a small ring of keys clutched tightly in his fist.   
  
The brown haired man turned to Cendan, an almost wild look in his eyes.   
"Which one?"   
  
The lieutenant needn't be told what the other man was talking about and merely nodded at one of the cell doors a bit further down the corridor.   
"Over there."   
  
Without another word Laenro whirled around and rushed down the corridor, skidding to a halt in front of the door Cendan had pointed at. In less time than anyone would have thought possible he had found the right key, had thrust it into the lock and turned it. A moment later the cell door swung open with an ominous, creaking sound that sent shivers down Legolas' spine, and one of the men stepped forward, bringing his torch closer to the now open door.   
  
It took the men and even Legolas some moments to adjust their eyes to the darkness of the small room, even despite the burning torch, but soon a heavy, grim silence fell over the small group. No one moved a muscle until Laenro finally took a step forward and walked into the cell as if in a trance, moving with the slowness of a man who was desperately hoping that what he was seeing was not real.   
  
Laenro stopped next to what Legolas had thought to be pile of rags on first glance, and which he would hardly have believed to be a human being if not for the pale hand that stuck out from the bundle at an odd angle. The man let his sword fall down next to him, paying the clattering sound it made when it connected with the stone floor no heed, and slowly sank to his knees, reaching out with one hand to turn the body in front of him around.   
  
Cendan gave the body in the cell only one look; the only outward reaction that was visible was a brief clenching of his jaw muscles. Then he turned back to his men, giving them a hard look that was not to be disobeyed.   
"Search this part of the dungeons. Get everyone who is in here up into the courtyard and then help the others. Menvan and his men should already be here, and if they are not, they will get here soon. I'll join you later."   
  
"But sir," one of them shook his head, his eyes darting unsubtly from Legolas to the other man in the cell, "What about you? We can't just…"   
  
"I'll be fine," Cendan said curtly. "Go. Now."   
  
Legolas heard the young lieutenant's words only dimly and he didn't truly notice the other men leaving, for he had followed Laenro into the cell, his keen eyes seeing far more than he wanted to see. Laenro had turned his sister's body over onto her back, and if Legolas' face hadn't already been so white, he would almost certainly have paled. He had seen the girl only a few times, but he seriously doubted that even people who had known her for most of her life would have recognised her in this condition.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that it wasn't only the young woman's one hand that was bent at an odd angle. Her other hand looked just the same, and Legolas knew without really looking more closely that the wrists were broken, and had been for some time. Most of her clothing was ripped and torn, and every bit of visible skin – and there was quite a lot of it – was either bruised or cut. Ethoani's face looked even worse if such a thing was even possible, her nose obviously broken and her mouth bloody and swollen and of an alarmingly blue colour.   
  
Legolas swallowed hard, feeling strangely numb inside. He had thought that Cendan had sent his men away because of the girl's barely decent state of dress, but now he realised that, if that had been one the lieutenant's reasons, it hadn't been the only one. Cendan had made sure that Laenro had some time alone with his sister to say good-bye, and Legolas couldn't honestly say that he disagreed. He had seen many people just before their souls left their bodies, and most of them had looked more lively than this girl.   
  
If Laenro was aware of that fact, he hid it well, but he was unable to hide the horror and fear on his face as he carefully pulled up his sister's broken body, peering intently into her bruised, apparently unconscious face.   
"Sister? Ethoani? Answer me! I need you to wake up now, little one, we need to get you out of here! Ethoani? Can you hear me?"   
  
Legolas' heart broke when he heard the hope in the brown haired man's voice, and slowly stepped closer, allowing himself to sink to his knees next to Laenro and his sister. Maybe he could help, a small voice inside his head whispered, perhaps what all his instincts were telling him was not true and there was still a way to save the girl... She had saved Aragorn, the twins and him, and he owed her a debt he would never be able to repay. She had got caught because of him after all; he should have stopped her from returning to the castle, just like Laenro had tried…   
  
The elf gave Laenro a quick look, asking for permission, and when the man ignored him and just kept whispering softly to his younger sister, he carefully reached out and began to examine the girl, the irrational hope in his heart dying bit by bit the more of her body was revealed. Laenro barely noticed that the elf was even in the same room and continued trying to rouse his sister, a task on which he was so focused that, at first, he didn't realise that he had succeeded. Whether she had heard her brother's voice or had somehow sensed his presence they would never know, but a few moments after Legolas had knelt down next to her Ethoani's eyelids opened slowly, her eyes staring straight ahead.   
  
It took Laenro a moment to realise that his sister was awake, but when he did a rather shaky smile spread over his face that looked more than a little bit fake and forced.   
"Thank the Gods!" the man breathed softly. "Stay awake, little one, we will get you to Thesieni as quickly as possible."   
  
The girl needed some time to get the face that was hovering over hers into focus, but she finally smiled as well, only faintly and with no real mirth or strength behind it.   
"You … should not … have … come."   
  
"Aye, I shouldn't have," Laenro agreed shakily. "But I did nonetheless."   
  
"Typical," Ethoani smiled weakly. "Stubborn…"   
  
"Yes, I am, and that is why I won't let you go back to sleep," Laenro nodded, his eyes bright and desperate. "You will be fine, you'll see. Just stay awake."   
  
His sister wanted to say something, but a sudden coughing fit caused her to double over, gasping for breath. Laenro held her as best as he could and looked at Legolas, his eyes fixed pleadingly on the elf's bowed head. Legolas sensed very well that the young man was looking at him, that he was searching for a bit of hope, and simply couldn't raise his head to tell him that there was none.   
  
He was no healer, but he had seen enough wounds like these to know that the girl would die, here and now and in agony. It hadn't taken him long to find the broken ribs, but they weren't even remotely as serious as the hard, rigid muscles of her abdomen. He timidly applied the tiniest bit of pressure on the girl's upper left abdomen which, even though she was so busy coughing, nearly caused her to jump off the ground with pain. Legolas ignored Laenro's murderous look and suppressed a tired sigh. He recognised internal injuries when he saw them, and judging by the way Ethoani's heartbeat was weakening by the minute, she had been suffering from them for some time now. He seriously doubted that even Lord Elrond or Hithrawyn would have been able to help her in this condition, when she was so far gone already. There was nothing they could do.   
  
Legolas finally took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Laenro's eyes with some reluctance. He didn't have to say anything or even shake his head, and only a few seconds later understanding spread over the man's face, causing the tentative smile on his lips to freeze. He stared at Legolas for a few moments, until Ethoani blindly grasped for her brother's hand despite the pain that movement must have caused her.   
"I didn't … tell them anything, I swear I … didn't…"   
  
"Shhh," Laenro soothed, gently taking her hand. "I know you didn't. It doesn't matter now, save your strength."   
  
"No," the girl shook her head stubbornly. "The elves … Girion's mustn't have them."   
  
"We already freed one of them and will find the other, too," the brown haired man said quietly. "Girion is falling, sister. The town is in an uproar and most of the soldiers are on our side. We will overthrow him this time, Ethoani. This time we will win."   
  
It took the dying girl some time to understand what her brother was saying, but finally a genuine, happy smile spread over her face.   
"Good," she whispered. She paused for a moment, regret appearing in her eyes. "I should have listened … to you, brother. I'm … sorry…"   
  
Laenro bowed his head and said nothing, obviously struggling not to lose control over his emotions, and so Legolas edged a bit closer and smiled at the young woman.   
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ethoani. You saved my friends and me as well. We are in your debt, and couldn't repay you in a thousand years."   
  
"I did what I had to do," Ethoani simply whispered, the blue colour on her lips intensifying.   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head earnestly, the sadness he felt visible in his eyes. This girl was barely more than a child, barely younger than Aragorn, and there was nothing he could do to stop her from passing from this world, nothing at all. "You did what you _chose _to do, and that took a lot of courage. I thank you, my lady. Thank you for saving our lives."   
  
Ethoani merely nodded tiredly, the lines that pain and fear had burrowed into her face slowly smoothing. Legolas had seen this too many times in the past not to know what it meant, and so had Laenro, it appeared.   
  
"No!" he exclaimed, tightening his grip on his sister. "You cannot die, sister! I promised our father and uncle to look after you; you can't leave me, not now that we are achieving all we ever dreamt of! Don't go, please, not now…"   
  
The young woman merely smiled, her body already beginning to relax as it began to accept the inevitable.   
"Laenro," she said softly, her eyes fixed on her brother who was crying openly now. "Laenro. Girion will die and … our home will be free, is this … not so?"   
  
"Yes," the man nodded through the tears that were streaming down his face. "Yes, I promise."   
  
"Then I am content," she whispered, the smile widening before a look of sadness flittered over her face. "I only wish that … Ciran could have seen it, he would have loved to…"   
  
Ethoani's words had dropped to a whisper and she finally fell silent in mid-sentence, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on her brother's face. For a few moments both Legolas and Laenro simply stared at the young woman before they realised what had just happened, and when the man did not move at all for what felt like at least several minutes, the elf reached out and gently closed the dead girl's eyes, grief and guilt warring in his heart. Her brother kept staring at her now relaxed face, and finally nodded, tears still running down his cheeks.   
  
"You are right, little sister. He would have."   
  
Legolas slowly got to his feet, the numbness that had been filling him torn asunder and his entire being filled with conflicting emotions. As much as he wanted to stay here longer, he knew that he couldn't. There was nothing he could to help Ethoani or her brother, but Celylith may very well still be alive. Now that he had seen what had happened to Laenro's sister, the fear in his heart had grown to incredible proportions, but he still couldn't find it in him to simply leave the young man.   
  
The elf stopped at the open cell door, trading a quick look with the stony-faced Cendan whose presence he had completely forgotten, and when he was just turning back to Laenro he saw that the man was gently placing his sister's body on the ground, treating her with such tenderness that Legolas' heart once more clenched inside his chest. The brown haired man slowly stood to his feet and picked up his sword, opening the brooch that secured the cloak at his neck and draping the heavy cloth over Ethoani's body. He remained where he was for some more moments, staring at the body of his sister, before he turned around to the door and began to walk out of the cell.   
  
"Wait!" Legolas said urgently when the man was passing them. "Where are you going?"   
  
For a few seconds it appeared as if the man wouldn't stop, but he finally did and turned to look at Cendan and the elven prince. Legolas wasn't sure if he had ever seen such a look in a mortal's eyes before; there was so much pain and hatred and grief in Laenro's gaze that the elf was simply rendered speechless. He didn't protest again when Laenro turned into the direction of the stairs they had used to get down here without uttering a word and began walking, the purposeful walk of a person who had only one goal left in his life.   
  
Not even Cendan said anything and merely shook his head, turning back to look at Legolas when Laenro had disappeared around the nearby corner.   
"Let him go," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "They were both fools. Only fools fight against such odds."   
  
"Oh?" Legolas arched an eyebrow, too tired and in too much pain to argue with the young lieutenant. "What does that make us then?"   
  
"Point taken, Master Elf," Cendan smiled thinly. "Point taken indeed." He gave the still body of the dead girl a last look before he turned around and motioned to the elf to follow him. "Come. I don't know if that guard spoke the truth, but I will take you to Glamir's chambers. From then on you're on your own, I have to…"   
  
"…kill Teonvan," Legolas finished the man's sentence as he forced himself not to touch his still lightly bleeding head wound in a vain attempt to ease the pain that pounded through his skull. "Yes. I know."   
  
Cendan ignored the elf's comment and began to lead him down the maze of corridors, and Legolas quickly lost his bearing just as he had lost them the first time he had been here. He was no dwarf, after all, and one dark corridor looked just like the next to him. They walked through dark, damp passageways that were only lit by few torches here and there for what felt like an eternity, but finally Cendan turned to Legolas before returning his eyes quickly to his surroundings, his gaze guarded and cautious.   
  
"We should be there soon," he informed the elf curtly. "There is a fork in this corridor a few yards ahead. The passageway to the right leads up to the main staircase. Just ignore it and follow this one until you reach a door to your left which…"   
  
"I know," Legolas interrupted the man curtly. "I'll recognise the door, trust me."   
  
"I see," Cendan said dispassionately. "Well, then I think I can leave you there and…"   
  
The lieutenant trailed off in the same moment he stopped as if rooted to the spot, and only Legolas' quick reflexes prevented a graceless collision. Knowing that there would be a good reason for Cendan's abrupt behaviour, the elf looked up quickly, inwardly deciding that he had to be hurt worse than he had thought; he should have been able to hear whatever had caused Cendan to stop a long time before him.   
  
Legolas raised his head and felt how his eyes grew wide and his hands automatically clutched his still drawn sword more tightly. He realised that they had reached the fork the man had spoken of, and to his surprise he recognised the spot. It was the place where Ethoani had led him and Aragorn only three days ago, something he would have noticed sooner hadn't he been so busy keeping up with his human guide. The tapestry that concealed the secret passage he remembered so well had been pushed to the side, and the wooden door behind it stood open, partly blocking the corridor.   
  
The elven prince felt how his mouth went dry, because, no matter how dark the memories were he associated with the long trek through the narrow passage that had been overshadowed by fear of recapture and worry for Aragorn, they didn't measure up to the sight in front of him.   
  
Cendan had had a very good reason to stop, indeed. Next to the open door stood Teonvan, one of his lieutenants and a contingent of guards, all of them looking at least as surprised as Legolas felt.

  
  
The courtyard reminded him of something, Aragorn thought dimly as he and the others entered it at a run. It looked almost like … like an anthill that someone had poked repeatedly with a stick, yes, that was it. A moment later he shook his head, inwardly asking himself from where he got these ridiculous ideas. He was reasonably certain that no one else would liken this courtyard to an anthill – at least nobody with his or her sanity intact.   
  
He didn't have enough time to dwell on this any further, since he had just enough time to twist to the side to escape a spear that was rudely being thrust into his direction. He had wondered how long it would take the remaining soldiers in the courtyard to realise that a new group of hostiles had arrived on the scene. Well, now he knew, he thought wryly. Not very long.   
  
The young man ignored the way his shoulder was protesting against the abrupt movements and brought his body fully around so that he was facing the man who had just tried to impale him on his spear. A moment later the guard fell to the ground, almost crushing his weapon which had been wrenched from his grasp a few moments earlier, and Aragorn quickly took the time to survey his surroundings.   
  
The courtyard was full of fighting people, and even though Laenro's and Cendan's men wore the red marks around their arms, he was hard-pressed to say which side was which, at least for a moment. It quickly became apparent that the men wearing the red strips of cloth were outnumbered by those who didn't, and Aragorn realised with a quick stab of fear and dread that went through his heart that even with the reinforcements Sero had sent with them, it would merely even the odds a little. They were still fewer in number than Girion's men.   
  
Menvan who had stopped next to him and Glorfindel seemed to come to the same conclusion, and Cendan's second-in-command narrowed his eyes, already beginning to direct his men to split up. He sent one part of his men to strengthen the main group close to the middle of the courtyard that was slowly being pushed backwards into the direction of the gates, mainly men wearing the black-grey livery of Girion's house and the red strip of cloth around their arms. The man took a step forward to avoid and strike down one of the soldiers that had managed to get past his men that were beginning to rush forward to aid their comrades, and turned around to Aragorn and the white-faced elf next to him when the ranger called his name.   
  
"Menvan!" Aragorn all but yelled, trying to make himself heard over the sounds of battle. "Where are the entrances to the dungeons?"   
  
The brown haired man wrenched his sword out of the body of the man he had just killed, realising with curious detachment that he had had a tankard of ale with him once, and used it to point into the direction of the main gates, and from there to the smaller door Legolas and the others had used.   
"There are two main entrances: One close to the great hall and Girion's audience chambers, and the other further to the right, over there." He nodded at the small group of Cendan's men who were still defending the smaller gates furiously. "It appears that they went that way."   
  
"What makes you say that?" Aragorn asked wryly, wincing slightly as another stab of pain went through his injured shoulder. "The dark cloud of doom hanging over the door or the horde of guards trying to break it down?"   
  
Menvan shot him a look cold enough to freeze a hot spring, and Aragorn suppressed a sheepish smile. He had forgotten that not everybody had the same tolerance as Legolas and his brothers for his way of dealing with stress.  
  
"Alright," he nodded thoughtfully. "We need to help your men to hold their positions. If the guards break through, they'll surprise Legolas and Cendan before they know what has happened."   
  
"We don't have enough men to do that and to prevent this group over there from outflanking us," Glorfindel pointed out calmly, his mind that had been schooled in more battled than he could count taking in the situation at a glance and analysing it in mere seconds. "Our men will be pushed back, right into their main group if we don't help them."   
  
"We need a diversion," Menvan nodded at the elf, taking his eyes off the sight in front of him only for a second. "Maybe we can draw enough of them away from the side entrance so all of our groups can hold their positions."   
  
"Yes," Aragorn nodded slowly and began to walk forward, beginning to increase his pace until he was almost running. He motioned to Glorfindel and the men to follow him with a curt gesture, his eyes fixed on the side entrance. "Come! We'll just have to persuade them to follow us over to the main gates."   
  
"Wait!" Menvan called, hurrying after him after giving the elf an accusing glare. He wasn't really at fault for anything here, but he appeared to know the ranger. He didn't have any proof, but he was sure that the elf was at least partly to blame for the man's reckless nature. "Just how are you going to 'persuade' them to 'follow' you to the main entrance?"   
  
"Oh, that's easy," Aragorn shrugged without turning around to the other man. "I'm going to make them angry."   
  
Menvan would almost have stopped and had to force himself not to grind his teeth, a habit that was beginning to get out of hand lately. He continued walking, gesturing his men to follow, and just barely heard the elf mumble something under his breath he couldn't understand. It didn't sound complimentary though, and judging by the way the ranger's shoulders stiffened slightly, Menvan was rather sure that it had been a particularly dark threat. He didn't have time to dwell on the subject any longer, because they reached the side entrance only a few moments later.   
  
Before Menvan even knew what was happening, he was in the midst of the fighting, and he quickly realised that they really needed to draw a part of the guards away, or all of his men would be killed. Their lines were beginning to crumble slowly but surely, and he knew that it was only the respect and loyalty they held for Cendan that enabled them to keep fighting. Another thing he realised was that the ranger was either incredibly lucky or incredibly insane.   
  
Most likely both, he thought to himself, side-stepping the falling body of a guard who had just made the mistake to underestimate one of his men. He was sure that without the blond elf's assistance, who was staying as firmly at the young man's left side as if someone had glued him there, he would have been killed right in the beginning. The dark haired man was constantly darting forward and back again, engaging as many men as he could, but never staying in one spot long enough to actually fight them properly.   
  
Menvan shook his head inwardly as he saw that the elf mimicked the young man's actions, and soon mounting frustration could be seen on the men's faces. As unhappy as he was to admit something like this, but it appeared that the ranger's plan was working. A sizable part of the men was clearly beginning to get quite annoyed, in fact so annoyed that Menvan and the others were pushed back after a few more minutes, into the direction of the main doors. After a few dozen steps Menvan was beginning to think that the ranger might not be quite as suicidal as he had thought, and he dispatched his latest adversary and used the brief respite to cast a look behind him. His eyes widened as he saw that they had nearly been pushed back to the doors, and called out a warning just in time so that the men at his back could turn around and engage the men who were guarding the main gates.   
  
Wonderful, Cendan's second-in-command ranted inwardly, this was just wonderful. Now they were trapped between two groups of enemies – two groups of _angry _enemies – that wanted to do nothing but cut them into little pieces. A sharp blow he barely managed to block nearly sent him to his knees and brought him back to reality, and Menvan suppressed a hiss when he felt his opponent's knife cut through his shirt and skin and draw blood. He threw himself into the fight with renewed fierceness, and a few moments later he turned to the dark haired ranger who was right now in the process of being pushed back against the wall at his back.   
  
"Well done, ranger!" he called, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "You wanted to make them angry? They're angry!!"   
  
Aragorn didn't have time or enough breath left to answer, and barely managed to duck under a blow that would nearly have taken his head off. He managed to twist to the side to avoid the next blow, but before he could bring up his sword to fend off his opponent's next attack, the man's eyes suddenly grew wide and he fell to the floor without another sound. He blinked and looked up, straight into Glorfindel's bruised face that looked remarkably amused.   
  
"The human has a point, _pen-neth_," he told the ranger breathlessly. "They _are _angry."   
  
Aragorn didn't answer but merely thrust his sword forward, missing Glorfindel's chest by inches and impaling a man who had come up behind the elf and was just about to bring down his sword onto the distracted elf's back.   
  
"Indeed," the man grinned slightly while they were pushed back through the main gates and into the entrance hall. "And I wonder why."   
  
"It's a family trait," Glorfindel provided, his eyes darkening with pain while he did his best to ignore his left, very broken collarbone as he tried not to let himself be cut to pieces by a pair of very determined guards. "Elrond, the twins, and you … you are all the same. No one can infuriate people as quickly as the four of you."   
  
Aragorn would have loudly protested against such an outrageous accusation, but right now he was rather busy fending off a very big and obviously _very _angry guard. While he was avoiding the man's axe, his eyes swept over their surroundings, and with a small pang of surprise he realised that they were already rather deep in the castle. He had just managed to eliminate his latest opponent as they reached the end of the corridor they were currently fighting in, and for a second the ranger feared that they had been pushed into a dead end and were trapped now. A moment later he saw that there was a door to their right which burst open now, soldiers streaming out of it. For a second Aragorn saw Girion at the back of the room before he disappeared through another door, and a small sigh escaped his lips. As much as he wanted to stop this madman, it was just their kind of luck to run straight into him and the rest of his bodyguards when they were already outnumbered, wasn't it?   
  
Menvan had apparently seen the other man as well, for a dark, dangerous sparkle appeared in his eyes and he attacked the newly arrived guards with wild ferocity, trying to force his way through their lines to pursue him. The numbers of the soldiers who were still fighting them in the narrow corridor shrank slowly, and Aragorn was just thinking that they were really going to make it and was beginning to look around for Glorfindel from whom he had been separated in this last attack, when another soldier stepped in front of him. The other man's figure seemed to literally block out the light the flickering torches cast over the chaotic scene, and it took Aragorn's eyes a disconcertingly long time until they had travelled up the man's massive chest to his face.   
  
Aragorn groaned inwardly and felt how his wounds were beginning to ache anew at the mere sight of the other man. It was Caellan, Teonvan's large, brutal lieutenant, who had surely some troll-blood in him, that was something Aragorn had concluded a long time ago. The tall, burly man grinned at him, the grin of a cat that had just cornered a mouse, but there was a dark, furious sparkle in his eyes that wasn't completely hidden by his obvious enjoyment of the situation.   
  
The young ranger groaned again, this time out loud, and gripped his blood-stained sword more tightly, trying to push the exhaustion and pain he was feeling to the side. He had really managed to get most of the men angry, hadn't he?   
  
"Well, well, well," the other man said and slowly came closer, causing Aragorn to back away, into the direction of the corridor's end and away from the main fighting. "If that's not the little ranger who disappeared so suddenly. You and I have unfinished business, boy."   
  
"We do?" Aragorn inquired and arched an eyebrow, his eyes not leaving the other man's face.   
  
"Oh yes," Caellan grinned somewhat stupidly, something that did not lessen the malice and hatred in his eyes. "The captain had promised us some fun with you after the elf had talked. We never got round to doing anything, did we?"   
  
Aragorn suppressed a shudder and tried not to think of the "fun" Teonvan had had with him the last time he'd seen him.   
"Teonvan is a coward and a liar; you of all people should know that, Caellan."   
  
"And you, ranger, are a dead man," the larger man hissed at him, brandishing his sword in a threatening manner. Not that there was an unthreatening manner in which one could brandish one's sword, a part of Aragorn's mind provided wryly. Caellan took a step closer to the younger man, a grin beginning to spread over his face. "But before I kill you, I think I'll have some fun after all."   
  
"Then, by all means," Aragorn answered softly, grey eyes boring into his opponent, "Come and try to get me."   
  
"You read my mind, boy," the other man grinned, displaying a rather fragmentary set of teeth. "I am planning to do just that."   
  
Before Aragorn could even think of a reply, the large man had lunged at him, and all the young ranger could do to avoid being impaled on the man's sword was jump to the side, hitting the wall in the process – hard. For a few moments, Aragorn's vision clouded over with pain as his body impacted with the stone wall, his old injuries and the fresh shoulder wound shrieking with pain, and he just barely managed to stagger to the side to avoid the next attack that came so quickly that Aragorn nearly did not seen it coming.   
  
With an effort, he finally pushed the pain to the side as best as he could and concentrated on not getting cut to pieces, and while he was parrying the larger man's blows as best as he could, Aragorn smiled wryly even despite his pain and exhaustion.   
  
If there was one thing he could do really well, it was making people angry, that much was certain.  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**  
  
  
  
  
  
_mellon nín - my friend  
pen-neth - young one  
  
  
  
  
_** I won't even try to convince you that I'm sorry. You won't believe me anyway... g It's not really my fault, you know. There is my evil alter ego to consider, after all, and Jack is not really all that innocent either. She made me do it, since Ethoani was the character I wrote for her, kind of at least. I didn't really have a choice. g So, the rest of this interesting little fight scene will be here soon, I promise I'll try to update sooner than Thursday. I'm aiming for Tuesday, but it will depend on how much work I'll get done during the weekend. I'll try my best though, I promise. Reviews might help, as you probably know by now. g So: Review? Yes please!**

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Additional A/N:  
  
Deana**- sheepishly Yeah, well, and chapter 32 as well now, I'm afraid... It's not my fault. Really. It's not. That's what I try to tell me all the time, that is. g And "=" works as well? Hmm, that's good to know, but I think "/" is still the best replacement for my stars. I still miss them. sighs sadly  
**Red Tigress **- g Yes, I knew that. I was just kidding. So you're looking forward to the chaos, huh? It's come to my attention that quite a few of you people have expressed that particular sentiment. You're beginning to scare me. I'm serious. g  
**CSI3 **- You don't have to feel "honoured" or anything of the like! It's just a way to repay you guys for your faithful and wonderful reviews; it's the least I can do. I love every bit of feedback I get. g Hmm, I see, but I have to tell you that I'm not really frightened of your pet balrog. I have one of my own, you know, Stan's his name. He's rather sweet and has been with me since ... hmm, Winter 01/02, I think. Wow, it's been really that long... g Well, time flies when you're having fun.   
**Ellyrianna **- huggles Thanks for the star! It's not really bothering me that much anymore; I've got used to it - mostly. Sometimes I still suffer from uncontrollable bouts of screaming, but I'll get over it eventually, I guess... g Legolas IS an idiot, yes, I'm the first to agree with you on that. It's also nice to know that you like Cendan so much - I like him quite a lot myself. huggles Cendan He's adorable, in an evil sort of way. g I can't promise you that Teonvan will be killed by Legolas; in fact, I can tell you now that he won't. Sorry about that, but we had that in AEFAE and also in THOM, more or less, anyway. Can't get repetitive, can I?   
**Jazmin3 Firewing **- winces Wow, I'd better not be here when you've read THIS chapter - if you're reacting like that after ch. 30, I'd hate to see what you're going to be like after this one... I'm saddened by the news that you will kill my alter ego the next time I need to hide for some time, but now that I think about it, it might be quite a nice way to finally get rid of her. evil grin I'll have to think about that. Just take a deep breath and repeat after me: It's only a story. g  
**AngelMouse5 **- hangs head It's not use denying it, huh? I have to admit I have been planning this scene for some time. There are a few scenes I've always wanted to put into one of my stories, and this was one of them. Another is one of the last scenes in ch. 32, you'll see what I mean, I think. g   
**Sirithiliel **- Yes, I'm very happy. huggles Thanks! Five stars, that's enough to keep me happy for several minutes. g At least. Great you liked the chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy the last two as well!  
**LOTRFaith **- Yup, I totally understand your friend. I just HATE spiders, I can't even tell you why. I think it's because they have too many legs. They can move too fast, and they have a way of ... "feeling" with their legs before they move that just freaks me out. shudders Horrible little things. And yes, this is ch. 31. It's terrible, I know. I never wanted to have a story longer than 30 chapters, but alas, it seems that the characters just won't learn how to shut up. Ah well, could be worse...  
**Someone Reading **- Uhm, yes, that's what I call a little cliffy. The one in this chapter is quite a big one though, I'll admit that. g I'm glad you liked the twins and their birthday-problem, I think that's something that can just happend when you're worried out of your mind and need something you can distract yourself with. It's something that would happen to me if I was in that kind of situation - which I wouldn't survive for more than a few seconds, but that's another story... g  
**Firnsarnien **- I don't understand why you don't like orcs. I think they're ... interesting. Yes, they might be evil, but that's only a small triviality if you ask me. g LOL, you could indeed say that Fëanor was a bad elf. I mean, he started the Kinslaying and all that, so yes, I guess he wasn't really your epitome of kindness. g LOL again, Girion is what? A twisted sick puppy? I have to admit that that's one of the most interesting descriptions I've ever heard. Hmm, Celylith is indeed in the dungeons, that's all I can tell you. I'm evil, I know. g  
**Katie **- I completely understand. It happens to me all the time as well, and when I write I review, I always copy it before I try to post it. FF.net has deleted more than one of my reviews as well. grrr Evil site from Hell. Hmm, to be honest I have never really considered writing an "early days" story about Celylith and Legolas. It would depend on how early, I guess. I am not very good at writing children, so it would have to be after them reaching their majority I guess. shrugs I might write a little one someday, if I can find the time. g LOL, so my story meanders around? I'll try to take that as a compliment... g Don't worry, you're not behind schedule or anything. I'm sure you'll encounter an evil megolomania bent on conquering/destroying all of the world soon enough. g I am indeed thinking about writing another story, and I am sure there will be quite a lot of villains just lining up near Rivendell. g Elrond will be so happy about that, won't he? Oh, and you just might be right about Celylith's shoulder. evil grin Poor elf. Well, thanks a lot for the great review, I'm glad you liked the story so far!**  
Falling Star **- Well, thank you. It's nice to know that you liked the chapter, even though you don't have words to decribe what you think. g I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this insane little tale as well!  
**SeventhSpanishAngel **- I liked the cliffy, actually. I also like the cliffies in this chapter. But then again, I love ALL cliffies, as long as I don't have to read them. g Thanks so much for saying that you like the chapter titles. I literally spend days thinking of something that will describe each chapter. Sometimes it's really easy, but sometimes it really takes me ages. shrugs I'm a little obssessed with them, I guess. The end will take a bit longer now, I'm sorry. It wasn't what I had planned.  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel **- Yup, he's insane. Really, did it take you so long to figure that out? g And you're insane too, really. I mean, Glorfindel's neck is in considerably more danger than Legolas' now. You were reading the chapter at school? Shame on you! g Then again, I do it sometimes as well, soI shouldn't complain...  
**Strider's Girl **- Yeah, well, all good things must come to an end. I'm actually rather glad that it will end soon, because ... well, the story isn't really beginning to annoy me, I'm just getting a bit tired of it. I just want to wrap it up and be done with it. Well, only one more chapter to write, so that should be doable. g I really appreciate all your kind words, and thanks a lot for taking the time to review! I hope your GCSEs are going well! I'm sure they are. nods  
**Dragonchic1 **- Thank you on both accounts! It's very nice that you decided to drop me a line, and just as nice that you want to add me to your favourites! Thanks!   
**Crippled Raven **- Well, my friend, that's the POINT, isn't it? To stop at an evil place? Otherwise it wouldn't be a real cliffy, and you know how I love them. g Maybe you're right, I just might be a little control freak. thinks Actually, I don't think I am, but that's beside the point. LOL, great you loved that line so much. It was actually kind of late when I wrote that part, I think about 1 am. or something, so I guess I was in a rather strange mood. You'll have to wait a bit longer to find out who'll kill who, though, sorry. It just got too long. shrugs Second set sounds like fun. I would have loved it, but we had this horrible Maths teacher whose main characteristic was cynicism. Strangely enough, I got even worse when we got another teacher who was actually quite nice. shrugs I still blame the probability calculations. I hated them. I'm sure you'll do well in Maths, though. Don't aske me how I know that, I'm psychic, I think. g LOL, you're right: FF.net IS out there to get me. Figures, it's just my kind of luck. g  
**Elvendancer **- Sure, blame me. They all blame me, but in the end they just do it so that they don't have to admit that they were insane to begin with. g I hate all you people, btw. School's out? I have two more months to go... sighs hopelessly Well, I guess that's not your fault. I think.  
**Bailey **- Uhm, well, yes, I think it was. Evil, that is. I love being evil, which would explain it. g You're right of course. The twins don't need to worry - we love Aragorn and Legolas too much to kill them. Then again, hurting them intensely is an entirely different thing... evil grin You hope everything will go according to plan? pitiful smile You keep hoping that, mate. Who knows, it might even help. thinks No. It actually won't, but still. g  
**Aratfeniel **- You're not the only one who loves chaos. A couple of other people expressed the same sentiments, in fact. looks at her suspiciously You people are beginning to scare me. Great you're not too upset about the cliffy - let's see how you deal with this one! Mhahahaah! runs off cackling madly I like your song btw. It's nice and cheery. g  
**Alariel **- nods I want my stars back too. But it appears FF.net doesn't like them overly much... grrr Hmm, what was the silly elf thinking? The answer it: He's not thinking. That's his problem, he doesn't THINK! almost chokes I wrote it in a more reasonable way, huh? Well - just you wait. I haven't even begun yet. g LOL, yes, something bad is going to happen to the two of them yet, but I think we all knew that. It happens all the time, after all. g  
**Pyro **- Of course it was fair! I can't really tell you why or in what way, but I'm sure it was fair! It might also have been evil, but that's another story... g No, I haven't done a "how they met" story. I don't really know if I want to write one. Right now I don't, but that might change. shrugs We'll see. Thank you very much for taking the time to review!  
**Iccle Fairy **- shakes head You too? A disconcertingly large percentage of you guys loves chaos and mayhem. I would like to say that it surprises me, but... g LOL, yes, Legolas' plans ARE quite terrible. That's why Aragorn doesn't like them. Then again, his aren't much better either, are they... g You're living in a "majorly mental and crazed and deranged etc. world"? Well, it DOES sound like fun - kind of. g   
**CrazyLOTRfan **- Yeah, the poor twins. Their little brother and friend are walking into almost certain doom AND they don't have honey-cakes! Poor them. g And you're right of course. Estel will need all the Valar's protection if he wants to reach his 23rd birtday... g So you liked Legolas' speech? Well, at least someone did; neither Girion nor Teonvan were really all that fond of it. I don't know why either. g LOL, Canada's PM is an evil dictator? I admit I didn't know that - but wait, he just decided to have reeletions, didn't he? I think I read it somewhere a few days ago. No need to overthrow him then... g Great to hear that you enjoyed the cliffy, there are a few more in this chapter. I think two. Might be more though. shrugs I lost count.   
**Snow-Glory **- LOL, yes, Cendan does have some fighting to do at the moment. You may huggle him later - if he survives all this, that is. evil grin Hmm, let me think. The main reason that Lord Súliat's delegates were in this story was indeed to make Girion angry. Oh yes, and to give a little political side story. And a few other reasons, I think, I just can't remember them now. They'll make an appearance in the end, don't worry. Your English teacher really did that? That really sounds ... interesting. Rather frightening, but interesting nonetheless. g There will probably be another story after this one, but not for some time I'm afraid. I need a break.  
**Smile Neumann **- Ah, don't worry about the stars. I'm actually getting used to it. LOL, no, this was not all of Legolas' plan. You're right, if it were, I wouldn't allow him to make any more plans either. g Everybody could have made a better plan. Even Teonvan. No, not him now that I think about it. But everyone else. g Just give him some time. He might surprise you yet. Might being the main word here, of course. evil grin  
**Tychen **- No, things never go quite according to plan. It's a curse, that's what it is. g Hmm, your feeling might be correct - or it might not. I know, that's an evil thing to say, but I really can't tell you. So you have a broadband connection now? I couldn't live without mine! huggles her ADSL modem I love it! I would die if I had to use ISDN or a gulps "normal" modem! g Don't tell me, I need to get a new hobby. I hope you'll have loads of fun on holiday! I'm sure you will.  
**Grumpy **- Well, the Lay of Leithian isn't exactly something I would read to my child. It really might start giving someone the wrong ideas. shrugs I bet Elrond read it to the twins as well, so it's his fault. g Great to hear that you liked the chapter, thanks a lot for all your reviews!  
**Narina Nightfall **- huggles Great to see that you're back. I missed you - but I hope you had fun in the void, wherever it may be. g LOL, you would steal Legolas out of the dungeons? You know, I actually believe you. That's scary. I've always had trouble making these sandwiches myself. The worst thing is that I don't even like them, and always had to make them for someone else. sighs Poor me. And poor Ethoani too, of course. They're all rather sad at the moment. g Oh, and I never gave you or anyone else any guarantee that Celylith would survive. He's an OC, and not needed for LOTR, so, essentially, he's fair game. g Great to hear that you like Oswald Spalding. I like him too, he's simply adorable! I have th bad feeling though that he doesn't talk, so he can't embarass Legolas or anyone else. Uhm, yes, I used the word bovine? Why? Is it wrong or something? anxiously I hope not. Hmm, Súliat. Let me make that clear once and for all: Súliat is Saruman. There. I said it. I don't think I will write a story about him anytime soon. Sorry about the word, but I REALLY can't tell you. Glorfy - I mean Glorfindel of course, sorry - would kill me. He really would, and Erestor as well. Sorry. Hmm, I guess you're right about eternal life, but only when you think of something like Highlander. If you're an elf, you won't necessarily associate so much with other races. Your family and friends will be elves as well, and therefore don't die. Even if they do, you know that they will eventually be released from the Halls of Mandos and you'll see them again in Valinor. So, it's not really that bad if you ask me. g  
**Alison H **- You know, when I got your review, Jack (who was visiting) and I just looked at each other and said: "She printed ALL the stories??" I mean, Wow! You really did that? Please, tell me what kind of printer you have! Mine would have given up after page 1200. g It's great to see you de-lurking! huggles Thanks! You really are a twin? Wow, that's ... well, great! You know I was really afraid to read on for a few moments, but now I'm very glad that you approve of the way I write the twins. I was rather nervous that you'd tell me something like "Get real, girl. It's not like that at all!" g Hmm, I would actually take the chocolate buttons. Skittles are the most perfect sweets ever invented, but chocolate is a close second if you ask me. Thank you so much for all your kind words, and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as well!  
**Chip **- takes box Thanks! I love stars! LOL, you want to pet Celylith and Glorfindel? Well, I guess as soon as they're free and more or less patched back together, you can pet them, if you promise not to break them, that is. g Thanks a lot for taking the time to review! I'm glad you liked it so far!  
**Celebdil-galad Tinlaure **- Well, I guess it's because I'm evil. It helps most of the time. g Celylith ... hmm, yes, I guess he's in the dungeons at the moment. LOL, yes, I understand your desire to put out Glamir's "eyeses". Nice idea, really. g Hmm, your next prediction isn't too bad either. Not entirely true, of course, but very close if you ask me. g How can you join the CLF? Well, I have no idea actually. I think you just have to .. do it. I don't know. Ask Firsarnien, I think she's a kind of chairman or something. Oh, and I understand the spider thing. I HATE them, I really do. It's silly, but I can't help myself. I don't have anything against snakes though. g Hmm, about Stacee: I would be more than willing to help, of course, I mean, I know her, after all. The only thing is that I don't think it would work that way. I mean, no matter how much you told me about the story, I still couldn't really begin to understand the characters and what was really going on. Besides, it wouldn't be HER story anymore, if you know what I mean. I don't really think I can actually explain this, but I just don't think that it would work. Writing summaries or beta-reading for someone is one thing, but to actually write a part of the story if you're not the co-author... I don't really think so. If you really want me to, I could try to come up with something. I just think it wouldn't really fit the rest of the story, but hey, that's just me. g  
**Marbienl **- Well, trust me, I hadn't heard about it either. I knew about the rebellion and Count Alba and all that, but no details. Now I know more about Spínola and Oldenbarneveldt and Prince Maurits and the VOC and the WIC and all that than I ever wanted to. I even know where Ostende and Breda and all the other nice towns are. g A biography won't really help me much, I fear. If you have something about the Dutch expansion in the East though I'll love you forever. g No, Legolas would most likely not appreciate it if I shaved his head. He has no sense of humour, really. shakes head I don't think that Glorfindel would be ashamed of dying or anything like that, I just don't think that he would willingly talk about it. It's just that I don't think that it's something he would discuss with the broad public, if you understand what I mean. Nope, you're not evil. Keep telling yourself that. g I think Aragorn has forgotten about his birthday, actually. I'm rather sure that Legolas will remember though. Hmm, I think the twins would be celebrating their birthdays, even though most likely not in the way we do. Oh, and don't even try it! I won't decide on a date for Legolas' birthday. No one knows how old he is, so I won't just invent a date. g Thanks a lot for the huge review - as always!  
**Cosmic Castaway **- Oh yes, firewalls can be tricky. I have one myself, which works fine though. At the moment. g ducks knife Well, thank you! It's nice to hear that you like it so far! Thanks for the review!  
**Karone Evertree **- Your weekend sounds busy indeed. I hope it's a bit more relaxed now. g And I know exactly what you mean. Before I got my own computer and put up a network, I had to fight with my siblings for the right to use the internet all the time as well. shudders It was horrible. g  
**Bookworm, .303 **- Uhm, yes, I guess you could say that: They're all silly elves and rangers. g Very silly in fact - and stupid, reckless, slightly suicidal, impertinent... Should I go on? g No, I don't think I need to. You knew all that from the beginning, hm? g  
**Linuvial Greenleaf **- blushes Don't say that ... really ... ah, what the heck! Thank you! It's very nice of you to say something like that - it will give me delusions of grandeur one day, but it's nice to hear nonetheless. g I'm glad to hear that your cat is okay. I love cats. Younger brothers, on the other hand... g Thanks for the review! It's very nice to see that you're still enjoying this!  
**Jera **- I'm sorry to hear about the jeep. I mean, not the jeep per se, but the fact that you were stuck in a village. I just hope you weren't bitten by a venomous snake or something like that. g That's a nice theory about the owners of FF.net. They would have to be especially sadistic copyright owners though. g LOL, yes, they might start fighting each other for the right to kill Teonvan. I'm not sure if that's scary or just insane. And I know what you mean. I can tell you almost exactly where every little town is in ME (and patly even in Valinor, Númenor and Beleriand), but I have no idea how many states Germany has. Could be 16. Or 17, I just don't know, and I could even begin to tell you where the majority of the cities is. sheepishly That's rather pathetic. LOL, it's one of my pet theories too, that Glorfindel annoyed Mandos and all the other inhabitants of his halls so much that he was kicked out in the end. g I think I can tell you that yes, Sangwar and Halyo will be just fine, don't worry. They'll get out of this alive, even though I don't think their lord will be overly pleased. Hmm, I don't think we have a Glorfindel POV scene this chapter, sorry. It would have been nice, you're right, but it's already too long as it is. There might be one in ch. 32 though. Once again, thanks for all your reviews!!**  
Crystal-Rose15 **- blinks Well - congratulations. I'm sure you and the DVD will be very happy together. g I don't think I wil buy it right away. I hate to say it, but I didn't like the movie all that much. I guess I'll buy it eventually (I'm far too obsessed not to), but I think I can live without it for a while. So you're on summer vacation, huh? I hate you. I have two more months to go. grrr Don't worry about your computer though. Mine eats things all the time as well. I think they all do. g No one knows how old Legolas really is, and I don't believe PJ's version. I've always thought him younger than the twins, about Arwen's age. But that's just my idea. And no, I haven't read that. Is it good? I think I read a review once. I just can't remember if it was good or bad. g  
**Kathleen LaCorneille **- Wow, you typed all that in twenty seconds? Not bad... g Thanks for taking the time to review if you had only twenty seconds left, it's great to hear that you stilllike it! huggles   
  
**Once again, I'm sorry for dividing this into two chapters. There was really no other way. Ah well, what's done is done. ****Thanks for all the reviews!**


	32. Matters of Honour

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:**

**Okay, so I admit it wasn't Tuesday. But Wednesday is still better than Thursday, isn't it? nods to herself and ignores readers' outraged looks I am sorry, really, but this weekend was rather chaotic. And my mother had a car accident today, which didn't really make things easier around here. Nothing happened to her, fortunately, but the car is beyond aid, I fear. grimaces I really liked that car.**

**Alright, that most likely doesn't really interest you. What seemed to interest quite a few people though was the question whether or not I am planning to write another story. So, I can announce that yes, I am indeed planning to write another story - but not for some time, I am afraid. dark growling sounds from the audience Well, I am sorry about that, but I really don't have the time right now. But yes, I will write a sequel to this story (which will be the sequel to the sequel to the sequel of the story now that I think about it g), and I am also planning yet another little birthday story, this time for Marbienl, which will most likely include Aragorn, Legolas, the Rivendell elves and some hill trolls. Don't ask me to tell you more, because I have absolutely no idea myself. g **

**And now for something completely different... Ah yes, Ethoani. As I said, I am sorry about it, but she ... well ... I mean ... it's Jack's fault. Take it up with her. grins at irate Jack It's also nice to know that so many of you are so worried about Celylith. I am sure that he would appreciate it - if he were capable of something like that at the moment... evil grin No, guys, really: Do you honestly think that I would harm him and risk the wrath of the great and mighty CLF? readers think about it and nod after a second Ah well, you might be right...**

  
  
**Well, we'll see about that, won't we, since Legolas has a little talk with Glamir in this chapter. Yay! Other than that, we also see Girion and Teonvan again, and even Sangwar and Halyo. Oh, and the bad guys are dropping like flies. shakes head Poor them. Well, not really. g**

**Have fun and review, please!**

* * *

  
  
  
Chapter 32  
  
  
For a few moments, the two groups were too stunned to react and simply stared at each other. Legolas was too surprised to even move a single muscle, and his thoughts that were going round and round in his head did nothing to alleviate his headache in the slightest.

Varda Elentári, what was Teonvan doing here? He had expected to run into about every man in this castle – every man but Teonvan, that was. Then again, he thought darkly, he shouldn't be so surprised. It wasn't like Teonvan at all to stay at Girion's side and let himself be slaughtered by a horde of angry renegade soldiers or incensed townspeople. If there was any way out of this situation, Teonvan would find it and use it so quickly that the only thing one would see of him would be the edge of his cloak.

Of course, Legolas thought, his eyes wandering over the small group of stunned people in front of him. Teonvan wanted to take his guards and lieutenant and use the tunnel leading under the castle to the shop in the city, that much was clear. The elf narrowed his eyes, tearing himself out of his short paralysis. Well, they would see about that, wouldn't they?

Next to him, Cendan seemed to return to the present as well, and for a brief moment he and the elven prince looked at each other. A second later Cendan jumped to the left and Legolas to the right, just in time to avoid a couple of crossbow bolts that cut through the air where they had been only moments ago. Legolas impacted with the stone wall hard, the impact momentarily stunning him, but he quickly shook off the pain as best as he could, telling himself insistently that now was not the time to give in to the urge to simply slide down the wall and remain on the floor.

With an inward curse the elf gripped his sword more tightly and sprang forward, moving quickly in order not to collide with Cendan who was just pushing himself off the wall as well. He quickly closed the distance between himself and the men who were in the process of drawing their swords and blocked the first swing that had been aimed at his head, and before the men really knew what was happening, he had moved past them and had aimed a rather fierce kick at the open door leading to the dark passage. The door closed with a loud bang and Legolas grinned, whirling around and placing himself in front of the threshold. If Teonvan and his friends wanted to get out of here, they'd have to go right through him.

The men didn't appear too averse to trying just that, and half a second later all the men stormed forward into the direction of the fair haired elf. They were no fools (at least most of them weren't), and they very well realised that their only way out of the castle was through that tunnel. If they didn't want to get killed by their former colleagues and the people of this city, they would have to get out of here – very, very soon.

Even under normal circumstances Legolas would have found it hard to fend off so many opponents at once, especially with the door only inches from his back, and current circumstances were anything but normal. His head was doing a rather fair impression of a suddenly imploding rock, and he was quite sure that if he didn't sit down and rest soon, it would start rotating around his neck in random patterns. The cut he had received earlier was beginning to give him serious trouble, and he was almost sure that the side wound Teonvan had given him so many days ago had opened again.

That thought served to cause burning fury to well up inside of him, and Legolas pushed the blade of one of the men aside with all his strength and kicked out with his left leg, hitting the man who had just attacked him in the side. The guard flew backwards, taking one of his comrades with him who didn't manage to get out of the way quickly enough and giving Legolas a short reprieve. By the Valar, the elf thought angrily, he didn't care if these people killed him or not, he would _not _allow them to escape, he wouldn't allow _Teonvan _to escape! He would make sure that that … man paid for what he had done to Aragorn and him. Yes, he nodded inwardly, he would kill him and then go and find Celylith. That sounded like a very good plan.

The guards who had stumbled backwards a few seconds ago began to close in on him again, but before they could completely surround him, an already familiar black-hilted knife burrowed itself in one of the men's throat. A moment later its owner joined the fray, and Legolas gave Cendan a breathless nod as he defended himself against the remaining guards, which the man either didn't see or ignored. The lieutenant appeared to be relatively unharmed except for a smaller cut on his right forearm, and Legolas suspected that not even a grievous injury would have stopped Cendan now. The almost fanatical sparkle in his eyes had grown ever brighter, and it was clear that he didn't intend to let anyone get between and his goal.

The elf's thoughts were quickly redirected to the present when he twisted to the side, doing his best not to come too close to Cendan in order not to distract him. He managed to avoid a blade that would have skewered him just in time, but his movement had brought him too close to his adversary, who joyfully seized this chance to draw back and slam his sword hilt into his still healing side.

Legolas was thrown against the wall and was unable to stifle a cry of pain as he desperately fought not to lose consciousness. The agony in his side mixed with the realisation that Aragorn would have his head for this, and for a second or two he was simply busy with trying not to pass out and to keep breathing.

While he was still debating how it was possible that the man had hit the one spot that had literally caused him to collapse where he stood – his most convincing explanation for now was that the Valar hated him and wanted him dead – the man took a step closer and grinned at him, which was probably quite a good thing because the sight of his opponent was enough to give Legolas the strength to climb back to his feet.

The man standing in front of him and looking insufferably smug was Lybran, one of Teonvan's two lieutenants. Of course the man knew where to hit him to cause the maximal amount of pain; he had helped Teonvan during their little … "conservation" on their way here, after all. The anger inside of Legolas grew even more, something he had thought highly unlikely. Lybran had been the nice gentleman who had constantly confused his face with a piece of carving wood.

Lybran's thoughts seemed to dwell on much the same memories, for his grin broadened and he raised his left hand to his cheek, a malicious sparkle in his eyes. That gesture was enough for Legolas to push aside the pain that was still burning in the left half of his body, and the elf raised his sword and moved forward, forcing the man to give way.

Lybran seemed to have been prepared for much, but not for the possibility that the blond elf would still be able to move so quickly after the hit he had taken. The man was hard-pressed to defend himself against the elf's surprisingly ferocious attack, and before he really knew what was happening, the elf's blade had thrust through his defences and opened two long, bloody gashes on his face, one on each cheek.

Lybran stumbled backwards, automatically raising a hand to his bleeding face.

"So," he began, eyeing the slightly swaying elf derisively, "are we even now, elf?"

Legolas merely raised an eyebrow, looking amused more than anything else as he moved closer, his eyes not leaving his opponent's body.

"Not nearly, human."

The words had barely left his lips when he moved forward again, displaying a speed and agility that a wounded being shouldn't, no, _couldn't _possibly display. Lybran had just enough time to block the elf's blow that had been aimed at his sword arm, only to realise a moment later that it had been a feint. The elf knocked his blade to the side and turned, thrusting his sword into the man's chest with a fluent movement too fast for Lybran to comprehend, and all he could do was stare stupefied first at the blade protruding from his breast and then at the fair haired elf who was standing in front of him, his hands still wrapped around the blade's hilt.

Legolas simply stared at the man, an emotionless mask on his face, and a moment later he withdrew his sword, giving the collapsing man a curt, dispassionate nod.

"_Now _we're even, Lybran."

He looked down on the man for another few moments before he turned around, only to come face to face with Teonvan who was apparently trying to escape while Cendan was still busy with the last two guards. Legolas had just enough time to stumble to the side as Teonvan's blade cut through the air to the left of him, but he quickly whirled back around, fury and hatred lending him the strength to ignore his complaining body and to concentrate on the situation at hand. Teonvan gave him a dark, malicious smile and brought down his sword for the second time, but Legolas had already moved out of reach and gave the man a kick while he was rushing past him, sending him crashing head first into the closed door behind them.

The captain remained where he was for a few moments, a stunned look on his sallow face and blood dripping down from a cut near his hairline, before he climbed back to his feet. Legolas was just beginning to walk toward him with a dark, dangerous sparkle in his eyes when a tall figure moved forward to intercept him and a hand closed around the elf's arm. Legolas would nearly have lashed out at this perceived threat, but he realised just in time that it was Cendan who had eliminated the last of Teonvan's men and had caught up with them.

"He's mine."

The dark haired man's voice was so emotionless that it surprised even Legolas who was accustomed to his behaviour by now, and when Legolas looked at him he saw the determined, deadly expression on his face.

"He's mine," Cendan repeated, slowly pushing Legolas to the side and moving closer to Teonvan. "This is not your fight, elf."

"Don't tell me which fights to pick, Cendan!" Legolas all but hissed at the man, the urge to kill Teonvan for all he had done burning brightly in his veins. "You may have forgotten what he has done to my friend and me, but I have not!"

"I don't care," Cendan returned emotionlessly, his eyes fixed on Teonvan's pale face. "This was the deal: You get your companions, I get his head. Go free your friend, elf; I will join you later. This won't take long."

Legolas hesitated for a few moments, the hatred inside of him warring with the voice of reason, and Cendan finally turned to look at him, his eyes meeting Legolas' for a second before he whirled back around to the other man.

"He killed Reran, elf!" he said, more emotion in his voice than Legolas had heard from him in all the weeks he had known him. "I _will_ avenge my captain, and I advise you not to come between him and me, or you might come to regret it!"

The elven prince looked at Cendan's tense figure for a few moments, realising that the man meant what he'd just said. Cendan would turn on him if he tried to come between him and Teonvan, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to defeat him in the condition he was in at the moment; the lieutenant was an extremely skilled fighter, after all. A second later reason finally won out, and Legolas inclined his head and soundlessly walked on, disappearing down the corridor into the direction of Glamir's rooms.

Neither of the two men had truly seen him leave, so concentrated were they on each other. A few moments after Legolas had left Teonvan finally arched an eyebrow, doing a rather good job at hiding the fear that was obviously beginning to creep up on him.

"Well, if that's not the traitorous little Easterling. You just made a mistake, Cendan."

"Is that so?" Cendan replied evenly.

"You shouldn't have sent the elf away," Teonvan sneered maliciously. "Do you really think you can defeat me?"

Cendan arched a dark eyebrow as well, some of the hatred in his blue-grey eyes being replaced by open amusement.

"Defeat you?" he echoed unbelievingly. "I could defeat you blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back, and you know it. It is you who made the mistake, Teonvan. You really shouldn't have killed my captain."

Teonvan merely growled, jumped forward and brought his sword down, but Cendan was already long gone before the other man had even reached his position. He easily avoided the brown haired captain's blade and stepped to the side, aiming a blow at his adversary which Teonvan blocked, however. Cendan's next strike nearly took off the other man's head, but Teonvan managed to jump to the side just in time. The brown haired man hissed angrily, sounding like a rather ill-tempered snake for a moment, and aimed a blow at Cendan's heart that the other man blocked just in time.

The force of the blow sent the younger man stumbling backwards, and just before he hit the corridor's wall his foot caught on a part of one of the fallen men's armour. Cendan went down hard, and Teonvan readily seized this chance and jumped forward, aiming at his head. The other man managed to block the blow, but the captain's powerful stroke wrenched his sword out of his hand, leaving Cendan with the feeling that his right arm had just been paralysed from shoulder to wrist.

The brown haired captain grinned in triumph and drew back to deal another blow, but Cendan managed to kick out and hit him right in the left knee. His booted foot connected with a satisfying crunch and sent Teonvan staggering backwards, giving him just enough time to roll over and get back to his feet. Teonvan whirled around, but relaxed a moment later when he realised that Cendan was unarmed.

"So," he began smugly, slowly moving in on Cendan, "One hand tied behind your back, hm?"

"Just wait for it," Cendan said evenly, slowly backing away from the other man and not appearing overly concerned that he had no weapon to defend himself with.

"Oh, I won't have to," Teonvan countered. "I don't intend to drag this out longer than necessary, traitor."

"Traitor?" Cendan repeated, appearing truly surprised for once. "_You _call _me_ a traitor?" He began to laugh, the first true laugh Teonvan had ever heard the other utter. "You killed your own captain and are now abandoning your lord to certain death! Who is the traitor here?"

"You don't understand it, just like the elf and his friend," Teonvan shook his head, apparently very aggrieved. "Treason is in the eye of the beholder. And at least I didn't side with an elf and betrayed my men for him and his little friends."

"Your men!" Cendan spat. "You don't _ have _men; you only have henchmen. I did not 'betray' Girion for the elf or the ranger. I always knew you were despicable, and I don't even care about what you've done to them. All I care about is that you killed Reran."

"Reran!" Teonvan exclaimed and stopped some feet away from Cendan. "Reran was a sentimental fool with his head full of ideas about justice and loyalty!"

"Yes," Cendan agreed softly. "Yes, he was. He was a man of honour, and that is why I will kill you."

"Honour!" Teonvan snorted. "Honour is nothing! Nothing but an illusion, a dream!"

"Honour is all a man has left when everything else has been taken from him, but that is something you will never understand," Cendan retorted. "You are a sick coward, nothing more, nothing less." He began to smile darkly. "But not for long now. Let's get this over with once and for all."

"That's the first thing I agree on with you, half-breed," Teonvan smiled brightly, and a moment later he threw himself forwards with his sword raised in front of him, appearing rather intent on impaling the other man.

Cendan dove to the side just in time to avoid the blade, landing on the cold stone floor with a thud and barely avoiding the body of the guard he had stumbled over a minute ago. His eyes widened slightly when he looked at the dead man in front of him and his hand shot out, grabbing the small cylindrical hilt that protruded from the soldier's chest and ignoring the pain that shot through his injured forearm.

Teonvan jumped forward to bring his sword down onto the downed man's back, but Cendan rolled to the side and got back to his feet in a fluent motion, causing the other man to move past him. Teonvan was unable to stop his momentum in time and crashed into the body of the dead guard, causing him to stumble. The unexpected collision unbalanced the brown haired captain, and before he had the chance to regain his bearings, Cendan had calmly turned around and had thrust his knife into the other man's chest.

Teonvan continued his movement and turned around until he seemed to realised what had happened, but a moment later his eyes grew wide as he looked up from the knife to Cendan who was still grasping the knife hilt, a dark, unreadable expression on his face. The dark haired lieutenant pushed the blade in deeper, a strange flicker in his eyes as Teonvan's body convulsed.

"Strange, is it not?" Cendan asked in an almost friendly voice as he abruptly withdrew his knife and took a step back, giving Teonvan enough space to collapse. "Who would have thought that it would be a dream that kills you, _ Captain_?"

Teonvan was far beyond answering now, and so the young lieutenant slowly and carefully returned his blade to its sheath, leaned back against the wall and watched how the light died in the other man's eyes.  
  
  
  
  
Legolas was rushing down the corridor, the sounds of the two men's fight slowly fading behind him, and was calling himself a multitude of rather uncomplimentary names. Most of them would have caused even the twins to blush, and he was quite sure that the average elf – male and female alike – would have fainted on the spot upon hearing them.

The hatred and thirst for revenge he had pushed to the side only moments earlier did their best to get back to the front of his mind, and more than once he was truly tempted to turn around, walk back, tell Cendan that he didn't care if Teonvan had murdered his captain or not and kill that pitiful excuse for a human being himself. He doubted that he would ever forget what that … man had done to Aragorn and to him as well, and he would have loved to thrust his sword into his heart and watch him die.

The elf shook his head, one again forcing himself to concentrate on the situation at hand. There was nothing he could have done, and if he had stayed and tried to exact his revenge on the brown haired captain, he would have ended up having to fight Cendan as well, and, as loath as he was to admit that, he was in no shape to do that now. He might dislike Cendan, but he was objective enough to admit that he was a very experienced fighter, and especially dangerous with his knives. He had neither the time nor the desire to find out if he could beat him in his current condition.

No, he reasoned inwardly, he had done the right thing. He hadn't let Teonvan get away after all – if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that Cendan would do everything in his power to kill the other man. Teonvan was as good as dead.

More or less satisfied with that reasoning, Legolas gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly and shortly took his left hand off his side wound, frowning slightly when he saw dark crimson blood that covered his fingertips. He would almost have groaned aloud. Wonderful, Aragorn would really kill him for getting that wound reopened – if he was lucky. If he wasn't, the man would hand him over to Thesieni, and thenhe'd be in _real _trouble.

Before he could dwell further on these positively depressing thoughts, his head snapped up and his heart twisted in his chest as he heard a soft, quickly choked off scream. Legolas stopped as if he had just run into an invisible wall, feeling as if someone had just beaten him over the head with something heavy and unyielding. He knew that voice, he _ knew _it... A moment later he began walking again, and in matter of moments he was rushing down the corridor, his eyes sweeping over the walls to his left and right.

By Elbereth's stars, on which side was this damned door again? Left or right? Cendan had told him only a few minutes ago, but he simply couldn't remember, Legolas ranted inwardly, all his thoughts concentrated on the scream he had heard a second or two ago. He did indeed know that voice; he had known it for almost his entire life. What were these people doing to his friend?

He was so engrossed in his worry and fear that he would nearly have run right into a pair of soldiers that were standing watch on either side of a well-made, carved wooden door to his left, and Legolas came to an abrupt, if somewhat graceless stop. The two men who were staring at him with wide eyes were at least as surprised as he was, which was turning out to be a blessing, since that fact gave the elf enough time to step closer and slam the hilt of his sword against the head of the guard closest to him before the man had even time to blink.

The fair haired elf stepped over the collapsing man, not even giving him a second look, an expression of such fury and contempt on his bloody face that the guard's companion was stunned for a few moments. The man came to his senses just in time to see the elf's fist approach his face as if in slow-motion, and time only seemed to speed up after the fair haired being's knuckles had made contact with his cheek. The guards didn't even have time to utter the cry of shock and pain that was on his lips as his head flew backwards and connected with the wall behind him with an audible thud. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, and Legolas turned around before he had even fully collapsed.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings to ensure that these two were the only guards and finally reached for the door's handle, suppressing dark memories that welled up inside of him and praying fervently that it wouldn't be locked from the inside. The door opened without a sound and Legolas breathed a deep sigh of relief and quickly revised his hypothesis: Maybe the Valar didn't want to kill him after all. They might simply revel in his misery.

All thoughts of the Valar and whether they hated him or not fled from his mind as he took a step forward, into the room and a scene that might have come out straight of one of his nightmares. He had no fond memories of this room to begin with, but the sight in front of him was something that left "not fond" far behind. Legolas froze where he stood, his eyes fixed on the room's two occupants. One was Glamir, who was looking just as he had looked the last time he had seen him, if not a bit more … happy. The second was Celylith, who looked definitely different than he remembered him.

The silver haired elf was chained to the wall in the one corner, to the left of the fireplace, and most of his right arm was covered with makeshift bandages that looked a lot like the remains of Glorfindel's coat and shirt. His right arm was bent at an impossible angle, and the fair haired elf had to take only one look at the lump that was visible where arm met shoulder to see that it was dislocated. Somebody seemed to have taken great pleasure in cutting close to every bit of Celylith's skin he had been able to reach, and Legolas was hard-pressed to spy a patch of skin that was uncut or not marred with dark bruises.

Neither the man nor the silver haired elf seemed to notice him, and Legolas watched, still paralysed with shock, how Glamir carefully put the bloody knife he was holding down onto the wooden chest standing next to him and took a step forward, saying something that Legolas couldn't understand over the blood that was rushing loudly in his ears. The small man reached out and grabbed his captive by the hair, tangling his hand in the long unbound strands and jerking his head back with a quick, cruel move. Glamir turned Celylith's head to the side to inspect the two fresh cuts in his left cheek, obviously enjoying the pain that flashed over the elf's face, and that was the moment when Legolas snapped out of his brief trance.

He unclenched his teeth and took another step forward, his eyes not leaving the figures to his left and his voice as cold and icy as the lands of Forodwaith in mid-winter.

"I'll thank you," he began as evenly as he could, "to take your hands off my friend."

Glamir's reaction was instantaneous. He whirled around, surprise flickering over his face, his hand still tangled in the silver haired elf's hair whose eyes had grown quite large by now. Celylith didn't say a single word, but the small smile that spread over his face spoke volumes.

"Well," the man began slowly, "if that's not the dear prince. Just _what _are you doing here?"

"Ah, this and that," Legolas answered nonchalantly as he slowly came closer. "Rescuing my other companion, overthrowing Girion, killing Teonvan … just a bit of everything, I guess."

"So you've been busy," Glamir nodded calmly, still not letting go of his prisoner.

"Indeed," Legolas agreed, a mere ten feet away from the two of them now.

"Stop right there," Glamir said sharply, his eyes not leaving the elven prince neutral face. "If you come one step closer, I will kill your friend here."

"You would be dead before you reached that knife of yours," Legolas said calmly. "Step away from him and release him, and I might not kill right away."

Glamir shook his head indignantly and moved to the side, very nearly wrenching the silver haired elf's head from his shoulders.

"You and your kind always insist on disturbing me at the most inopportune moments," the man complained, grinned slightly as he heard his elven prisoner's hiss of pain. "It is beginning to annoy me, to be honest. You are really no fun at all."

"Injure him further and I'll show you how much 'fun' I can be," Legolas hissed angrily, taking a step to the side as well. "Let him go. _Now_."

Glamir didn't answer but merely kept grinning at him, still edging sideward. Legolas' attention was briefly diverted by his friend's pained face when the man sprung into action, and Celylith's warning cry sounded at the same time that Legolas jumped forward, his shoulder hitting the man in the back and sending him flying forward.

The abrupt action made Glamir miss the knife he had been aiming at, but he managed to wrap his fingers around the handle of one of the whips that had been lying on top of the wooden chest, as if they were exhibits of some sort. Legolas needed a moment to battle the pain and dizziness that rose inside of him, and Glamir whirled round, his fist closed tightly around the tool.

With a speed Legolas hadn't expected from the small man Glamir moved forward, and the elven prince had just enough time to raise an arm in front of his face. The whip's thongs wrapped themselves around the elf's forearm, and a second later Legolas could barely bite back a groan of pain when he felt small metal hooks bite into his skin. The pain both helped him to fully concentrate on the situation and simultaneously served to incense him even more. Glamir had used this whip lately if it had been lying around here. On Glorfindel, or on Celylith. Or on both.

Legolas' expression darkened and he gave an inward growl. He didn't have the time or the desire to play some stupid game with this sick, small man. He needed to get his friend out of here, and he would not waste time with Glamir when Celylith needed his help. Pushing the pain of this new injury aside, Legolas yanked hard on the whip, wrenching it from his smaller opponent's grasp.

Glamir backed away, the smug expression on his face for the first time beginning to falter. Legolas didn't give him any chance to regain his bearings and pushed forward, forcing the man to back away. Glamir looked up into the silver-blue eyes of the elf that was closing in on him, and with the first real shudder of fear he had experienced in a long time he realised that there was nothing but calm, dark determination in his eyes. There wasn't even hatred or fury on his face, only the firm resolve to end this, and to end this now.

The elf pushed him further back so that he was only a few inches away from the wall, and with a last, desperate move forward the man lunged for his knife that was still lying on the edge of the chest. Legolas' left hand shot out, the whip's handle knocking the weapon off the wooden chest, and while Glamir was still moving past him, the elf gave him a kick that knocked the man's leg out from under him.

Glamir fell backwards with a surprised yelp, and half a second later the back of his head connected with the edge of the chest with a sharp, ugly crack. Glamir seemed to be frozen for a few seconds, his eyes staring straight ahead in an expression of true surprise, but then his body tumbled to the side, his neck bent at an impossible angle.

Legolas remained where he was for a few moments, simply staring at the dead man, before he gingerly leaned back against the wall and gulped air into his lungs. This little fight had about taken the last of the strength, but he still couldn't really believe that Glamir was dead. A small, dark part of his mind was by no means satisfied by the results. The man had been despicable, even more so than Teonvan in his opinion, and if there had ever been someone who had deserved a slow, painful death, it was Glamir.

"Well … I can't really … say that I feel the … least bit sad about this."

The elf snapped out of his short trance faster than he had thought possible, and in a second he had rushed over to his chained friend, his own wounds forgotten for the moment.

"Celylith!" he breathed, relief flooding through his entire body. He carefully reached out and placed a hand on his friend's less bloody cheek, his dark expression at odds with the large smile on his face. "By the Valar, I will kill you once we are out of here! Are you alright? What were you thinking? Why aren't you back home? You simply left the palace and chased after us without taking anyone with you??"

"I had … the twins. I wasn't … alone," the other elf mumbled exhaustedly. His head snapped up and he winced openly when Legolas touched one of the still bleeding cuts on his face. "Lord Glorfindel? He is alive?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded quickly and began to examine the chains that bound the other elf to the wall. "Yes, he is alive, don't worry. Estel is with him, which probably means that they're in some sort of trouble now."

He swore softly as he realised that he would need the key to open the shackles; none of the tools he could see here would be able to open the locks.

"Damned be that man," he hissed with a look at Glamir's body. "Where is the key?"

"My lord…" Celylith began, suppressing a cough.

"Don't worry, _mellon nín_," the blond elf soothed, looking wildly around for something he could use to force the locks open. "I'll have you out of here in no time."

"Legolas…"

"I am so sorry I couldn't come sooner; I tried everything, I promise," Legolas went on, not really noticing that exasperation was slowly beginning to mix with the pain on his silver haired friend's face. "This is all my fault … don't worry, everything will be fine…"

"My lord!" Celylith said again, speaking as loudly as he could at the moment. Legolas actually stopped speaking to look at him with wide eyes, obviously already beginning to look for a serious head injury of some sort, and so he added quickly, "The guards outside have it."

"The guards outside have what, my friend?" Legolas asked gently, asking himself if Celylith had suffered a serious blow to the head. Damn Glamir, he thought furiously, if he had the chance, he would kill him again!

"The key," Celylith said flatly. He almost began to grin when he saw the stunned expression on his friend's face, but remembered his cut lips just in time. "To the chains," he added dryly. "The chains which you wanted to open if I'm not mistaken…"

Legolas didn't say anything but merely looked at him blankly before he turned around, walked over to the two unconscious men, quickly searched them and returned to his friend with a small bunch of keys. Ignoring the pain in his body, he struggled to open the locks, and just before the chains fell away, he gave his silver haired friend a dark, threatening look.

"Not a word about this."

"Of course not, my lord," Celylith agreed somewhat cheekily, readily allowing the other elf to support him. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his friend, beginning with how he had managed to get himself into such a decidedly bloody condition once again, but he found that he lacked the strength to do anything than try and stumble into the direction of the door.

"I hope so," Legolas grumbled, trying to keep both himself and Celylith upright. He gave his ashen-faced friend a more serious look. "What about your shoulder? Should I try to relocate it here or…"

"No," the other elf quickly shook his head. "Please, just let's get out of here. It can wait for a few more minutes. Please," he repeated, looking at his friend pleadingly, "I need to see the sky again. Please, Legolas."

"Alright," Legolas nodded reluctantly. "Can you walk, my friend? We need to get into the courtyard, and there are quite a few stairs to climb."

"Of course I can," Celylith said quickly. "Lead the way, my prince, and I will follow."

"That is what got you into trouble in the first place," the other elf reminded him softly while they left the cell behind, neither of them sparing Glamir's body a second glance.

"Maybe," Celylith nodded tiredly, resisting the lure of unconsciousness as best as he could. "But that is the way it should be. I will follow you into the very fires of Mordor if you lead me there, my friend."

"I know," Legolas nodded back, a serious expression on his bloody face. "I know that, Celylith, and I thank you for it."

Celylith merely smiled slightly, but quickly returned his eyes to the floor, doing his best not to stumble. By the time they had walked twenty paces the silver haired elf was nearly unconscious, and so it came that Legolas was so busy supporting him that he nearly collided with Cendan once he rounded the corner next to the place where he had left him and Teonvan.

The dark haired lieutenant ignored both the alarmed expression on the silver haired elf's face and the soft words of explanation the blond one whispered to him and stepped to the side to let them pass, an eyebrow raised as he saw that Legolas was even bloodier than before. He did not ask what had become of Glamir, for that was to be seen so clearly in the elf's eyes that it might as well have been painted onto his forehead, and so he merely followed the two elves in silence.

After a few moments they reached the stairs leading up to the courtyard, and Legolas stopped, one of his arms slung around the semiconscious Celylith's waist and one grasping the other elf's arm he had pulled over his shoulder.

Legolas' eyes wandered over the bodies of the dead guards before fixing on Cendan who had stopped as well, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Teonvan?"

Cendan returned the look evenly, a small, satisfied sparkle appearing and disappearing in his dark blue eyes.

"He is dead."

Something dark and very old flared to life in the elf's eyes before he nodded curtly.

"Good."

He turned back around and helped his silver haired friend to climb the stairs without another word, and, for the first time since he had met him, Cendan truly understood him.  
  
  
  
  
Aragorn was losing the fight, something that was lost neither on him nor on his opponent. Caellan's grin had grown more and more smug these past few minutes, and it had seemed to have become larger as well. It would have been an interesting process to watch, if Caellan hadn't been so intent on trying to kill him.

The young ranger pushed the thought to the back of his mind and blocked the blow that would very nearly have taken his head off, feeling how his arms and especially his shoulder protested against the strain. He might be reckless – that was at least what Legolas and his brothers were telling him all the time – but he wasn't completely daft, and he was very well aware of the fact that he needed to end this, soon. Teonvan's lieutenant might have the intelligence and grace of a retarded troll and no sword fighting technique whatsoever, but he was strong, very strong. Sooner or later he wouldn't be able to get out of the way quickly enough or his own strength would simply give out, and then Caellan would have him right where he wanted him.

No, he thought darkly as he stumbled to the side, he needed to put an end to this – the only problem was that he had absolutely no idea how. Caellan had pushed him back further and further, and they were too far away for Glorfindel or any of his companions to help him.

That thought only served to increase the dread and urgency in his heart. Glorfindel was in no shape to help anyone at the moment, and he really needed to get back to him to make sure that the elf didn't get himself killed. Besides, if this beefy lieutenant killed him, Glorfindel would never forgive himself; he knew very well how seriously the reborn elf from Gondolin took his duty to protect Elrond and all of his house.

Having come to that conclusion, he was still stuck with the problem of how he should convince the dear Caellan to cease his attempts to chop off several of his limbs, he thought ironically as he danced to the side to avoid a stroke that could have hewn a wild boar in two. Before he could follow that train of thought further, he felt the rough texture of stone at his back and realised that his adversary had backed him into a wall – again. With an inward curse whose ferocity shocked even himself to a certain degree he threw himself to the side, only to learn that Caellan was – unfortunately, he added wryly – not quite as stupid as he had thought him to be.

In the moment he felt Caellan's left hand grasp him by his sword arm, he realised that he had jumped to the right every time if he'd had to avoid the larger man's blade in an instinctive attempt to protect his wounded left shoulder. Even someone as stupid as Caellan realised something like that after six or seven times, a dark, sarcastic voice that sounded disconcertingly like Elladan told him inwardly. You never did something like that, especially not when your adversary was built like a troll and possessed the matching temper…

Before his inner voice could lecture him any further, Caellan's grip on his arm tightened and he was swung around and nearly lifted off his feet. Before Aragorn even knew what was happening, the wall rushed up to him at an alarming speed, and he did the only thing he could to avoid being smashed against it headfirst: He twisted to the side as far as he could, vainly trying to turn around fully. He hit the wall with his injured shoulder, and didn't even realise that he had uttered a shocked cry of pain while he was crumbling to the ground, his sword slipping from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

For a few moments, he couldn't even breathe over the agony that filled every bit of his torso, and a second later he was relieved of the whole problem when Caellan took a step forward and kicked him into the ribs with enough force to stop an attacking oliphaunt. Since he was already out of air, Aragorn merely gasped as the other man's foot made contact with his already hurting torso, and even despite the pain that flared up in his side he couldn't cry out.

Another kick hit almost the exact same place and with another breathless gasp the young man tried to curl himself up, desperately trying to draw enough air into his lungs. The next kick hit his hip rather than his ribs, leaving him with the distinct impressions that Caellan had just shattered the bone and must possess toes made of metal.

After another few kicks, Caellan stepped back, not even breathing heavily, and grinned down at the dark haired ranger who was still trying to protect his torso from the worst of the abuse.

"Just like this," he said softly. "_This _is what I call fun." Aragorn was too busy breathing to answer, and so Caellan shook his head after a moment, carefully gripping his sword in both hands. "I wish we had more time. I would love to show you some of my favourite means to … amuse myself."

With a for a man of his size surprisingly quick movement Caellan jumped forward to bring his sword down onto his defenceless adversary, but from one moment to the other the young ranger stopped gasping loudly for breath and rolled to the side, gaining his feet just as Caellan whirled back around.

The large man scowled at the ranger, a dark, malicious gleam in his eyes, and Aragorn slowly backed away, his eyes darting over the corridor. He eyed his sword longingly, but knew very well that there was no way he would get to it in time. Caellan had just passed it, and there was no way he would get past him without having one or more of his limbs forcefully removed.

Think, his inward voice screamed in a near panic, forcing him to push the pain in his ribs and shoulder back as best as he could, _think_, by the Valar! Aragorn clenched his teeth as he slowly moved backwards, trailed by a rather irate lieutenant. If he didn't find a weapon in the next few seconds, it would be too late and…

His thoughts trailed off as his eyes fell on a chest-high, extremely ugly candlestick to his left, and a hazy idea slowly began to form in his mind. He had seen one like it before; in Girion's audience chamber, right behind the man's seat. It once again surprised him just _how _ugly it was, but this time that didn't really interest him all that much. Was interested him more were the – apparently ornamental – spikes that adorned most of the candlestick, the spikes that made the object look like something out of somebody's nightmares.

'Oh, please tell me you are joking,' his inward voice protested, and this time he even smiled. This was something Elladan would definitely say. Before he had time to rethink his plan (his brothers would surely have started laughing uproariously at that rather euphemistic term), he stopped and actually took a step forward, catching Caellan off guard. The lieutenant stopped as well, his eyes wandering over the corridor suspiciously. A moment later he shrugged and started moving again, grinning at the younger man who was edging to the side, as if hoping to avoid him.

Caellan took another step forward, unknowingly crossing the line Aragorn had drawn in his mind. Before the large lieutenant had even fully set his foot down, Aragorn had sprung to the left and grabbed the candlestick. The candles tilted crazily and fell to the floor, and the dark haired man whirled back around, the candlestick raised in front of him like a spear. Caellan didn't have the time to stop his momentum – not that he would have stopped in the first place anyway. He simply didn't realise that he was in any danger, and so surprise was the only emotion that was visible on his face when he stopped abruptly as the spikes burrowed themselves in his chest.

For a few moments he remained upright, his eyes wandering from the object protruding from his chest to the young man in front of him, before he fell to the ground, surprise forever etched onto his features. Aragorn leaned against the wall and absent-mindedly stomped out a candle before it could set anything aflame, his eyes still fixed on Caellan's body and the candlestick that pierced his chest, and finally, after several moments, he began to grin slightly. No one would believe this, he realised with removed amusement. No one, not even the twins.

Deciding that he should really try and find the others before he collapsed on the spot, he slowly began to walk back the way he had come, exhaustion beginning to grow inside of him. When he reached the door leading to the room where they had found all the guards, he was hard-pressed to even keep his eyes open. He made his way past several of Laenro's men who were apparently guarding the entrance, and he was already at the other door through with Girion had disappeared earlier when he heard a shout behind him.

It took him several seconds to turn around without falling flat on his face, but in the end he managed to, looking at Menvan who was wearing an uncommonly large grin.

"We did it!" he exclaimed and beamed at Aragorn who was too surprised to really react. "Sero just sent a messenger. They have secured the gates, even though the Gods only know how many of Girion's people got out of the city before they managed to get to them all. There is still some fighting going on in the western and southern districts, but the courtyard and most of the city is ours!" He paused, looking at the slightly swaying dark haired man in front of him. "Are you alright, ranger?" he asked with some real concern. "Where is Caellan?"

"Dead," Aragorn answered curtly. "He had … too much fun. It's not good for the heart."

Even though Menvan didn't really know what the other man was talking about, he nodded back at him. He knew – just like all of the men – how Teonvan and his lieutenants liked to amuse themselves, and whatever had happened to Caellan, he had deserved it.

"Come," he nodded at Aragorn and walked over to the door leading to Girion's private quarters. "Let's see if they managed to stop our 'lord', shall we?"

Aragorn nodded, too tired and in too much pain to really think of something to say, and a moment later they reached the door where Menvan stopped as if someone had nailed his feet to the floor. Aragorn reached his side a few seconds later, finding it hard to walk because of the pain in his maltreated hip, but the sight in front of him was enough for him to forget about the pain in his body, and a small smile began to grow on his pale face.

The room on whose threshold they were standing was just as dark as the rest of the castle, and it had been a kind of small library once, or so it appeared. Now most of the dark wooden shelves had been thrown over, and books, scrolls and maps were scattered everywhere. A large part of Aragorn winced at the sight. He loved books and could spend hours with the large tomes in his father's library, and to see the books lying all over the place was not a sight he cherished. He grinned inwardly. Erestor would probably suffer an instant stroke if he was here, and his elven father would take the nearest sword and start dismembering the one responsible for this chaos.

Then again, he thought, maybe he wouldn't, because it appeared that it was Glorfindel who was to blame for most of the destruction. There were several of Laenro's and Cendan's men, but they were all standing in the one corner of the room, guarding three guards who looked very, very intimidated. Now that he thought about it, the men guarding the soldiers didn't appear to be any less awed, which was something Aragorn could even understand. After all, even to him who had seen it twice or thrice before the sight of an angry Glorfindel was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Right now the elf in question was pinning Girion to the wall and didn't even seem to realise that the man was dangling several inches above the floor. All the injuries on his body seemed to fade against the thunderous, very, very dangerous expression on his face, and there was a terrible light in his eyes that seemed to fill the entire room. Aragorn shook his head, half-amused and half as awed as the rest of the men. Glorfindel in a fury was indeed a sight to behold, and he felt – not for the first time – a small stab of sympathy for the balrog the elf had faced all these years ago.

"…want to do now, human?" Glorfindel's icy voice could be heard, cutting through the silent room like a knife through butter. "Well? You are not so strong now, without all your guards to hide behind, are you?"

He tightened his grip and brought his face closer to Girion's obviously terrified one, his other hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger so that the white knuckles showed through the bruised skin.

"You shouldn't have hurt my friends. I don't care what you or your men do to me, but no one, _no one_, harms my lord's family or their friends. You will pay for every bruise they have sustained, that I swear by Elbereth's stars, and from what I've seen that will take quite some time. Too bad for you."

Aragorn gave Menvan a quick look, and saw immediately that the man wouldn't step forward and stop Glorfindel. He couldn't really blame him, the young ranger thought to himself; besides, Girion deserved death tenfold. But not by their hands, he added inwardly. They were strangers here, outsiders that had no business judging the dark haired man. He was in no doubt that any of the men in this city would convict Girion to death, but it was _them _who would have to do it. Not he or Legolas, and not Glorfindel.

He took a deep breath and slowly began to walk forward, careful not to move too stealthily. He was sure that the elf was aware of his surroundings, but he saw no reason not to be cautious. The last thing he wanted was to die now because Glorfindel had mistaken him for an enemy.

"Let him go, my friend," he said softly. "He is not yours to kill. Let him be judged by those whose families and friends he's killed."

Glorfindel either ignored him or hadn't even realised he was being addressed, and so Aragorn took another step forward, standing so close that he could have reached out and touched his old teacher, something he was careful not to do.

_"Glorfindel," _ he began in low Sindarin, _"Daro. E ú farn beleg boe degich chon. Leitho chon, hîr nín. Nestatham."_

"That is not the point, Estel," Glorfindel retorted in Westron, apparently not even realising that Aragorn had spoken in Elvish. "You shouldn't _have _to heal – and yet you do. It is _ his_," he tightened his grip on Girion's shirtfront, "fault. He has to pay."

"There has been enough killing for one day," Aragorn shook his head softly and finally reached out to put a hand on the golden haired elf's shoulder. "Let it be enough, my friend."

Glorfindel didn't move for several moments, his hard, angry eyes boring into Girion's, and finally he released his grip and let the man drop like something very dirty he had just picked up, a disgusted expression on his face.

"You are right," he told Aragorn without taking his eyes off the other man. "I won't sully myself by killing something as worthless as him."

Aragorn wordlessly tightened his hold on the elf's shoulder, feeling tired more than anything else. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up at home, was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was, he thought wryly as he watched a couple of Laenro's men rush forward and take a hold of Girion who was still staring at Glorfindel with wide eyes. Aragorn smiled slightly, trying to ignore the way the room was beginning to tilt to the side. He couldn't really blame the other man, and to someone who had never before seen an infuriated elf lord, Glorfindel could be a shock indeed.

The floor was beginning to start moving as well, in a rather annoyingly unsteady fashion, and Aragorn tried to lean against the wall as nonchalantly as possible. There was absolutely no way he would collapse in front of Menvan who was coming closer now, a slightly stunned expression on his face as he looked at his former lord.

Menvan stopped in front of the rather pale ranger, doing his best to keep some distance between himself and the elf. He hadn't trusted his kind to begin with, and this little spectacle hadn't done anything to change his mind. They were unpredictable, and, if he was perfectly honest with him, more than a little bit frightening.

"Why didn't you let him kill him?" he asked curiously. "He'd have every right to do so."

"No," Glorfindel shook his head for the dark haired ranger, "No, I hadn't, and neither did he. This … man," he shot Girion a dark look, "is your prisoner, not ours. If anyone has a right to judge him, it is you and the other people of this town. This city had suffered under him far longer than we've been here."

"And for that he'll die," Menvan nodded practically, one of his hands pressed against the blood-encrusted cut in his side. "Whether he dies now or later is a triviality if you ask me."

"Excuse me for interrupting," Aragorn remarked softly from his position at the wall. "But what about Legolas and the others? Has there been any word?"

"No," Menvan nodded seriously, a concerned expression flittering over his face. "There has been no word of your friends, Laenro or the lieutenant yet. I wouldn't worry yet, though," he added quickly as he saw how the others' faces darkened. "Our men are just beginning to search the castle thoroughly. Some men appeared some minutes ago with a couple of prisoners they brought up from the dungeons. They said Lieutenant Cendan had told them that he would join them later."

"So Cendan, Laenro and Legolas are alone in the dungeons?" Aragorn asked incredulously. "Great Manwë, and he tells me _ I _am reckless!"

"You are," Glorfindel nodded helpfully.

"Thank you," Aragorn retorted wryly, leaning back against the wall once more as it became clear that his body didn't approve of foolish things such as trying to stand unaided.

"You are most welcome, young one."

The ranger merely glared at his friend, and Menvan decided in a split second that the elf wasn't that bad after all. If there was one thing he would publicly, unhesitatingly and repeatedly agree on, it was that the ranger was among the most reckless beings he had ever met. He was still mentally debating if he should interrupt the argument the two of them were having (the ranger insisted on trying to find his friends while the elf's statements could concisely be summed up with "over my dead body"), a small commotion broke out behind them, and Menvan, Aragorn and Glorfindel turned around, for a moment afraid that maybe Girion was trying to escape.

Aragorn relaxed after a second when he saw that Girion was still being constrained by three guards, and that it had been only Laenro who had entered the room. The brown haired man ignored the greetings his men called out and simply kept walking, his eyes fixed on Girion's face with a strange intensity. Aragorn narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the approaching man, distracted by the fact that he was very busy thanking every Vala he could think of at the moment. If Laenro was here and – as it seemed – relatively unharmed, there was also the chance that Cendan, Legolas and, hopefully, Celylith were alive and would be here soon.

The young ranger was still contemplating these thoughts and was too distracted to give the other man his full attention, and so he was just as surprised as everybody else when Laenro stopped in front of Girion and his guards, but only to grab the dark-clad lord by the throat and throw him to the floor. The men who had been guarding him stepped back, momentarily confused, and Aragorn pushed himself off the wall.

"Laenro! What are you doing?"

The other man didn't reply and continued pinning the struggling Girion to the ground, who finally stopped moving as Laenro pressed a knife against his throat. Aragorn exchanged a quick look with Glorfindel before he reluctantly began moving, a strange numbness filling him. No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he knew with crystal clarity what had happened to push Laenro so far. The man had hated Girion before, yes, but Aragorn was sure that he would have been more than willing to let his former lord be judged by the people, considering how certain the passing of the death penalty was.

"Laenro," he repeated, slowly walking up to the man, "What is going on?"

"They killed her," was all the brown haired man ground out, his eyes never leaving Girion's face. "Just like that. She is dead."

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had known Ethoani was dead, he had known it from the moment he had seen the blank expression on Laenro's face. He had never met the girl (well, not knowingly at least), but Legolas had told him about everything she had done for them, and even before now the fact that she had saved his brothers had been a debt he would have never been able to repay. And now, he thought darkly, she was dead. Dead because of him, and because she had gone back to save the twins, Celylith and Glorfindel…

The ranger's guilty thoughts were interrupted by Girion's sneering voice that sounded slightly pressed, something that was rather understandable with a knife pressing against his throat.

"Ah, you are talking about the girl, I presume?" he asked, appearing remarkably nonchalant for someone in his position. "Who was she? A friend? Or a lover?"

Laenro's face paled even more and he pressed the dagger's blade a bit harder against the other's throat, his hands beginning to shake with fury.

"She is … she _was _my sister. And you," he increased the pressure even more, "are dead."

Girion opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Glorfindel's calm voice, who had followed Aragorn over to the men. The elf's voice was cold and emotionless, the deadly light still shining brightly in his eyes.

"If you value your life, human, be silent. Speak another word and I'll kill you myself."

The elf's words seemed to remind Laenro of his goal, and he leaned forward with the very obvious intention of cutting the dark haired man's throat. Aragorn cast a quick look around and saw that neither Menvan nor any other of the men showed any indication of wanting to stop Laenro. And who could blame them, he asked himself tiredly. He didn't even know why _he _was trying to save Girion's life, he truly didn't.

Aragorn shook his head and took another step forward, tearing himself out of his thoughts.

"Don't," he said quickly, stopping only a foot away from the two men. "Don't kill him."

"Why?" Laenro hissed, an indescribable gleam in his eyes. "Why not?"

"Let him be judged by the people of this town," Aragorn said softly, trying to come up with something that would convince Laenro not to murder the other man on the spot. "If you kill him now, you simply give him what he wants. Think of what Ethoani would have wished you to do. Would she have wanted you to kill him in cold blood?"

For a moment, Aragorn thought he was really getting through to the other man. Laenro seemed to hesitate for several seconds, but then the brown haired man slowly turned to look at him, his eyes cold and hard as ice.

"Yes," he retorted slowly and evenly. "That is _exactly _what she would have wanted me to do."

Aragorn had still not grasped the full meaning of Laenro's words when the other man whirled back around. In a matter of half a second Laenro had removed his dagger from Girion's neck and had brought it down, burying it in the dark haired man's throat.

Girion's eyes grew wide and the mocking sparkle that had never truly left them faded and died as he realised what was happening, but he didn't have the air to scream as blood welled up inside his throat. Only when the sound of the knife point hit stone with a scratching, nasty sound Laenro stopped pushing it down, apparently undeterred by the shocked silence around him or the blood that was beginning to pour out of the lethal wound.

After only seconds the dark haired man's struggles died, and only when he had stopped moving entirely and his eyes were staring brokenly at the room's ceiling Laenro began to move. He slowly stood to his feet, not even bothering to remove his knife, and looked down at the man he had just killed for long moments. He finally turned around without giving Girion's body or Aragorn and the others another look and walked into the direction of the door. Not one of the men tried to stop him, and so he soon disappeared out of the silent room, nothing on his face, not even the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

After several long moments Menvan tore himself out of the kind of trance that had descended over the humans and the elf and nodded at his men to leave the room which they did only too gladly. When the last of his men had left, the brown haired man turned back around to Aragorn and Glorfindel, who were still staring at dead man at their feet.

"It was a quicker death than Girion has granted many of his victims," he told them, his eyes dark and absolutely serious. "It was more than he deserved."

With a last, cold look at Girion's body Menvan turned around, and a moment later Glorfindel reached out to steady Aragorn and began to follow him. The young ranger was still too stunned by what had just happened to protest against the blond elf's actions, and only when they stopped on the threshold did he look back at the dead man who looked surprisingly small as he lay amidst the broken shelves and scattered books in a pool of his own blood.

Maybe Menvan was right, Aragorn thought as he looked at Girion. Maybe Girion had deserved this, but what frightened him far more than this was the realisation that he understood Laenro's actions and that, deep in his heart, he wished that _he _had been the one who had thrust that knife into the man's throat.

A small tug on his arm brought him back to reality, and Aragorn turned back to Glorfindel and gently grasped his arm, both to steady himself and to help keep the elf upright. They began to make their way back to the courtyard through the castle's many corridors, leaving the town's dead ruler behind in the dark room, unmourned and as alone in death as he had been in life.  
  
  
  
  
"Sir?"

Only silence answered the softly spoken word, and the speaker sighed exasperatedly.

"My lord?"

The thus addressed man didn't move an inch, apparently unaware that someone was speaking to him. Halyo came to the instant, spontaneous decision that this was the worst assignment he'd ever been on, which didn't mean too much considering that it was only his third. Still, he was sure that no matter on how many missions he'd be sent in the future, they wouldn't get close to this … disaster.

He gave his superior a dark look and took a step closer to him, urgency rushing through every part of his body. They needed to get away from here, soon. Very soon. Preferably now.

"My lord?" he tried again. "Sangwar?

The older man kept looking straight forward, into the direction of the city they had left behind about an hour ago, but finally he turned around to his younger companion, a strangely unconcerned expression on his face. He raised an almost amused eyebrow as he looked at the worried countenance of the other man.

"Rather anxious to leave, aren't you, young one?"

Halyo smiled wryly at him and gestured over to the town and the thin coils of smoke that were visible over some of the houses in the distance.

"If you'll forgive me for saying so, my lord, the reason for that is rather obvious, is it not? I would like to get away from here before the good and gentle townsfolk of Baredlen decide that burning down houses is boring and that burning us at a stake is far more amusing."

"They might come to that conclusion, yes," Sangwar nodded friendly, still not moving an inch. "However, I think that the 'good and gentle townsfolk of Baredlen' are quite busy ransacking and burning the houses of Girion's followers. That will take some time."

Halyo obviously bit back a rather sarcastic response and began checking on their horses once again. While the younger man was busy with their mounts and their pack animal, Sangwar turned back around to the city at his back, not nearly as anxious as his companion. They were hidden by a copse of trees at the moment, and he was rather sure that, if someone had even thought of positioning guards at the gates, they were concentrated on the eastern walls, the ones separating them from the Easterlings, not the western.

Sangwar shook his head inwardly, once again thanking his instincts that had told him insistently that they shouldn't attend the elf's execution today, invitation from Girion or no invitation. The man smiled slightly. It had been one of his better decisions in his opinion, and it had been made just in time, too. Had they been anywhere near that gallery, they would be either dead or captured now, that was one thing Sangwar was very sure about. Since they hadn't been there and had already been almost at the west gate when fighting had broken out, they had managed to seize the momentary confusion to get out of the city without anyone even noticing them.

The older delegate sighed softly and forced himself to turn back around to his colleague, inwardly asking himself just what their liege would say to these particular developments. He didn't really need to think long about it. Their lord would _not _be happy about them.

"It might be a good thing after all," the younger man tried to lighten the older delegate's mood, more than a little scared of their liege's reaction himself. "Girion would have turned on us sooner or later."

"Sooner than we would have turned on him?" Sangwar asked straightforwardly. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"I think he would have," Halyo nodded his head emphatically. "He is insane."

"_Was_," the other man stressed. "The chances of him being still alive are about as big as an orc's chances of survival on the seventh circle of Minas Tirith."

"I won't shed a tear over him," the other man grumbled softly. "He was insane _and _completely insufferable."

"That may very well be," Sangwar nodded, a mildly threatening sparkle in his eyes. "But our lord will – figuratively speaking, of course. In fact you hadn't realised, young one, we have just failed in our mission. I doubt he will be very happy about it."

Halyo bowed his head in an attempt to hide the fear on his face.

"No, sir, he won't be."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Sangwar said nonchalantly, walking over to his horse to check the animal's cinch. "If there is someone who will be held responsible, it is me, not you. You are merely my apprentice; it is I who is … who was in charge of this mission."

"This is hardly your fault!" Halyo protested. "If Girion had only listened to you, none of this would have happened!"

"Yet he did not," Sangwar shrugged. "Let's view this from the more positive side: This little … disaster is a very important lesson, after all. Is it not?"

"Well," Halyo began, wondering inwardly just why Sangwar couldn't just tell him all this when they were several dozen miles away from this place. Or better yet, across the Anduin in more civilised areas. "Yes, of course. It does teach one that one should kill an elf when one has the chance and should not toy with him."

"Yes," Sangwar nodded, "That's one part of it. You should never underestimate the Firstborn, young one. They may be a fading people, but they aren't completely gone yet. As long as they are here in these parts, they are a force to be reckoned with."

Halyo merely snorted and shook his head.

"The elves? They are hiding in their woods and settlements. They are no threat."

"Oh?" Sangwar raised an amused eyebrow. "Then explain to me what just happened back there." Before the younger man could come up with a reply, he raised his hand and interrupted him. "Don't trouble yourself. You can't, which just proves my point. I can't prove it of course, but the elves and that ranger somehow managed to break up the alliance with the Easterlings, the Valar alone know how. And there is also the small matter of them instigating the first apparently successful revolt in this city for over a hundred and fifty years." He shook his head. "They are either incredibly lucky or incredibly shrewd, I just don't know which."

He didn't wait for the other man to say something and nodded at their horses.

"Come on then. We should leave now. Just because the townsfolk may be too busy to look for us at the moment doesn't mean that the Easterling are."

Halyo inclined his head wordlessly at the older man, and within minutes they had mounted their horses and had turned them south-west, into the direction that would take them to the Great River in the end. Halyo, with the pack animal in tow, was riding at the front while Sangwar was following a bit more slowly, so deep in thought that he gave his surroundings only the most basic attention.

One lesson they had learned here was indeed never to underestimate the Elves, he thought to himself. His apprentice would do well to remember that, unless he wanted that the last thing he would ever see was the blade of an elf's sword – something that, considering their line of work, wasn't even all that unlikely.

That fact was nothing new to him, though. He had always done his best to avoid elves whenever he could, something he had never regretted – and most likely never would either. What was more interesting in his opinion, however, was that ruling solely by fear got you nowhere, as the late Girion had most probably realised as well before his death.

You could try to rule by terror alone, and suppress all opposition there was in your realm with the most brutal means imaginable, but in the end it availed you nothing. Even with a population that was as deeply cowed as Baredlen's it hadn't needed more than the smallest spark to ignite them into rebellion. It could be the sudden emergence of a leader, or a famine, or a lost battle, or … some troublesome elves. Yes, if Girion had been just a bit more intelligent or a bit less obsessed with his war, he might have had enough sense to kill the elves once he had got his hands on them, but in the end it didn't really matter. If he had done that, it would have been someone or something else to prompt the people to rebel – perhaps not now, perhaps not even this year, but someday not too far in the future. The point was that one couldn't plan for all eventualities. In the end, something always happened to destroy your plans, no matter how good and carefully laid out they were.

And that, Sangwar concluded darkly, was why you always, _always_, had a backup plan, and another for the one after it and the one after it. If you were planning on a truly large scale – like his lord was – it didn't matter if one part of the plan failed, because there were always more than enough arrangements that ensured that no real harm was done. That was something Girion had never understood, too obsessed had he been with his goal.

Halyo had been right, the older man nodded to himself. Girion had been insane, but his lord was most certainly not. His lord knew that one did not toy with dangerous beings but rather killed them as quickly as possible, and he also knew that there were other means with which one could ensure one's rule. More efficient, more civilised things like persuasion and bribery and subtle threats, or secret alliances, illusions and deception. In the latter three his liege was indeed the most skilled individual he had ever met, and most likely the most skilled individual that was residing here in Middle-earth, except maybe the Dark Lord himself.

No, he thought with a sort of quiet hope, all this would be no more than a minor inconvenience, not even a real setback. He just hoped that his liege would see it the same way. With an inward headshake he took his thoughts off that matter and returned his full attention to his surroundings, and with a last look at the city that was slowly disappearing in the distance he spurred on his horse to catch up with his companion.

A few hours later they had left Baredlen and the Ered Dhuir far behind, and even their trail was quickly swallowed up by the sleet and the snow, and no trace was left of the three horses that were steadily making their way into the direction of the Brown Lands.  
  
  
  
  
There, finally. He had been waiting for it the entire time, but now that it was happening, he was actually quite surprised.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and bit back a vicious curse – elf lords did not curse in front of other people, especially not when said people were humans – and blindly reached out with his right hand to prevent himself from falling to the floor as his strength finally gave out. His fumbling fingers closed around a dark tapestry just in time, saving the fair haired elf from a graceless fall in front of Aragorn and a couple of men that had volunteered to lead them back to the main entrance.

With a silent prayer of thanks to Ilúvatar and the Valar Glorfindel tightened his grasp on the fabric that was apparently meant to depict a battle scene or something of that sort, and while he was still thinking about how he could make this look as if he was merely leaning against the wall because he wanted to study the tapestry's design more closely, a rather bloody, slightly trembling hand appeared in front of his eyes.

The elf lord resisted the urge to ignore the appendage that had appeared out of thin air and slowly raised his eyes, finally seeing the hand's owner. As he had expected, it belonged to Aragorn who was standing next to him, swaying back and forth in a manner that reminded Glorfindel strongly of the deck of a ship at sea. Fighting down the nausea that rose inside of him at that unwanted mental image, he managed to pull himself up slightly and did his best to appear as nonchalant as an elf clinging to a tapestry could.

"Yes?"

The young man in front of him raised an eyebrow, and for a moment he looked so much like Elrond that Glorfindel did a double take. It should not be allowed that humans resembled elves to this degree, he thought darkly as he tried to push the pain in his body to the back of his mind. It was disconcerting to say the least, not to mention confusing.

Aragorn merely looked at the golden haired elf, who was looking impressively casual for someone whose upright position could only be attributed to a piece of cloth.

"May I offer you some assistance?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Why?" Glorfindel asked back nonchalantly.

'Because you look about one second away from losing consciousness,' Aragorn thought inwardly, but knew better than to voice that thought. If there was one thing that one could always count on, it was Glorfindel's pride and his unwillingness to accept help in any way.

"Oh, just a thought," he almost shrugged, but remembered what his shoulder would say to that just in time. "I am going to the courtyard and search for Legolas. And since you, and I quote, 'will not leave me out of your sight again', I thought…"

"Go on like this, Estel," Glorfindel ground out between gritted teeth, but grasped the ranger's offered hand nonetheless. "I am already cataloguing all the things I will tell your father. One thing more or less will hardly matter, don't you think so?"

"Is that so?" Aragorn asked amusedly, grasping the elf's arm and doing his best to somehow steer the two of them down the corridor into the direction the three other men had taken. He was not sure how much farther he would be able to walk, but was more than willing to try and find out.

"Oh yes," the elf nodded, knowing perfectly well that Aragorn was trying to distract him. He was devious, Glorfindel thought darkly, doing his best not to stumble. Devious, just like Elrond and the twins. He coughed softly and nodded again for emphasis. "Let's see… I think it all started with disobeying King Thranduil's orders. You continued with violating the laws of hospitality, behaving unbelievably reckless, getting yourself killed at least twice by the guards of some insane man, impaling people on _candlesticks_, disrespecting your elders…"

"Don't forget nearly being eaten by wolves," Aragorn added wryly. It took him a moment to realise what he had just said, and if he had had the chance, he would have hit himself.

Next to him Glorfindel tensed a little and arched a golden eyebrow.

"Wolves?"

"Nothing serious happened," Aragorn hurried to explain and saw to his relief that the main doors were already in sight. "It was not nearly as bad as Teonvan and his spikes."

Glorfindel froze next to him, and this time Aragorn did smack himself – not too hard, though. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Glorfindel reached out and grasped Aragorn's arm more tightly, momentarily halting the man's movements.

"Spikes? What spikes? Who is Teonvan? What are you talking about, young one?"

"Nothing," Aragorn shook his head and finally managed to pull the elf forward again. "Nothing. Don't pay me any attention."

"I try not to," the elf retorted, his eyes still fixed suspiciously on the young man. "Trust me, no amount of experience can prepare you for the likes of you or the twins."

"I resent that," Aragorn said darkly and stopped on the threshold of the main doors, blinking as light assaulted his eyes. The sleet had stopped falling for the moment, but grey clouds were still covering the heavens, even though they appeared to be of a somewhat lighter colour. Then again, he might only be imagining it. "I am not as bad as the twins."

"No," Glorfindel shook his head wryly. "You are not. You and the prince are worse."

He would have said more, but all humour fled from his mind when they stepped out of the building and into the courtyard. Most of the area was littered with fallen men, and many of them looked as if they would never get up again. The castle appeared to be firmly in the hands of Laenro's and Cendan's men, many of which could be seen searching for friends or comrades on the field below.

Glorfindel had seen such scenes many times in the past, in more places than he cared to remember, and he still hadn't got used to them. These men had had so few years ahead of them, and to see so much death and destruction and so many mortal lives cut short was something that always filled him with a deep sadness. It wasn't that he felt guilty about having killed a few of these people – it had been them or him, and besides, they had deserved it – but a part of him regretted deeply that it had come to this.

Aragorn tightened his grip on the elf's arm and began to pull him over to the stairs leading down to the courtyard. His eyes swept over the yard, looking intently for a sign of Legolas, Celylith or the others and taking in the sight in front of him. After a moment's hesitation he decided that Glorfindel needed his help now and that running off to look for his friends would help no one right now (besides, he would most likely don't even get down to the dungeons), and so he gently but firmly pressed the elf down onto the stairs. It was a testament to Glorfindel's exhaustion that he only threatened Aragorn once with a lifetime of cleaning the stables back at Rivendell and twice with dismemberment before he allowed the ranger press him down onto the stone steps.

Aragorn suppressed a smug grin at his success that he knew Glorfindel would never forgive him and tried to decide what to do next. He knew that he should do something, but the pain and exhaustion that was pulsing through his body made it nearly impossible to think. Before he even knew what was happening, he was sitting next to Glorfindel, and while he was still trying to explain to himself just when his legs had developed a mind of their own and had decided that he needed to sit down, someone stepped in front of him.

It took Aragorn quite a long time to realise that that someone had one of his hands on his uninjured shoulder, having used it to press him down next to Glorfindel, and even longer to identify the man as Menvan. The middle-sized man frowned darkly at him and the fair haired elf, about the most expressive display of emotion he had ever seem him on his face.

"Stay here," he told Aragorn and shortly shifted his eyes to Glorfindel. "Both of you. I'll get a healer."

"A healer?" Aragorn echoed unbelievingly, squinting up at Menvan's blurry face. It appeared that the man's face had turned brown while his hair had assumed the colour of his face – a highly unusual behaviour in his opinion. "Whatever for?"

Glorfindel nodded emphatically next to him, and Menvan merely looked at the two beings in front of him before he snorted and turned around. He began walking down the stairs leading into the courtyard, grumbling something about irritating elves, even more irritating rangers and his overwhelming desire to hurt both, and Glorfindel blinked twice (which gave him a rather disconcerting resemblance with a blond, rather plucked and bloody owl) before he slowly turned his head to look at Aragorn who was examining the bleeding wound in his shoulder.

"I don't think he is very happy with you, Estel," he informed the man loftily. "Just where did you find him and the rest of his men anyway?"

"Well," Aragorn retorted absent-mindedly, his eyes still fixed on his injury. "He is the second-in-command of the man who was the first lieutenant of the captain whose men captured Legolas."

The man paused, re-thinking what he had just said. Second-in-command of the first lieutenant of the captain. Yes, that sounded about right. If Glorfindel was in any way confused by his words, he did not show it, however. Then again, Aragorn thought, irrational laughter bubbling inside of him, elf lords did not show confusion in front of others, did they?

"He is one of them?" Glorfindel asked sharply, his eyes narrowing in a way that did not bode very well for Menvan's immediate future. "Well, if that's not … interesting."

"My friend," Aragorn sighed deeply, "Believe me, he…"

He did not manage to finish his sentence, for his attention was directed to three figures that were just emerging to their left, stepping out of the door leading down to the dungeons. Aragorn squinted despite the relatively low light and did his best to ignore the faint feeling that was beginning to spread inside of him. Please, let it be Legolas and Celylith, please, let it be Legolas and Celylith, please…

A moment later relief flooded through his entire being, and he began to smile broadly, feeling as if not only one, but at least a dozen huge stones had been lifted off his chest. Even though his eyes weren't overly co-operative at the moment, he had no problem identifying Legolas' lithe figure among the other two. The elven prince seemed to have acquired several new wounds since he had last seen him, including a torn left forearm and a large cut on the same, and he also looked a lot like a person who had just fallen head first into a pot of red paint. Legolas stumbled more than walked, even though that was something the elf would most certainly not admit, and, as a whole, looked about as lively and healthy as Glorfindel.

The man felt how the smile on his lips widened even more as his eyes reluctantly identified the person Legolas was keeping upright. He had never thought that he would be so happy to see that stubborn wood-elf again, he thought to himself, grinning like a maniac at Celylith's approaching figure. Said wood-elf appeared to have got on the wrong side of an ill-tempered but well-armed mountain troll, with his numerous cuts and bruises and the definitely dislocated shoulder, but he was alive, even thought apparently only one step away from unconsciousness, something that could probably also be said about Legolas.

Aragorn was too exhausted to try and stand up and merely remained where he was, scanning the two elves for additional, hidden injuries. A few seconds later the two elves came to a stop in front of them, flanked by the third person that Aragorn identified (rather late, he admitted to himself) as Cendan, who looked relatively uninjured. The lieutenant merely nodded at Aragorn, gave Glorfindel a brief look and turned around to find his second-in-command, apparently considering his duty done.

For a few moments, the four merely looked at each other, and Aragorn finally opened his mouth to speak, giving Legolas a disapproving look.

"So you finally managed to tear my stitches."

"And you managed to acquire yet another hole," the blond elf retorted in just the same tone of voice. "Well done, _ dúnadan_."

"Thank you, I'm doing what I can, elf."

"That I can see. You really are quite intent on getting yourself killed, aren't you?"

"And you two," Glorfindel grumbled quite audibly, "are beginning to give me a headache."

Aragorn and Legolas gave each other a last mock glare that couldn't conceal the relief in their eyes before the elven prince redirected his attention to the elf lord in front of him. He inclined his head while he carefully lowered his silver haired friend down onto the stairs.

"Forgive us, my lord. I am very glad to see that you still live – and that after a fight at Strider's side. I am most impressed."

Aragorn ignored the elf's words and shifted slightly in an attempt to get closer to the silver haired elf in order to examine his injuries.

"Celylith?" he asked softly. "Are you…"

"Awake?" the elf asked wryly. "Barely, I think. I am not completely sure about it, but I doubt that I would dream about you, Strider."

"No," Legolas interjected ironically as he allowed himself to sink down onto the stairs next to Celylith. "You usually dream about pretty maidens, especially that one from…"

"No tormenting my patients, please," Aragorn scolded the elven prince.

"I agree," Glorfindel nodded at the young ranger who was feebly trying to assert the elf's injuries before he turned to the younger elf. "You realise what our continued survival means, do you not? You owe me that pair of daggers you were talking about, _pen-neth_. I told you everything would be just fine, didn't I?"

"You, my friend, are _not _'fine'," Aragorn interrupted the two elves and raised his head wearily. "None of you is."

Glorfindel thought about denying the man's accusation, but in that moment he shifted slightly and moved his left shoulder in the process. All thoughts of insisting that he was perfectly alright disappeared from his mind as hot pain flared through his broken collarbone, and suddenly speaking seemed to be an overrated, highly unnecessary commodity. Legolas seemed to think about protesting as well, but he gave his own, blood-covered appearance a quick look and apparently thought better of it.

Legolas watched Aragorn's rather clumsy attempts to determine the amount of Celylith's injury – which only fuelled the worry in his heart, because Aragorn was the un-clumsiest human he had ever known – and finally turned his attention to Glorfindel, who looked just like someone who had just fallen down a very, very high cliff.

"What about Girion, my lord? Did he escape?"

Glorfindel blinked, his face of an even fairer colour than his hair.

"No," he shook his head. "No, he did not. He is dead."

Legolas nodded, not appearing surprised in the slightest.

"Laenro?"

Glorfindel nodded, and Aragorn's head snapped up, a tense expression on his face that was quickly followed by a swiftly hidden wince of pain.

"What about Teonvan? And Glamir?"

Legolas simply shook his head, a rather satisfied expression on his face, and Aragorn relaxed minutely.

"Good," he unknowingly echoed Legolas' earlier words. He looked from the elven prince to Celylith and back, arching an amused eyebrow. "Tell me, my friend, what happened to the two of you? You look as if you'd found that fire-breathing dragon after all!"

Celylith may have been well on his way into unconsciousness, but the mention of a fascinating creature that may be in need of sympathy was enough to rouse him.

"A dragon?" he asked weakly, prying open his eyelids with a struggle. "Here? Where?"

"It is only a joke," Legolas said quickly, glaring at Aragorn who was either too busy or too exhausted to notice. "There is no dragon here, neither of the fire-breathing nor of any other kind – I think."

"You think?" Celylith repeated, curiosity appearing in his dark blue eyes. "So there might be!"

Legolas hung his head and fought the urge to do what his body wanted him to, namely to simply lean back and allow himself to go to sleep.

"See what you've done, Estel."

"See what _you _have done!" an outraged voice could be heard some paces to their right, and Legolas closed his eyes tightly, wishing himself to be far, far away from here. He concentrated as firmly as he could on losing consciousness, but try as he might, he was not able to. Typical, he thought darkly. When you needed to pass out, you couldn't.

When Legolas finally realised that he would stay conscious for some time longer, he reluctantly opened his eyes, and decided a split second later that he had been wrong after all. There _was _ a dragon here, and it was marching into their direction with a thunderous expression on its face, an air of appalled reproach surrounding it. The elf would nearly have closed his eyes again. It was a strange thing that he had been less afraid of Teonvan, Girion and Glamir than of Thesieni when she was in a bad mood.

The grey haired woman picked her way through the courtyard, nodding once or twice at some other healers who had arrived from the town to help the fallen men. Sero was walking a few steps in front of her, looking very much as if he wanted to become part of the scenery, no matter how bloody.

"Just look at you!" Thesieni told the ranger and the three elves, two of which looked wide-eyed and astonished at the irate woman. "I told you this was a foolish idea, didn't I? It's a miracle that you didn't get yourselves cut into pieces. It would have served you right, mind you!"

Aragorn had a lot of experience ignoring someone's outraged tirades, but even if he hadn't, he wouldn't have paid the elderly healer any attention at all. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the two tall figures that were following the woman, wearing identical dark cloaks with thrown back hoods and just as identical expressions of reproach on their faces. One was leaning heavily on the other and was wearing a thick white bandage around his head that hid most of his almost black hair and his pointed ears, while the other, whose dark hair and ears were plainly visible, was as pale as a sheet and moved decidedly stiffly.

The young ranger smiled broadly, the pain, fear and stress of the last few weeks falling away from him as if they had never existed. He should have known that the twins wouldn't stay where he had left them. None save maybe their grandmother and sometimes their father had ever stood up to them in an argument, and not even Thesieni had stood a chance, it appeared.

The two dark haired elves were coming slowly closer, their eyes wandering over the chaotic courtyard in an appraising manner, and Aragorn felt how Glorfindel and Legolas relaxed as well, even despite Thesieni who was currently busy examining Celylith's shoulder and telling all of them just what she would do to the next elf she met. A part of him was furious that the twins hadn't heeded his wishes, but a larger part was just glad to see them alive and, relatively speaking, well.

A few moments later, Elladan and Elrohir came to halt in front of the stairs, looking very much as if they had just had an encounter with something huge and prone to violence. The two of them looked at the four beings in front of them who all appeared to be only a minute away from unconsciousness, relief shining brightly in their grey eyes that were clouded with barely suppressed pain. Elrohir leaned a bit harder onto his brother's supporting arm and arched an amused eyebrow.

  
"So," he began, his eyes wandering over the corpses in the courtyard and the people hastening to and fro, "Did we miss anything important?"  
  
  
  
  
  
**TBC...**

  
  
  
  
  
_mellon nín - my friend  
Daro. E ú farn beleg boe degich chon - Stop (it). He (is) not important enough for you to kill.  
Leitho chon, hîr nín. Nestatham - Let him go, my lord. We will heal.  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger  
pen-neth - young one_

  
  
  
  
**sighs happily So, the bad guys are all dead. Serves them right, too. And I didn't kill Celylith after all, isn't that nice? Very much so, I think... g So, this insane little tale is nearing its end now, meaning that there is only one chapter left! Yes, I know, it's hard to believe... Be that as it may, it WILL be here, most likely in a week. I'll try to get it out Tuesday, but I am not promising anything. Reviews might help, just as they helped to get this chapter out a day earlier. g So: Review? Please?**

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**Additional A/N:**

**LOTRFaith** - Well, things like those usually don't happen to me, that's just it. I hate it when stories get out of hand. I mean, I had planned 30-32 chapters anyway, so one more isn't that bad, but still... grrr It's my characters' fault, I'm telling you. They just can't keep their mouths shut. g No, you can't have Cendan now. In fact, I don't think you can have him at all. I only clone dead characters, like Nólad from AEFAE, and Cendan's isn't dead - yet- evil grin Sorry.  
**Sirithiliel** - LOL, well "Yay" sure does sound cheerful! Great you still like it, and thanks for telling me!  
**Aratfeniel** - Uhm, yes, we're all insane here. That does in fact explain quite a lot. g It's great to see that there are other people who enjoy cackling madly as well. There's nothing quite as amusing as cackling madly, isn't it! Most certainly! tuns off cackling VERY madly  
**AngelMouse5** - I know, I know. I need a new hobby. 38 pages is a bit extreme for anyone... g Hmm, now that I think about it I have to admit that I have absolutely no idea with what Glorfindel threatened Aragorn. You could always ask him personally, I guess... And about the reviews: I am extremely surprised myself, believe me! I never thought I'd get more than 1100 or so... g  
**Bailey** - Let me see, what's wrong with posting double chapters... You would start to get bored. It would be too much to take in at once. Besides, I would have to edit two chapters at once, and that's something for which I definitely don't have the time. g This isn't the last chapter though, there's one more to come. I'm sure Aragorn and Legolas and all the others will be thrilled. g  
**Deana** - blinks Glorfindel is half-dead, Aragorn is full of holes, Legolas has cuts and God knows what, Ethoani is dead, Celylith may be, and all you worry about is Legolas' head? shakes her own Really... Trust me, he has other problems at the moment - loads of them, to be honest...  
**Cosmic Castaway** - Yes indeed, what have I got up my sleeve... squirrel pokes head out of shirt sleeve Uhm, get back, I wasn't talking about you... g Just ignore me, it's been a weird day. Thanks for the flowers, btw. And the grenade. I thought it was quite pretty too - until it exploded, of course... g  
**Someone Reading** - I hope is back where it belongs by now. I did not intend to cause you or anyone else any lasting physical damage. g As I said in the A/N, I am indeed planning another story, but I doubt it will be here in the next two months or so. Sorry. g I am, however, very glad that you liked this one so far!  
**Falling Star** - Yeah, you're right, Legolas sure took his time! He just didn't want to fire that arrow, honestly, I had to force him to. shakes head Stupid wood-elf. Thank you, btw! Finally, someone who agrees that the chapter would have been too long if I hadn't split it! LOL, I wouldn't exactly say that I saved lives, though. I mean, it's not that bad, is it? I guess it would be best if you didn't answer that question... g  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - Yup, they ARE idiots. That doesn't really surprise you, does it? I mean, it really shouldn't. I'm sorry, though, you may not adopt Cendan. He is quite happy where he is at the moment, and I only clone dead OCs. Since he isn't dead (at least not yet) I will keep him, sorry. I might need him in another story, after all. And I DID manage to update a day sooner! Yay me! g  
**Elvendancer** - Wow, your week really does sound busy. I'm sorry I didn't manage to update yesterday, but today is better than Thursday, right? hopeful look LOL, no, I guess it's not your fault that I'm still stuck here in college - unless you have an interesting relationship with our Chancellor of which I or the public was unaware. I really hope not. g Don't worry about being insane, btw. We're ALL mad here.   
**Crippled Raven** - I know, I know. pats her back FF.net takes away all the things you love - I hate it too. I'd join that club of yours in a second. LOL, you really did that? Look for Celylith, I mean? Well, that's most certainly flattering - for me, that is. For you it's rather worrying... g You could always write PJ and ask him to put him into the Extended Edition of ROTK - even though I have the feeling that he wouldn't. Don't ask me why. g And yes, all this did indeed happen in Robin Hood. I just couldn't resists. I had been planning that scene for months. Don't tell me, I'm mad. g Oh, you can breathe with broken ribs, unless they're really badly broken and poke into your lungs or other fun things like that. It just hurts like hell. g LOL, what? Ethoani's death scene was a family death scene? Well, that's an interesting way of saying it... Once again worrying, but interesting. g  
**Yuuki Ryuu** - Uhm, yes, but it's only a tiny bit of trouble. Nothing serious at all. g Well, yes, Celylith - he is in a less dead state, don't worry. He's not exactly well or anything like that, but he's not completely dead. I think. g About my name: That's actually a problem. I have no idea how an English-speaking person would pronounce my name, and since it's only a nickname I never told any of my English friends about it. So, this is the way we here pronounce it: [n ı: l ı:], or something like Neelee. Yeah, well, it IS only a nickname. shrugs  
**Alasse Tiwele** - Are you saying I chose an inopportune moment? Why, I am hurt! I quite liked the ending ... then again, I am evil, so I guess it doesn't really count. g Oh dear. Do you really have to wait a whole weak now? I am so sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to torment you like that. Honestly. g  
**Snow-Glory - **I didn't really think any of you would mind an extra chapter either. It's more that it bothers me when I lose control over the plot. shrugs I'm a bit strange, I know. LOL, you're right, Legolas and Cendan just might be long-lost relatives. One as unlucky as the other... g And it may really take some time 'til the next story comes out, but that's more because I will be quite busy than because I need a break from writing. I am looking forward to not writing, mind you, but it's going to last for a week. sighs I just can't stop. It's all Legolas' and Aragorn's fault. I don't know how, but I'm sure it is. g  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - You hate my alter ego? Why? Any who is Sarah? I really don't understand though, my alter ego is actually quite nice. I mean, yes, she's evil and sadistic, but quite amusing as well - from time to time, at least. g My muse doesn't have a name, but I think that it's more or less my own humour. I never can keep my mouth shut either. Then again, who can? No one I know. g  
**TrustingFriendship** - Yes, it was quite sad that she died. But it was rather obvious that she would, at least I think so. The zealots always do, at least in my stories. g Nice to hear that you approve of the extra chapter! Thanks a lot for reviewing!  
**Karone Evertree** - Hmm**, **now that I think about it, I have no idea how much men a continget is. I think about ten would be right. It doesn't really matter I think, since the poor contingent is rather dead as I write this. Villains really don't have a very high life-expectancy, huh? g   
**Firnsarnien - **I know you wanted him to find Celylith. There was nothing I could do, really. He'll find him this chapter. Deal? Hmm, Aragorn won't really have time to come to Legolas' rescue, he's rather ... busy at the moment. Plus, he's at the other side of the building. Poor Legolas will have to deal with the situation all on his own... evil grin You really thought I'd let her live? shrugs Well, I thought it had been rather obvious that she wouldn't survive. Sorry about that. LOL, no, biting your acrylic nails can't be good for your health, I agree! Here's the next chapter!   
**Shauna** - I rendered you speechless? Whohoo! Go me! g I didn't kill Ethoani because of you though, honestly, I did not. She was meant to die from the beginning, even though I was tempted to kill Laenro as well, I'll admit that. And Thesieni is still alive. So are some females in my last story, I think, aren't they? LOL, so it would be predictable if I killed Celylith? Nice try - not bad, not bad at all... g   
**CrazyLOTRfan** - I have to admit that I didn't really count them. So, if you say it were three cliffies, I believe you. You are an expert, after all. g It's great to hear that you 'liked' the death scene. I was quite sad myself - even though not nearly as sad as about Galalith's death. Out of some reason I don't know myself I was really crying there... shrugs Well, we all knew I am weird, didn't we? You're right about Arwen, of course. We females can get people angry a lot more quicker than men. Poor them. g You people with your elf and ranger torture! You should be ashamed of yourselves, really. But you won't, I know... g  
**Chip** - g Well, that looked like a nice little celebration! Nice to see that you liked the last chapter and Glorfindel's rescue - you didn't really think I would kill him, did you? I would be far too afraid of what Elrond would do to me to even think about something like that... g Oh, one last thing: May I ask who "Dale" is?  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Uhm, yes, I guess you could say that. Since I am evil it's only logical that my chapter are evil as well, hm? evil grin Hey, calling Cendan an "honourable bad guy" is just accurate since that's what he is. He's certainly not a good guy and doesn't even like them, but he has his own sense of honour. huggles him I love him too, I don't know why either. And yes, Teonvan WILL die this chapter. About time too, I know. g   
**Bookworm, .303** - Hmm, let me think. No, they don't learn. They're stupid, that's why. g You want Celylith to be okay? Well, I think we should start by defining the term "okay". You see, there are many different way to interpret it... evil grin  
**Jera** - I have the nagging suspicion that FF.net ate a part of your review. If it did not, ignore that comment. g And I know that you wouldn't really be bothered by 50 chapters, but I think I would go insane. I am very glad that it's over now, since I was beginning to fear that I would never be able to end it. It's rather scary sometimes, really. g It's so great to hear that you like the fight scenes. It helps a little that my brother fenced when he was younger and I went to a lot of his tournaments. It was foil fencing, when he was quite a lot younger actually, but I assumed that a broadsword isn't all that different. looks at the two weapons Well, yes, maybe it is, but still. g I was very suprised to see your review; how did you manage to get your hands on a computer so early? g  
**Kathleen LaCorneille** - Hmm, Cliffy Queen is better than Queen Nili. I wouldn't want to be a queen for anything in the world. In fact, you could pay me and I still wouldn't want to. g Well, I didn't want Legolas to hit the rope properly the first time. He was injured and all that, and besides, it would have been a real cliché, wouldn't it? I hope your heart is okay though. g So you forgot about Caellan, huh? Yes, I thought quite a few of you would; that was the whole point, actually. Besides, I was running out of evil dudes to kill. It's sad but true. g It's nice to hear that you liked the chapter, I hope you'll enjoy this one as well!  
**Marbienl** - Yeah, I like 33 as well. Not quite as good as 32, but acceptable enough. g About Aragorn calling Glorfindel 'lord': I've always thought that in ME people weren't quite as informal as they are often portrayed in stories. For example, Celylith calls Legolas "lord" and "prince" and all that as well, and Elladan and Elrohir too. That may also be because their status is higher than his, of course, but I always thought that yes, Glorfindel is something like a friend of the family, but he's still a millennia old elf lord who deserves - and demands - the respect that he's due. shrugs I really can't explain it very well. Hmm, I could do a buried alive thing. The coffin wouldn't work - how likely is that, were not writing a James Bond story after all! - but snow... Hmm, not for a while then. It's springtime now! g Oh, and I don't know about Legolas' skull. I guess he has a bad concussion, but no skull fracture. He's been lucky for once, I guess. g  
**Celebdil-galad Tinlaure** - I don't work for Sauron, BUT I have sold my soul to the devil. It might be connected to that... g I am very glad you like Celylith, of course. I am sure the CLF will be delighted if you join. They should have quite a lot of members by now... You can of course sent me that email if you want to. I just doubt that I'll be able to help you at all, since I have already problems with my own stories. But I promise you that I'll try. g  
**Nietta** - Wow! The sentence was very nice! Almost correct, too! You missed a "have" and some other small things, but other than that... g And is it really so bad? I was kind of hoping it wouldn't be, because The Prisoner of Azkaban is my favourite too! And I love Sirius, but that's another story... g I'm sure that The Dreaded Science Test wasn't (or will be) that bad. You'll get your DVD, you'll see. LOL, I agree, knowing that you're about to die unless Aragorn and Legolas save you isn't exactly what I would call a pleasant experience... g Your prediction isn't bad, btw. Not entirely correct, of course (it wouldn't be interesting otherwise, huh?), but not bad. g Yeah, well, I will simply not watch the movie and try to forget what they've done to Homer's work. I'll manage that way - I hope.  
**Iccle Fairy** - Oh, you don't have to apologise for reviewing twice! Feel free to review as many times as you like! g It's always nice to hear that someone likes my fight scenes. They're not all that easy to write, after all. g And I think Glorfindel decided to stay at Aragorn's side mainly because Elrond would have his head if he didn't. Poor elf lord. I hope you and Bob will like this new chapter!  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Yeah, I am looking forward to the Ext. Version as well. Mainly because I really didn't like that movie all that much. I just hope they put in as many of the really important scenes as possible. As much as I enjoy watching Frodo and Sam climb of that bloody mountain, I still think it would have been more important to include a few scenes Tolkien actually wrote. shrugs Hey, that's just me. And now I'm really jealous. You are going to Hawaii? I've always wanted to go there. Who knows, maybe I even will. I hope you'll have lots of fun! Just calm down and repeat after me: "This is just a story, it's not real" You should be fine after a few times. g   
**Alariel** - Well, yes, poor Laenro, I agree. He's not a very happy camper at the moment... LOL, you're right, of course. "Okay" is a very relative term at the moment, for any of them. g Hmm, the fire-breathing dragon ... let's just say that there will be some scenes about it, if not exactly with it. After all: There IS no fire-brathing dragon. I hope. It would make everything even more complicated... And have a cookie! hands her cookie You DID spell his name correctly!  
**Grumpy** - Ah yes, don't worry about Laenro killing people. He'll get his chance. g Your summary is rather accurate, did you know that? They're all in various kinds of trouble - which really doesn't surprise anyone, does it? Well, it doesn't surprise me. g  
**SeventhSpanishAngel12** - Congratulations on finding your way back here. Knowing FF.net, it can't have been easy. grimances This site hates me and my stories, I swear it does. You don't have to criticise, of course. g It's just nice if someone tells me when I made a mistake or used a wrong term or something like that. If you can't find any mistakes, I'm very glad indeed. g Thanks a lot for reviewing!

**And, once again, thanks a lot for all the reviews! Only one more chapter to go (sad, I know sniffs), so stay tuned!**


	33. Battles Lost And Won

**Disclaimer:** For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.  
  
  
**A/N:  
  
Yes, I do realise that this is a little late. There were a number of things preventing me from updating sooner, among them an incredibly uncooperative, broken dishwasher and the fact that I locked myself out of our flat yesterday (I had to wait over three hours till 10:30 pm. till someone saw it fit to let me in! grrrr), but I don't think I'll go into details. I don't want to bore you all to death, after all. g Suffice to say that I'm sorry. I really am. apologetic smile  
  
Well, we've once again reached the last chapter. It's hard to believe, really - I thought the characters would never shut up! They've been really bad this time, I think they've figured out how much that annoys me... dark look at assorted elves and ranger Ah well. They deserve a little fun as well, I guess. g   
  
Speaking about fun: The next story. As I said, I am indeed planning to write a sequel to this, which won't be here for some time though, I'm afraid. I really have no idea when I'll find the time, but I really wouldn't expect it before end of July or something like that. dodges heavy objects Yes, yes, I KNOW that's evil and sadistic and a number of other things, but I really don't have the time right now. For a few more details about the sequel to the sequel to the sequel of the story** **(g), read more after the chapter. Well, essentially it's the name and not much more, but...  
The good thing is, however, that there will be a short story before that. Yay! It will most likely be posted around the 13th of July (questioning look at Marbienl Did I get that right?), and doesn't have a name yet. It's just a little story including Aragorn, Legolas and a troll, so keep an eye out for it.  
  
Two last things: I didn't think it necessary, but since I've been asked a lot of times now whether the next story will include Lord Súliat and his delegates, I think I should make this clear. So, I'll say this very slowly and carefully: Súliat - is - Saruman. Okay? I don't think I will put him into a story, especially since his treachery wasn't discovered before III, 3018, which is still a bit in the future. g   
And the second thing: There won't be any Elrond in this story, sorry. There was no way I could get them from Baredlen to Mirkwood to Rivendell in one chapter, and I somehow doubt that the Lord of Rivendell will run off headlessly to Mirkwood even though he knows perfectly well that he won't be able to help anyone. shrugs That's my interpretation, so feel free to criticise me.  
  
  
Well, enough talking, here is the last chapter, which might even be the longest. I don't really know, I've stopped counting the pages - it's too depressing. g So, we have a little discussion between a certain blond elf and Aragorn, receive even more proof that Celylith is completely and utterly mad, see a bit more of Cendan, Sero and the others, we find out what happened to Anardir (yup, I didn't forget about him!) and they get back to Mirkwood. Yes, I think that's about it. g  
  
Enjoy and review, please!**

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Chapter 33   
  
  
Aragorn was sitting on the edge of his bed, possessing neither the desire nor, in fact, enough strength to get up and leave the room. It was a beautiful morning, but that fact only infused him with new determination to stay here and not put a foot out of his room.   
  
The man sighed softly, allowing himself to sink backwards, back onto the heap of blankets that covered the mattress he was sitting on. His bound ribs and the rest of his numerous injuries complained fiercely against that movements, but that was something the ranger had learned to live with. It wasn't as much the weakness in his body that prevented any decisive actions on his part – even though he was still rather exhausted, even after more than a day of bed rest.   
  
Aragorn inwardly shook his head. It was hard to believe that only one and a half days had passed since they had begun to set Legolas' exceedingly stupid plan into motion (he was still positively astonished that it had worked in the end, at least more or less). Neither he nor any of his friends or family had been awake for most of the first day, which was really not all that surprising. Both Legolas and Celylith and Glorfindel and his brothers had looked so bad that Aragorn had firmly expected them to sleep for several days in a row, elven recuperative powers or not.   
  
After Thesieni had dragged them back to Laenro's house and had drugged those of them who hadn't already lost consciousness in the first place, it had taken Sero, Cendan and his men most of the remaining day and even quite a long part of the next one to get the entire city under their control. The fear of the people had turned into open hatred and violence, and till yesterday evening the guards had had trouble prevent angry mobs from burning the houses of prominent councilmen and high-ranking officers.   
  
Then again, the man thought wryly, he was rather sure that the guards and Laenro's men had rather often … well, forgotten how to get to the scene of a fire or a riot. He couldn't really blame them, of course; after more than a hundred and fifty years of living under Girion's and his ancestors' rule he'd have the urge to burn something as well. Yesterday the smoke from the fires had been visible even from his window, but today he hadn't seen anything yet.   
  
He hoped that wouldn't change either. He had no idea what would happen to this town now, but something he did know was that it wouldn't help anyone if one half of the populace kept burning down the property of the other half – no matter how much that second half might deserve it. Now that he thought about it, the relative order and quiet that hung over the city didn't surprise him all that much. He was rather sure that Cendan wouldn't look kindly on anyone who disobeyed his orders to behave civilly and respect law and order, no matter if it were his own men, Laenro's or any other people.   
  
So, he concluded, he was neither afraid that a wild mob would burst into the house to burn it down if he left his room, nor was he particularly weak. Well, Aragorn amended reluctantly when a small voice at the back of his mind started to roar with laughter at that though, at least he was _exceedingly _weak. Yes, he did have a multitude of holes in various parts of his body, yes, his ribs felt as if someone very big and heavy had sat down on them, and yes, he had a purple-greenish ring of bruises covering his throat (just like Legolas), but he had felt worse – at least he thought so. He could stand and even walk unaided, which was a huge improvement to two days ago.   
  
No, he thought darkly, the real reason for his reluctance to leave the small room was the date. Today was the first of March and therefore his twenty-third birthday. He had always been somewhat anxious on his birthdays, but because of different reasons than now.   
  
When he had been younger, especially during the first few years after he had been brought to Rivendell, he had always been afraid that his newly adopted family would forget his birthday, since it was the only true _birthday_ that was celebrated in Imladris. He had soon learned that elves didn't celebrate birthdays; they celebrated the day on which they had been begotten. Since elven pregnancies lasted for almost exactly a year, an elf's begetting day was also his or her birthday, but the event that was celebrated was the conception, not the birth as such.   
  
As a child he had always feared that his elven friends and family would confuse his birthday with his begetting day or something of the like, even though that had never happened, of course. Now he wasn't afraid that Elladan and Elrohir or any of his friends would have forgotten his birthday – which they hadn't, he was sure about it. He hadn't seen much of either the twins or Legolas and the others, but he was certain that he hadn't imagined the conspiratorial sparkle in their eyes which Celylith had been unable to conceal. Legolas and the twins had acted just as they always did when they were being forced to remain somewhere where they didn't want to be (in this case, in their beds), but the silver haired wood-elf hadn't been quite as successful.   
  
Aragorn shook his head firmly and contemplated pulling a blanket over his head. No, they were up to something, which, under normal circumstances, wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest. The only problem was that there was not even the tiniest bit of festive mood left in him at the moment; all such emotions had drained out of him, the deaths of Girion and his men and the fact that they were all alive and relatively well notwithstanding. He wasn't exactly depressed, but the last thing he wanted to do now was to accept well-wishes and listen to jokes about him growing up so fast.   
  
He was still contemplating this when the door opened without as much as a creak, and this time Aragorn did pull the blanket over his head. Apart from the fact that it was rather cold in the room – something that happened quite often if you let the fire go out, a soft voice in his head scolded him – it just might convince whoever had entered the room that he was asleep. He almost snorted at that thought. Just whom was he trying to convince of that?   
  
Soft, almost inaudible footsteps drew closer to his bed and stopped next to him, and Aragorn sighed inwardly. He knew these footsteps, and he would personally eat the blanket that covering most of his face if the person standing next to him would just leave like that.  
  
The person in question did indeed not leave and merely remained where he was, until, after some moments, he finally spoke, amusement and a small amount of worry detectable in the clear voice that could be heard.   
  
"Oh, but you can do better than this, Aragorn."   
  
The man didn't give any outward reaction and stubbornly kept his eyes closed, wishing his fair haired friend onto the peak of Caradhras or to a comparably remote location.   
  
There was a short silence that was finally interrupted by the sound of softly rustling clothes, and a moment later Aragorn felt how his elven visitor sat down on the edge of his bed. The seconds trickled by, and finally the ranger growled inwardly. He was slowly beginning to believe what many people said, namely that the elven race was the most annoying of them all.   
  
"If you think that I am going to leave just because you pretend to be asleep, think again, young one."   
  
Yes, Aragorn thought darkly. Elves _ were_ the most annoying race on all of Arda.   
  
"And if you think that I am going to stop pretending to be asleep just because you are staring at me, it is you who should think again, my friend."   
  
"Ah yes," the elf retorted, sounding definitely amused now, and Aragorn could almost see the raised eyebrows. "You always were a stubborn one, just like the rest of your family."   
  
The blanket was pulled back, causing the man to finally open his eyes with a softly spoken curse. Just why couldn't they leave him alone for once?   
"Alright," he grumbled irritably. "You have succeeded, I'm awake. May I suggest that you leave again so that I can go back to sleep?"   
  
The blond elf seemed to think about it for a moment and then shook his head.   
"No, Estel, I am sorry. You are expected downstairs."   
  
Aragorn slowly sat up, wincing as that movement jarred his injuries. He took a few deep breaths and carefully leaned back against the headboard of his narrow bed.   
"I am not in the mood, Glorfindel," he told the elf.   
  
"I know," the golden haired elf nodded, and moved his left, bandaged arm the tiniest bit. "But you need it, and so do the others."   
  
"Glorfindel," Aragorn began. "I am _not _in the mood, and neither are the twins or Legolas. They only plan something to cheer me up."   
  
"Exactly," the elf nodded again. "But they also do this because they want to cheer themselves up, even though they may not know it themselves. And that is the reason why you will go down there and at least try to enjoy the honey-cakes they have bribed that dragon of a healer to get for you."   
  
"Honey-cakes?" the ranger asked. "How in the name of the One did they manage that?" Glorfindel only shrugged, and a moment later the amused expression disappeared from the man's face and he shook his head again. "More people than I can count have been killed in the past few days, not to mention Galalith and perhaps even Anardir. _I _have killed more people than I can count – people, Glorfindel, _Men_."   
  
The young man took a deep breath, his eyes darkening until they resembled a dark sky covered with heavy grey clouds.  
  
"They were all men like me, my friend. Not orcs, or goblins, or uruks or any other servants of the Dark Lord, but humans. I can still remember the face of every man I have killed two days ago, did you know that? I know that I didn't have any other choice and only did what I had to protect myself and my friends, but that doesn't make it any easier."   
  
"It's not supposed to," the elf shook his head slowly. "The day it becomes easy to kill a man is the day your soul dies, young one. That you mourn their deaths honours you, Estel, but you were mistaken in one regard: They were not men like you. They were nothing like you."   
  
"No," Aragorn shook his head as well, irony and bitterness in his eyes, "No, they were not. Most of them were merely frightened out of their wits and too afraid of their lord to disobey him, even if that meant losing their lives."   
  
"You may be right," Glorfindel replied earnestly. "Yet that doesn't change anything. They were afraid, you are right, but that doesn't change that they had the chance to choose what to do. No," he raised his hand and interrupted the man who had been about to speak, "let me finish, please. Maybe you are right, and they didn't have the choice before all this started, but in the end they did. Most of their officers were dead to begin with, and they would have had the chance to change sides or to walk away from the fight; you know that neither you nor any of Cendan's guards would have pursued them."   
  
The fair haired elf shook his head, sadness flickering over his face.   
"You certainly are correct, Aragorn, they _were _frightened. But they allowed that fear to dictate their actions, even when they had the chance to save their lives. There is nothing you could have done differently, young one. You did what you had to do, and if you hadn't, I wouldn't be here to have this conversation."   
  
"Now wouldn't that be a shame," Aragorn muttered wryly.   
  
"Indeed it would be," Glorfindel smiled smugly, totally ignoring the sarcasm that had coloured the man's words. "It would truly be a pity if I didn't have the chance to share my wisdom with young ones such as yourself."   
  
"Oh yes," Aragorn nodded, displaying a rather false smile. "A terrible tragedy." He fell silent for a few moments before he raised his head again, a stubborn sparkle in his eyes that Glorfindel had seen often enough in Elrond's to groan inwardly. "I thank you for your words, my lord, but I am still not in the mood to celebrate."   
  
"That hardly matters," Glorfindel retorted evenly. "It is not about what you want, but what you _need_."   
  
"If you say something like 'It is only for your own good, young one', I am afraid I will have to hurt you."   
  
"I was not intending to," the elf shook his head, a small sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He paused for a moment before he spoke again, all mirth disappearing from his eyes in an instant. "Do you know how much the twins slept during the nine days it took us to get here?"   
  
Aragorn blinked in surprise, slightly taken aback by the sudden change of topic.   
"No."   
  
"About fifteen or sixteen hours," Glorfindel answered expressionlessly. "They were out of their minds with worry. I do not think I have seen them so afraid or anxious since … since their mother was taken in the mountains."   
  
The young man hung his head. If Glorfindel was trying to make him feel even more miserable, then the elf lord was succeeding quite nicely.   
"I am sorry," he began haltingly. "I … I didn't mean to worry any of you, I swear, I just…"   
  
"I know," the golden haired elf said softly and placed a finger under the young man's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "I know you didn't, and I am not trying to accuse you of any ill intent whatsoever. I understand why you had to follow Legolas, and I just might have done the same if our positions had been reversed."   
  
He smiled at the ranger and let go of his chin.   
"What I am trying to say is that, for more than a week, Elladan and Elrohir thought you to be dead. We all knew that you had been captured when we found that camp in the woods, and ever since then the twins feared to find your corpse somewhere. We didn't know why the prince had been taken, but it was clear that the men needed him. They didn't need you."   
  
"No," Aragorn agreed. "If Legolas hadn't been injured when I found him, I doubt that they would have let me live either. Reran wasn't one to take unneeded baggage with him."   
  
"Yes," Glorfindel nodded. "We had come to that conclusion as well. They thought they had been too late – again," the elf stressed quietly. "They thought all they would be able to do was to bring back your body to your father, knowing that they had failed him yet again. I know," he interrupted Aragorn before he could speak the words that were on the tip of his tongue, "I know that it wouldn't have been their fault, just like the Lady Celebrían's fate was not theirs to change. But in their hearts they still believe it, and they feel responsible for you, just like they felt responsible for their mother."   
  
"No matter what happens," the young man said quietly, "I will die one day. Maybe not for many years to come, but in the end I will die and leave the circles of this world. That is nothing they or anyone else can change."   
  
To his surprise, the elf merely smiled, a radiant smile that almost caused the bruises on his face and around his eye to fade.   
"Ah, but Estel," he began and shook his head, "That doesn't matter, don't you understand? It wouldn't change anything if you were an elf of two thousand years, nothing at all! You are their younger brother and they love you, and nothing will ever change that."   
  
He looked at the young man seriously, once again wondering how it was possible that a human boy of twenty-two – no, he corrected himself quickly, twenty-three – years of age could look so much like Elrond.   
  
"They know that you will die one day, _pen-neth_. It doesn't matter. But what does matter is that they were worried about you, worried so much that you could hardly get a straight answer out of them. They need to see that you are alive and well, and that everything will be fine." He shrugged slightly, a small smile spreading over his face. "Besides, the honey-cakes look delicious. Almost as good as Beorn's, if you ask me."   
  
"Well," Aragorn inclined his head graciously, returning the elf's smile, "If you say so, I will certainly not disregard your advice in this matter. There is no one who knows as much about honey-cakes as you do, my lord."   
  
"Indeed," Glorfindel nodded. "A small advantage of living as long as I have." He slowly stood to his feet, wincing slightly in the process, and offered the man a hand up. "Are you coming now, or do I have to drag you down there?"   
  
"Alright, alright," Aragorn grumbled mockingly. "I am coming. You win."   
  
"Of course I do," the elf retorted good-humouredly. "I always win."   
  
"I don't think Erestor is of that opinion," the young ranger replied as he got to his feet. They had almost reached the door, both of them swaying slightly from side to side, when Aragorn stopped, his eyes serious in his bruised face. "Thank you, my friend. You always know what to say, somehow."   
  
"And that," the elf smiled, "is an advantage of living in your father's house for a few thousand years, Estel. He is one of the wisest elves I have ever met – and I have met quite a few."   
  
Aragorn only inclined his head, and Glorfindel reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open, motioning the ranger to precede him. The man had almost stepped out of the room when the elf's voice caused him to stop and look back over his shoulder.   
  
"Oh, and Estel? Happy Birthday."   
  
The smile that spread over the ranger's face was bright and more genuine than any Glorfindel had seen on his face for a long time, and he soundlessly closed the door behind him and followed the man down the stairs where his brothers and friends were waiting for them.

  
  
It was now or never, Celylith was well aware of that.   
  
The elf nodded to himself and slowly and carefully moved down the wooden stairs leading to the lower level of the house. He was still not up to his full strength (and would most likely not be up to his full strength either for a few weeks yet), and once he almost lost his footing on the scrubbed steps. With his right arm bound tightly to his chest, he almost would have tumbled down the stairs headfirst, and only a quick, slightly desperate move with his left hand prevented such a thing.   
  
All the time it took him to reach the lower level, he muttered darkly under his breath, still keeping his voice low in order not to attract any attention. The last thing he needed now was to lure that monster of a healer out of whatever dark hole she hid in during the night. Well, he amended only a moment later, she was not that bad, but in combination with Legolas, Aragorn and the others she was unbearable.   
  
He wasn't an elfling, Celylith ranted inwardly, and neither was he made out of crystal or another fragile substance. Well, it might be true that every joint in his left arm had been dislocated and/or broken, and it might also be true that he had sustained a mild head wound, and he also might have suffered a few cuts, but he was no cripple! He was perfectly able to walk around as he pleased, and unaided at that! Besides, they shouldn't tell him what to do – they were at least as injured as he was!   
  
The silver haired elf gingerly took the last step and began to make his way through the dark house, praying to the One that he wouldn't alert any of the inhabitants. He knew that humans needed a lot of sleep (at least Aragorn did, who was about the only reference he had in that regard), and the men living here shouldn't get up for at least another half-hour – at least he hoped so. If there was one thing Celylith hated about his prince, it was his over-protectiveness and inability to understand when another person was perfectly alright, and he wouldn't put it past him to have locked the front door or something similarly ridiculous.   
  
He shook his head slightly. No, Legolas was far too busy recovering himself to do something like that. None of his companions was well enough to do anything like that, which was the reason why he was sneaking through this house like a kind of thief. Despite all their rather … unique states of health they had decided to leave today. It had been two days since they had spent a rather enjoyable morning eating honey-cakes and listening to the twins' stories about the ranger's misspent childhood and youth, and only four days since Girion had fallen, but all of them had concluded that they needed to leave as soon as possible.   
  
Thesieni and Sero had insisted that they needed (_absolutely_ needed, the woman had insisted in an exasperated tone of voice) to stay for some days longer, but that was nothing any of them was willing to do. There were no carrier pigeons in this town that could carry a message to Mirkwood, and none of them wanted to stay here longer than absolutely necessary if no one knew where they were.   
  
Celylith sighed inwardly. He knew that it wasn't necessarily a very good idea to journey through this part of Middle-earth at this kind of year, and injured at that, but there was absolutely no way he would stay here even one day longer. The king would be going out of his mind with worry by now, and so would his father. He didn't even care if his father killed him once they got back.   
  
But before he could leave, there was something he had to do. None of his companions would approve, he was sure about it, and so here he was, trying to move as soundlessly as possible. A few moments later he reached one of the side doors and opened it, taking a deep breath of the cold air that streamed into the room. It was considerably warmer now than it had been a few days ago, and Celylith felt how a smile began to spread on his still rather cut and bruised face. It fitted, somehow, that spring had begun to arrive in these parts. It fitted especially well if one considered that it arrived when they were leaving, but Celylith didn't allow that cynical thought to destroy his precarious good mood.   
  
He stepped out of the building into the dark street and froze for a moment, trying to remember on which side of the house the stables were. He finally decided that they were on the right side and promptly turned to the left. The _very _last thing he needed now was to…   
  
A dark, thoroughly evil-sounding whinny sounded to his left, and Celylith stopped as if someone had taken a hold of his shirt and yanked him back. He slowly turned to the side, his eyes widening to a rather amusing degree as he looked at the sneering face of Rashwe, who had poked his head out of his stable that was facing toward the street. He hadn't known that horses could sneer at you, he thought blankly.   
  
He was standing in the middle of the small alley, looking at the animal that was staring at him with reproachful eyes that could even have been termed hateful. He really didn't know why Rashwe was behaving like this, he thought darkly. It had been him who had agreed to take the animal with him so it could see its master again, after all! Well, yes, it might be correct that he hadn't had much of a choice in that matter, and yes, it might also be true that Rashwe and the rest of their mounts had spent the past few days in a small, cramped stable at the castle (where the horse had most likely terrorised its surroundings with the greatest of pleasure), but that hadn't been his fault at all! He had been a little tied up at that time as well!   
  
He had just opened his mouth to tell Rashwe exactly that when he closed it again a small snap. He would not justify himself to a horse, and most definitely not to this one! He slowly and carefully moved backwards, his eyes not leaving the animal that merely looked at him contemptuously. Next to it, another horse's head appeared, this one black as night. It was Aragorn's, the one he had named Rácatári out of reasons he refused to divulge, and it looked about as happy to see him as Rashwe, but it didn't seem to be quite as … well, evil. It just looked reproachful, and its large, soulful eyes were fixed on him accusingly.   
  
This was all Celylith was able to take. One horse hated him, and the other made him feel like his father always did when he had done something incredibly stupid. He whirled around, coming face to face with one of the twins who was grinning at him in a manner that was beginning to look slightly deranged. It took the elf all his self-control not to startle visibly, and another moment to realise that he was facing the older of the two.   
  
Elladan grinned when he saw the surprise the other elf was so quick to hide and raised a dark eyebrow mockingly.   
"So the noble Lord Celylith, son of the equally noble Lord Celythramir, is running away from a _horse_?"   
  
"No, I am not," Celylith shook his head tersely. "It's not a horse. It's a demon."   
  
"True, true," a soft voice to Celylith's right agreed, and Elrohir stepped out of the shadow of the houses, the white bandage that was still wrapped around his head gleaming in the darkness. The younger twin was leaning heavily upon a carved wooden stick he had found somewhere in the house, and was still looking pale, even for an elf. "Still, you are running away from it, that much is certain, _mellon nín_."   
  
"Oh," Celylith took a slightly wobbly step to the side and made a grand, sweeping motion with his unbound arm. "Please, show me your valour then, my Lord Elrohir! Surely _you _are not afraid of a little horse, demon or no demon?"   
  
Elrohir's eyes wandered from the silver haired elf to the white horse that was slowly and derisively turning its head into his direction. The twin gulped rather obviously as the animal eyed him in a manner that made him very glad that it was safely shut away in a stable, and he turned back around to his brother and friend, a rather fake smile on his lips.   
  
"That won't be possible, I fear," he said loftily. "We are leaving and are incidentally taking the other route, aren't we, brother?"   
  
"Oh yes," Elladan nodded fervently and unconsciously reached out when his brother stumbled slightly. "Most certainly. I am not going anywhere near that … thing."   
  
Rashwe's glare became even darker, if such a thing was even possible, and Celylith hastily turned around and began to follow the twins. It was bad enough that he would have to endure the animal on the way home; he wouldn't make everything worse by associating with the twins in front of it. It already despised him; there was no reason to give it yet another reason to hate him.   
  
He had just reached the twins' side when Elrohir slowly turned his head, mindful of his injury, and gave him a mildly disapproving stare.   
"Just what are you doing here anyway?"   
  
"I could ask the same of you," Celylith answered defensively. "_I _am merely enjoying the beautiful morning."   
  
Elrohir traded a wry look with his brother and ostentatiously raised his eyes to the dark sky.   
"The beautiful morning. I see."   
  
The silver haired elf ignored the twin's ironic words and gave him an innocent look that was coloured with quite a bit of suspicion as well.   
"And what are you doing here? I doubt Legolas, your brother or Lord Glorfindel have agreed to let you take a little walk."   
  
"Look who's talking," Elladan grinned at the elf, keeping one eye always on his younger brother to make sure he wouldn't fall. Now that his body had had the chance to counteract Glamir's potion in his system, he was feeling almost well again – something nobody here believed him, of course. "And to answer your question," he added smugly, "I am winning a bet."   
  
Elrohir merely snorted as they reached the main road and turned to the left, into the direction of the central market place.   
"That's what _you _think, dear brother." He turned to Celylith with a superior smile. "It is I who will be winning the bet, of course."   
  
"I … see," Celylith said slowly, noticing that the two of them were heading into the same direction he was. That couldn't be good, it just couldn't. "What kind of bet?"   
  
"You can't participate, if that's what you mean," Elladan answered. "He," he nodded into Elrohir's direction, "honestly thinks that I would believe him that he owes that gaping hole in his leg to that oxen thing."   
  
"And the only way we can settle this argument is to walk down to the marketplace and have a look at its horns," Elrohir nodded. "Sero said yesterday that they had recaptured it after it gutted the better part of that guard contingent, so it should be there."   
  
"The … ox," Celylith said slowly, his thoughts racing. Just how could he get the two of them to turn around and go back to the house? "Well, are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, you are both not well and…"   
  
The twins traded a suspicious glance and stopped, both of them looking at the silver haired elf in an inquisitive way that reminded Celylith a lot of their father.   
"Neither are you," Elladan retorted. "Just what are you doing here again?"   
  
"Well," Celylith began, thinking frantically. "I … well, strictly speaking … you could say that…"   
  
"You want to visit that thing!" Elrohir exclaimed, looking at the other elf with wide eyes.   
  
"Not really," the wood-elf retorted. "It's more that…"  
  
Elladan shook his head as he realised what Celylith was doing here, on the morning of their departure, alone, sneaking through the streets like a thief.   
"He doesn't want to visit it," he said slowly, his eyes not leaving the emotionless face of the silver haired elf. "He wants to free it."   
  
"Nonsense," Elrohir shook his head as well. "Not even he is so stupid, is he?" He turned to Celylith and needed only to take one look at his face to realise that his brother was right. "I stand corrected."   
  
Celylith gave the two of them only a dark look and continued to walk down the street. The twins stared at him for a moment, but began to follow him a moment later as quickly as they could.   
"You are insane!" Elladan accused the Silvan elf. "That thing will kill you! Why would you want to free it?"   
  
"No, it will not kill me. I will be careful," Celylith shrugged. "And someone has to."   
  
"Uhm, no?" Elrohir arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't even think about doing it."   
  
"Exactly," the other elf nodded. "Nobody would. Now that Girion is dead, who knows what will happen to it?   
  
"The more important question is: Who cares?"   
  
"You just don't understand," Celylith shook his head. "It will simply…"   
  
"Listen to me carefully, my friend," Elladan said darkly, pulling Celylith to a stop at the in the middle of the street and giving the marketplace that was only a few feet away a quick look. "Nobody – cares – what – happens – to – that – thing. Understood?"   
  
"I care."   
  
Elrohir threw his hands up, swaying slightly while he tried to regain his balance.   
"You are mad!"   
  
"That," the other elf retorted, "is a matter of definition. Now if you'll excuse me."   
  
The twins remained where they were, looking at each other in a way that clearly suggested that they doubted the wood-elf's sanity, before they quickly followed him, moving as quickly as their injured bodies would allow them. They caught up with him in the middle of the marketplace, only a few feet away from the still frozen fountain and the large iron cage, and Elladan once again reached out and managed to grab the other elf's shirtsleeve.   
  
"Stop!" the older twin demanded, tugging at the wood-elf's sleeve. "Would you please think about it for a moment?"   
  
"I have," Celylith said evenly, trying to pull his clothing out Elladan's grasp. "I won't allow these people here to keep it in that cage! It deserves more than that!"   
  
"Yes," Elrohir mumbled softly next to his twin. "A knife between its ribs, for example."   
  
Celylith merely shot him a dark look and turned around, but had apparently forgotten that Elladan was still holding onto his shirtsleeve and was jerked to a stop after a few steps.   
  
"Stop it!" Elladan once again demanded. "You haven't seen Legolas when he was going out of his mind with worry these few days ago! Well, I have, and I will _not _return to him and tell him that you got yourself killed just because you couldn't resist trying to tame that thing!"   
  
"I do not intend to tame it," Celylith shook his head, "There's no time for that."   
  
Elladan ground his teeth, and his younger brother took a step forward and grabbed Celylith's other shirtsleeve, meeting his outraged look evenly.   
"Celylith," he began quietly, "I know that you love these kinds of monsters. The Valar know that I do not know why, but you do. I know that you want to free it, and if it were not quite such an insane idea, it would even be a noble one, but you are not up to doing it alone. Be reasonable, _mellon nín_. You can use only one arm and are far from healthy."   
  
"Yes," Elladan nodded next to him. "How would you get it out of the cage? And to the gates, and through them? It would gut you before you had even left this plaza."   
  
"I have a plan," Celylith declared smugly as he finally managed to wrench his shirt out of the twins' grasp.   
  
"Oh," Elrohir arched an eyebrow, looking just like his father for a moment. "And what kind of plan would that be?"   
  
"A good one. I have everything carefully laid out," the silver haired elf informed him. A moment later, he added wryly, "However, I seem to have … forgotten it."   
  
"Forgotten. What else?" Elladan asked sarcastically. All humour fled from his face in an instant as Celylith turned to walk toward the "adorable ox" that had started snorting loudly once it had caught sight of them, and he once again reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Celylith, be reasonable once every five hundred years. You can't do this alone."   
  
"Well, I don't have any other choice, do I?" the other elf asked exasperatedly. "Unless," he added mischievously, "you are volunteering to help me?"   
  
"Absolutely not," both twins shook their heads simultaneously.   
  
"Then," Celylith retorted with a long-suffering sigh and once again started to walk over to the cage, "I will have to do it all by myself." He gave the two other elves a side glance and grinned inwardly when he saw the dark expressions on their faces. "No matter how dangerous it might be … how badly injured I could be … how saddened Legolas would be by my death…"   
  
Elladan rolled his eyes in disgust and shook his head.   
"You're pathetic."   
  
"Personally, I would choose the term 'scheming'," Celylith informed him complacently.   
  
"I am sure you would," Elrohir slowly shook his head as well. "We'll get you back for this."   
  
"Of course you will," Celylith smiled benevolently before he nodded at Elladan. "If you would lend me a hand then…?"   
  
The twins glowered at him but moved to comply, and the wood-elf grinned and walked over to the cage, placing his un-bandaged hand on the metal bars before snatching it back to avoid the apparently rather annoyed ox's horns. He gave the animal a mildly admonishing look and turned back to the twins, taking care not to stand too close to the cage.   
  
"And when we're finished here, you can accompany me to the castle, hmm?"   
  
The twins' eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Elrohir finally asked reluctantly,   
"Why?"   
  
"'Why'?" Celylith repeated in mock surprise, mischief lurking in his dark blue eyes. "Well, to look for the dragon, of course! I believe Lord Thranduil would be most pleased to be able to give it to King Dáin of the Lonely Mountain as a little gift, don't you think? That would be just the kind of thing he would enjoy; I'm sure the dwarves are missing Smaug already…"   
  
Elladan and Elrohir stared at the Silvan elf for long moments, speechless, but then the two of them starting laughing so hard that they were hard-pressed to keep their feet, and after a few moments Celylith gladly joined in, feeling more carefree and lighthearted than he had for a long, long time.

  
  
A few hours later the sun had risen over the dark houses of Baredlen, doing her best to lighten the dark grey stone or make it appear less foreboding. Legolas gave the small, wood-panelled room in which he had spent a substantial part of the past week a last look and slowly turned around, mindful of his bandaged side. And his bandaged head, and his bandaged arm, and…   
  
With a small, inward headshake the elf abandoned that train of thought and carefully turned around, moving slowly in order not to tear any stitches or do anything else that could be termed careless by anyone. In the beginning, Aragorn had been too unwell himself to do much except sleep, and he had only had to cope with Thesieni, who seemed to consider his and everyone else's state of health a kind of personal insult.   
  
The elf shook his head, this time openly. He really didn't know why every single healer in all of Arda hated him and Aragorn, he really didn't have the slightest idea. It was a fact, however, and so Thesieni had done little but glower at him. That had been bad enough already, but after a day the rest of his so-called friends had started trying to tell him what to do as well. Even Glorfindel had begun to give him disapproving stares whenever he perceived him to ignore Thesieni's recommendations (which, admittedly, was rather often the case), and now that Aragorn's body had got over the worst of its exhaustion, the man was positively unbearable. Celylith and the twins weren't much better either, and he was beginning to dread the journey that lay ahead of them.   
  
Legolas sighed softly and carefully picked up the last of his bags and his quiver, resisting the urge to take up his bow and look at it once again. Menvan had brought his weapons, along the his companions' and their gear, back to the house the day after the fight, and had the elf not been so weak at that time, he would most likely have jumped up and hugged the man. Which would probably have been enough to scare Cendan's second-in-command into an early grave, Legolas thought with a small grin, so it might have been quite fortuitous that he had restrained himself. He liked the man, after all – admittedly, only because he had brought him his bow, but still...   
  
"Still happy to be reunited, are you? If I am disturbing the two of you, just say it. I would understand your need for privacy."   
  
Legolas whirled around, his right hand still clutching his bag and quiver, and relaxed minutely when he saw who had sneaked up on him – not that he had needed to guess. As he had expected, Aragorn was standing in front of him, wearing a dark grey travelling cloak one of his brothers had given him and a smug grimace that would almost have caused the elf to blush.   
  
"I thought you were readying the horses with Glorfindel, Estel?" Legolas asked defensively, trying not to let the man see how surprised he actually was.   
  
If he had hoped that Aragorn would miss the slightly flustered expression on his face, he was sadly mistaken.   
"Oh, I readied mine, the twins' and the one Laenro is borrowing Celylith," the man answered nonchalantly with a smug smile. "Since Rashwe tried to bite me at least three times and nearly managed to rip my cloak to shreds, Glorfindel volunteered to load the horses and ready that demon you call an animal. I think it's afraid of him."   
  
"I really don't know what you are talking about," Legolas shook his head as he placed his quiver on his back. "Rashwe is a perfectly … docile horse."   
  
"'Docile'??" Aragorn repeated wide-eyed. "Are we talking about the same horse?"   
  
"I believe so," Legolas smiled at the man before he turned serious in an instant. "Are Celylith and the twins back?"   
  
"Not yet," the ranger shook his head and stepped to the side, allowing his friend to walk past him, out of the room and into the corridor. Sunbeams danced over the floorboards, and Aragorn found himself smiling. He hadn't realised how much he had missed the sun these past days and weeks. "Don't worry, my friend. They'll come; they wouldn't want us to leave without them, now would they?"   
  
"I don't know about the twins, but I wouldn't be so sure about Celylith," Legolas shrugged slightly and followed Aragorn into the direction of the wooden stairs, noticing that the man was still limping rather heavily. Thesieni had assured them that Caellan, Teonvan's lieutenant, hadn't broken anything when he had kicked the ranger, but his ribs and hip were heavily bruised. It would take some time until Aragorn would walk normally again.   
  
He shook himself out of his thoughts and smiled at the man who had stopped close to the staircase, waiting for him to catch up with him.   
"He still believes that there is a dragon in the castle," he added in a manner of explanation. "I had to order him to stay here to prevent him from running off on some wild chase after another 'adorable, sweet, misunderstood creature'."   
  
Aragorn smiled back, but narrowed his eyes after a moment.   
"Did you order him to stay away from the ox as well?"   
  
"No," Legolas shook his head as he began to walk down the stairs. "Why … oh."   
  
"He'll be back," Aragorn tried to reassure the elf. "He's not up to wandering through the town all on his own."   
  
"Which is most likely why he took your brothers with him," Legolas retorted wryly.   
  
Aragorn shrugged wordlessly, wincing as pain awoke in his left shoulder, and was about to reply something when they reached the ground level of the house. The had only taken two or three steps and the man was just opening his mouth to say something to his elven companion when a door opened to their left and Sero stepped out of it, inclining his head in greeting as soon as he saw them. The man's long grey hair was bound back neatly and the cut on his cheek was healing nicely, and he even smiled slightly at them – something that could not be said about Thesieni who was standing behind the man, exuding dark reproach that would have put Hithrawyn to shame.   
  
The young ranger unconsciously touched his shoulder wound which the healer had bound earlier this morning and nodded at the two humans in front of them, doing his best to ignore Thesieni who was simply staring at them in a manner that very clearly said that, if she'd have had her way, she would have dragged them back to their rooms.   
  
"Sero," he nodded at the other man.   
  
"Ranger," the older man retorted and nodded at him and the fair haired elf. "Your friend is waiting for you with the horses, I believe. Are you sure that you want to leave so soon?"   
  
"Very," Aragorn smiled slightly while he and Legolas followed Sero out of the house. "We appreciate your hospitality and your concern, of course, but we really must leave."   
  
"I see," Sero nodded with a small, ironic glance at Thesieni who was mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. "Well, we won't keep you."   
  
They reached the large room with the benches and long table where Cendan and his second-in-command were waiting, looking as calm and composed as they always did. Only Menvan betrayed a bit of his feelings; he looked somehow rather … amused.   
  
Legolas looked at the two men, who were still wearing their uniforms, now without the strip of red fabric wrapped around their arms. They probably didn't need it anymore, the elf thought absent-mindedly. He seriously doubted that there was a noteworthy number of Girion's men still in the city.   
  
"Good morning," he finally said evenly. He hadn't seen the two of them – or any of their men, for that matter – since they had been brought back to Laenro's house, and, frankly, he didn't really know what he should think about them. Cendan had saved his life more than once, just like Menvan had saved Aragorn's and Glorfindel's, from what he'd heard, but that didn't mean that he trusted either of them.   
  
Cendan actually raised an amused eyebrow and inclined his head ironically, giving the three humans and the elf in front of him a curt nod.   
"Good morning," he retorted evenly. "So you are really leaving today."   
  
"Indeed," Aragorn nodded back. "I am sure your heart bleeds."   
  
"I didn't say that," Cendan almost smiled.   
  
"It's a good thing that you are leaving now, and not earlier today," Menvan added. "Believe it or not, but the ox managed to escape – again!"   
  
Neither the ranger nor the elf gave any outward reaction to the man's words, but an identical, half-amused, half-exasperated sparkle appeared in their eyes.   
"Is that so?" Legolas asked nonchalantly while they were making their way over to the door.   
  
Menvan nodded, amusement more than anything else visible on his face.   
"I didn't want to believe it myself, but somehow it managed to get out of the cage. It appeared at the northern gates before anyone had noticed that it was gone, only the Gods know how. It managed to pick the exact time they had the changing of the guard, and it really got out of the city. It is most certainly the luckiest ox I have ever seen."   
  
Legolas wrenched his eyes away from Aragorn's face and did his best to ignore the way the corners of his friend's mouth were beginning to twitch slightly. The fair haired elven prince called upon every single bit of his self-control and royal upbringings, forced his face into a neutral façade and fixed his eyes with great precision on a spot just an inch above Menvan's left eyebrow, knowing that he would dissolve into laughter if he looked him in the eye.   
  
"It would appear so."   
  
The man gave him an odd look, but finally nodded without saying anything. A moment later they had all stepped outside into the bright sunshine that filled the narrow alley that was nearly completely blocked by the six horses that were standing closely together to their left, in front of the stables. A few onlookers had gathered, standing close to the walls of the houses around them, but it weren't too many. It appeared that the people of this town had other things to do than watch them leave, something that Aragorn could understand only too well.   
  
The young ranger's eyes wandered over the horses standing to his left, and he breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw his brothers' dark hair that was nearly of the same colour as Ráca's coat. They were standing next to Glorfindel, as far away as they could from Rashwe that was – now that Legolas was near – looking like the most normal, friendly horse in the world, and on the other side of the black horse Aragorn could see a bit of Celylith's silver hair.   
  
A moment later they moved a bit, enabling him to get a better look at them, and Aragorn would nearly have lost the last bit of his composure that had made it possible for him to remain a more or less straight face. There was a rather long, blood-encrusted tear in Celylith's tunic, revealing the sight of some of Thesieni's bandages. There was also an imprint of what looked like a pair of hooves on the back of his cloak, Elrohir had a strip of linen wrapped around his hand and Elladan sported a rather bloody nose and a torn over shirt.   
  
The man took a deep breath and forced himself to redirect his gaze from the thunderous, angry expression on his brothers' faces to the ground, praying to the Valar for composure. This was priceless; just _how _had that mad elf persuaded the two of them to help him?   
  
Legolas seemed to think much the same, because he only mumbled something about how he urgently needed to speak to their companions and disappeared down the street into the four elves' direction, his slim shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Aragorn inwardly cursed his friend for leaving him alone with the others – especially Thesieni – and finally turned half-around, bowing to the female healer, the most charming smile he could manage right now on his lips.   
  
"My lady," he began courteously, "I thank you once again for all the help and care you have granted us. You risked your life by treating me and my companions, and we will forever be in your debt."   
  
"Hmpf," the elderly woman made, sounding rather unimpressed. "If you really wanted to thank me, boy, you would stay a bit longer. You are not hale yet, and I do not enjoy patching people up to watch them fall apart once more a few days later."   
  
Aragorn smiled again, but determination was plain to see on his face.   
"I am sorry, my lady, but that is a wish we cannot satisfy. We need to get back to Mirkwood as soon as possible." He looked at the healer, doing his best to appear earnest and sincere. "We will be fine, I promise. Elves heal quickly, and so do most of my kin. You are right, they are far from healed, but they will be just fine with time. I promise you that I won't let them tear your stitches or something similarly foolish."   
  
"And who, Master Ranger, will be looking after you?" the woman demanded to know.   
  
"I'm sure I'll find someone," Aragorn smiled. "Once again, thank you, my lady. We owe you our lives."   
  
"You owe me nothing," Thesieni shook her head. "You and your companions did more than I by far." She shook her head slightly and gave Aragorn a last, disapproving look. "Go then if you must, boy. But I will assume no responsibility for any relapses any of you might suffer!"   
  
She didn't wait for Aragorn to say anything but simply turned on her heel and disappeared back into the house, mumbling something about stubborn rangers and elves. Sero watched her go with a small smile before he turned back to the younger man.   
  
"She likes you and the others, lad," he told Aragorn. "I have watched her rip out the hearts of older and more eloquent men than you and eat them for breakfast because they ignored her recommendations."   
  
Aragorn looked at the grey haired man, a slightly uneasy smile on his lips.   
"Surely you are speaking metaphorically."   
  
Sero merely looked at him expressionlessly, and Aragorn decided with a small shudder that there were things he really didn't want to know. He turned back to the horses, surveying the men that were gathered in the street. He frowned slightly and turned back to the grey haired man.   
"Where is Laenro?"   
  
Sero grimaces and didn't answer for several seconds, and Aragorn realised that he hadn't seen the brown haired man since the day Girion had died. They had always talked to Sero or a few of his officers; Laenro hadn't shown himself for days. Finally the grey haired man looked up at Aragorn, sadness in his eyes, mixed with another emotion the ranger couldn't identify.   
  
"He … is taking his sister's death very hard," Sero began haltingly. "He is working night and day to put a provisory council of some sort together, even though that will take some time yet." The man took a deep breath and looked Aragorn in the eye. "He doesn't want to see any of you, ever again."   
  
The dark haired ranger lowered his head, suddenly thanking the Valar that Cendan and his second-in-command had moved off to the side to talk to some soldiers who had appeared in the street, attracted by the commotion.   
"Oh," he said softly. "I understand. He blames us for her death."   
  
"Yes," Sero answered frankly. "But that is only part of it, I think. I have known him for most of his life, and, above all, he feels guilty, guilty that he is still alive and Ethoani is not. He thinks that he, as her older brother, should have died in her stead, no matter how irrational that wish may be. To see you and especially the elves is simply too painful."   
  
Aragorn nodded curtly, the distinct feeling that Laenro had every right to blame them beginning to spread inside of him.   
"I see," he retorted as evenly as he could.   
  
"I don't think you do, boy," Sero shook his head, smiling slightly when the young man raised his head, surprise and maybe a little indignation on his face.   
  
"That is the grief talking, Strider," he added calmly. "As I said, I've known him for a long time. Laenro has always had a quick temper and has been prone to speaking without thinking. A part of him blames you, yes, but a larger part blames himself. He's always tried to protect his sister, especially after her fiancé's death, and now he feels that he has failed her – and who knows, perhaps he is right. Perhaps we could have done something to save her, but that is something we will never know. Deep in his heart he believes that what happened is not your fault and that Ethoani made a choice she never regretted, and that is all that is truly important. With time, he will accept that. Just … not now."   
  
"What about you?" Aragorn asked softly, silver eyes serious and tense in his face. "Do you think it was our fault?"   
  
Sero looked at him for a few moments and finally shook his head slowly.   
  
"No," he replied just as softly. "No, I do not. You cannot take something that is not there, after all." He met the ranger's questioning eyes evenly. "She was already dead when they caught her, ranger. She had been dead for a long time, ever since she watched Ciran die. It would have come to this no matter what – sooner or later. Everything that was her died that day, and all Girion's men killed was what little was still left. No, I do not blame you."   
  
"Thank you," a soft voice to their left spoke up before Aragorn could say anything, and both men turned around sharply.   
  
In front of them stood Legolas who had walked back from the other elves who were visible at the horses, the twins looking strangely satisfied, while Glorfindel looked mildly amused and Celylith decidedly unhappy. The elven prince gave Sero a tiny bow and inclined his head as much as his pounding skull would allow.  
  
"Thank you," he repeated. "I hope that, one day, Laenro will find it to forgive us for whatever blame we might bear. Neither I nor any of my companions ever meant for any of this to happen."   
  
"I know you didn't, elf," Sero shook his head. "It's Girion who's to blame for it, again. Laenro will realise that one day and will forgive you. He may be a hothead, but he is not blind to the truth when it jumps up and grabs him by the nose. He'll understand, one day." He nodded at the two of them and gave them a small smile. "I need to be going. I wish you a safe journey, you and all your companions. I think it's safe to say we will not see each other again."   
  
"Who knows?" Aragorn shrugged slightly, ignoring his protesting shoulder as he grasped the other man's offered hand tightly. "Thank you for everything, Sero. Look after yourself."   
  
"And I was about to say the same thing, ranger," Sero smiled, more broadly this time. "If there is one person who needs the Gods' grace and protection, it is you, that much is certain."   
  
Aragorn didn't even try to protest, and a few moments later Sero had disappeared inside the house as well, leaving the two friends behind. Only another second went by before they were joined by Cendan and his second-in-command, who appeared at their sides as soundlessly as always. The two of them would make wonderful rangers, Aragorn thought a little bit grumpily while he tried to appear as if he had seen them coming all along.   
  
For quite a long time the three men and the elf merely looked at each other before Legolas finally spoke, deciding that if he knew Cendan at all, he wouldn't start speaking for the next few hours if he didn't prompt him.   
"I hope you'll not be too offended when I say that I hope to never see you again."   
  
"Not at all, elf," Cendan retorted impassively. "I couldn't agree more."   
  
"Indeed," Menvan echoed his lieutenant's sentiments. "The two dark haired ones want to kill me, I swear they do. And the other two as well, I think."   
  
Aragorn merely looked calmly at the brown haired man, neither denying nor confirming his suspicion – and only partly because he enjoyed the other's unease. The twins had been showing their mistrust and antipathy towards all of Cendan's men and most strongly towards the dark haired lieutenant and Menvan rather openly, and Aragorn was rather sure that, if they and Celylith got the chance, they would do something rather painful to Cendan and the others for daring to lay a single finger on their brother and friend.   
  
"What about your uncle?" he asked Cendan, ignoring Menvan's suspicious looks that the man cast in to the other elves' direction.   
  
"He withdrew his men," Cendan retorted, a deadpan expression on his face. "There was some trouble with some of the other tribes, but nothing he and his men couldn't handle."  
  
"Yes," Legolas said slowly, inwardly asking the Valar for patience. "We had gathered as much. Has he withdrawn back to the lands of his tribe? Have the other tribes followed him?"   
  
"Obviously; otherwise this city would lie in ruins," Cendan nodded. "He did as I bid him."   
  
Aragorn felt Legolas' temper rising and forced himself to remain impassive. It was clear that Cendan wouldn't divulge any more, at least not voluntarily.   
"It must have cost you a great deal."   
  
"Yes," Cendan agreed softly, his eyes not leaving the faces of the two friends in front of him. "Yes, it did."   
  
"What are you going to do now?" Aragorn asked, truly curious. It appeared that Laenro was working hard on somehow re-establishing order in the city, but he had no idea what Cendan would want to do now.   
  
Cendan looked at him with a strange intensity, but finally inclined his head a little.   
"For now, I'll stay here. I have to see to it that those of my men who wish to stay here to keep protecting their home are allowed to do so. They have shed their blood for this city, and I will see to it that their sacrifices are honoured." He paused for a moment. "After that – I do not know. Maybe I will stay for a while longer, or go to the South, to Gondor. They're always in need of good soldiers there, or so you hear."   
  
"So they are," Aragorn nodded softly. "Who knows, maybe we'll see each other again after all. You can never know what the future will bring."   
  
"Yes," Legolas agreed next to him, silver-blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Cendan's face. "And if we do, as what will we meet? As friends? I do not think so. Maybe as enemies then?"   
  
The dark haired lieutenant returned the elf's look evenly, and for long moments they merely looked at each other, both unwilling to be the first to look away. Finally Cendan inclined his head minutely, a small, almost undetectable hint of laughter in his eyes.   
  
"I never had any quarrel with either of you. If we meet again, we will not meet as enemies."   
  
Cendan gave the elven prince and the ranger a surprisingly regal, graceful nod and turned around without another word. A moment later he and his inconspicuous second-in-command had disappeared in the crowd that had gathered by now, the two of them moving so quietly that even Legolas' elven ears lost the sound of their footsteps soon after they had disappeared from sight. The blond elf kept looking after the two men for a few seconds longer before he turned back to his human friend, mild puzzlement on his fair face.   
  
"Just when I think I understand humans, one like that one appears and ruins everything."   
  
"Do not worry about that, _mellon nín_," Aragorn told the elf with a small smile while they slowly made their way over to their companions. "I don't understand them any better than you, I think, and if there is one man I will never completely understand, it is Cendan."   
  
"You can say what you want about you _edain_, but you aren't boring," Legolas retorted amiably. "I just wonder as what we would meet again. Not as friends, surely, and not as enemies either. Where does that leave us?"   
  
"Right here," Aragorn replied seriously. "On neutral ground, or at least as neutral as it gets in this part of Arda." He stopped for a second and grinned at the blond elf, mischief dancing in his eyes. "No matter what, if we meet the dear lieutenant again, it will surely be interesting."   
  
"'Interesting'?" Legolas echoed the man's words. "It will be 'interesting'? That's what you call this … experience, _ interesting_? 'Interesting' is a euphemistic term for 'disastrous' when travelling in your company, Estel!"   
  
"Excuse me?" Aragorn arched a dark eyebrow, mock indignation on his still bruised face. "_I _am not the one who nearly got himself strangled because he made Girion angry enough to kill him with his bare hands, or who very nearly cracked his skull on a chair, or…"   
  
Legolas merely kept walking, snorting darkly under his breath, and with a smile on his lips that belied his indignant words Aragorn hurried to catch up with the elf, silently thanking Ilúvatar and all the Valar that they had watched over them during their latest … interesting escapade.

  
  
Eleven days of almost continued rainfall later, six rather bedraggled, wet riders reached the long, straight alley that led to the large, magically sealed front gates of the palace of Mirkwood. Said riders were sitting on six equally bedraggled, equally wet horses from which a distinct air or resentment was emanating, a resentment that seemed to be aimed to equal parts at their riders and the miserable weather in general.   
  
It wasn't that he could blame them, Glorfindel thought wryly and reached out with his left hand to pat Asfaloth's neck, wincing slightly at the wet, squishing sound his palm made when it connected with the animal's wet coat. The large, even now still slightly gleaming white horse turned its head with disconcerting slowness and gave its master a look that very clearly said that it would try to bite him the next time it got the chance.   
  
Glorfindel knew his mount better than to try and appease it now; the only thing that could possibly make the horse forgive him for the relentless, uncomfortable ride they had gone through these past eleven days was its favourite kind of apples – and a lot of them, too. The golden haired elf lord grimaced slightly. He didn't know how he should explain to the king's chief cook that he really, urgently needed the better part of last year's apple harvest. Then again, he thought, the idea serving to cheer him up a little, King Thranduil would kill him anyway, so he wouldn't really have to worry about things like that.   
  
The blond elf pushed back his hood, ignoring the rain that hit his face only a moment later. These past eleven days had been among the most uncomfortable of his life. They had tried to travel as fast as possible; they all knew that all of Mirkwood and most likely most of Rivendell must be going out of its mind with worry. The first day had been rather pleasant and had passed quickly with stories and the feeling of happiness that filled all of them at leaving Baredlen and its inhabitants behind. Neither the pleasant journey nor their feeling of elation had lasted much longer, for it had started to rain – nay, the elf corrected himself, _pour _– during that first night. And it hadn't stopped yet.   
  
He shrugged slightly as they rode down the alley, neither of them speaking. None of them had minded the rain overly much in the beginning – not even Aragorn, who merely seemed annoyed at their insistence that he put on two or three extra coats to keep himself warm. What had been really bothering them was the fact that the rain turned the lands that were still covered with slowly melting snow into something closely resembling the icy surface of a lake. Not even elven horses could travel quickly over ice in this kind of weather, and so the journey had taken them longer than they would have wished – and it had been a lot harder and stressful as well.   
  
No, Glorfindel concluded, he was very happy they had finally reached their destination, no matter what King Thranduil would do to all of them. Apart from the fact that he was beginning to become seriously annoyed with the cold, the rain and the fact that Asfaloth stumbled precisely six times an hour (he had counted), he was beginning to suspect that Aragorn was not as fine as he was claiming to be. Glorfindel didn't know all that much about human regenerative powers, but there was one thing he had learned in these past twenty-one years, and that was that an already injured human and cold and rain were not a good combination.   
  
Their horses half walked and half slid down the alley, and Glorfindel once again cursed their bad luck. If only the rain had been enough to melt the snow completely, he wouldn't complain, or at least not as much as he was now. During the night, however, the temperature still dropped below the freezing point, therefore causing the snow and mud to freeze once more. The elf inwardly shook his head. This was the Valar's way of punishing them for past wrongdoings – and most likely also for the ones they hadn't even committed yet.   
  
Next to him, his companions were entertaining much the same thoughts, the twins' and Aragorn's not quite as terrified as their two Silvan companions'. As happy as Legolas was to be home again, a large part was also afraid – and not only of his father's lecture that would most likely follow as soon as he had realised that he was safe and in one piece. During the last few days doubts and sorrow had been preying heavily on his mind, and Legolas felt as if they were only intensifying the closer to the palace he got.  
  
His thoughts were centred on two persons – or rather three, now that he thought about it this way. First, on his father of course, who would most likely be torn between wishing to strangle him and hug him for the next few decades. The second person was Anardir and Galalith the third, who would neither hug him nor strangle him. Galalith was dead, of course, and even though Anardir was not, he would do neither.   
  
No, the elf thought darkly, he would be very much surprised if Anardir did one of the two. On a rational level he knew that he was not to blame for either Galalith's death or Anardir's injury, but that changed precious little. One of his friends, one of his _men _was dead. He had failed his duty to protect his men from injury and death, and no matter what the circumstances were, no matter what had happened, that was something that nothing could change.   
  
At least, Legolas thought, trying to cheer himself up, Anardir was still alive. Even despite the horrible weather that had lowered visibility to a few feet they had of course not passed through Mirkwood unchallenged. The day before yesterday they had been stopped by a patrol, and after the usually so calm and composed Mirkwood warriors had calmed down sufficiently from the surprise and joy of seeing their missing prince again, they had willingly told him about Anardir's condition and everything else that had happened during their absence.   
  
If the elven prince had thought that that would cheer him up, he was mistaken. It only served to bring back the memories of the other elves' faces when they had told him in careful, neutral terms about the dark, listless state the blond elf had slipped into after awakening and his father's almost frantic worry. Oh yes, Legolas thought darkly, so much sarcasm in his inner voice that it surprised even him. What a cheerful thought.   
  
Legolas was still immersed in his troubled thoughts when Rashwe suddenly stopped, causing him to raise his head in mild annoyance. To his surprise his eyes almost immediately fixed on the large stone gates that stood ajar in front of them, and with a pang of joy and sadness he realised that they were home. For a moment, he just sat on his horse, staring at the grey stone through the water that fell heavily from the skies, before he finally spurred on his horse, guiding it through the gates and into the courtyard.   
  
Even before Celylith's horse (which was the last) had fully moved through the gates, they were surrounded by what looked like two-thirds of the guard corps and fifty percent of the rest of Mirkwood's inhabitants. All dark thoughts were chased from Legolas' mind as he looked into the overjoyed faces of the other elves and did his best to answer a thousand questions at once. Suddenly he was very glad that he had insisted that the captain of the patrol that had stopped them hadn't sent anyone ahead to inform the palace of their arrival. Apart from the fact that a messenger wouldn't have reached Mirkwood before them, he was rather sure that they wouldn't have reached the front gates at all because of all the people that would have crowded the paths.   
  
Even now with only half of Mirkwood's population trying to greet them at once it took them nearly ten minutes to reach the stairs leading up to the main building. There nearly wasn't enough space for any of them to dismount, something about which their already rather annoyed horses weren't too happy. In the end Rashwe whinnied threateningly and tossed his head in a definitely threateningly manner, and even the most experienced and fiercest warriors backed away with impressive speed.   
  
A few moments later all six of them had dismounted, and even the rather furiously snorting Rashwe allowed himself to be led away into the direction of the stables willingly enough. Legolas turned back to his companions, for the moment ignoring all the questions that were directed at him. He would almost have smiled as he surveyed the very, very wet beings in front of him, marvelling at how much they looked like something someone had just fished out of a river. Well, except for Glorfindel, of course. He didn't know how someone so wet could look so … well, dry.   
  
The twins turned from where they had watched Celylith speak to one of the warriors who were essentially asking them where in the name of all the Valar they had been these past five weeks and gave Legolas a wry look.   
"We've come to a decision, my friend," Elrohir told the fair haired elf loftily. "You'll be going first."   
  
"I will?" Legolas asked back, not very surprised.   
  
"Indeed," Elladan nodded, a small grin on his face. He quickly reached out and grabbed Aragorn's elbow as the man threatened to stumble on the slippery ground.   
  
The young ranger was either too wet or too exhausted to even protest much, something that only proved to Legolas that humans and continuous rain didn't mix. The elven prince merely shook his head wearily as he returned the grin.   
"You are cowards, all of you."   
  
"I beg to differ," Glorfindel interjected smugly. "We are simply not very keen on facing your father's formidable wrath, young one." He cast a quick look around, locating a cluster of elves which he recognised as part of the kitchen staff. "If you'll excuse me," he told the younger beings, "I need to procure some apples." He frowned into the direction of the stables, just managing to catch sight of the tip of Asfaloth's tail as the horse was being led inside. Even the tail looked angry, he decided wryly. "A _lot _of apples."   
  
A moment later he was gone, somehow managing to move through the mass of people with ease, and the four younger elves and Aragorn looked at each other, all of them looking equally bemused.   
"Has one of you any idea what he was talking about?"   
  
"Don't ask me," Aragorn shrugged lightly, doing his best to suppress a shiver that raced through his cold body. "I have only known him for twenty-one years. That's not nearly enough time to get to know Glorfindel, believe me."   
  
"I have known him for all my life and I still don't know how his mind works. I don't think anyone except _ada _and maybe Erestor could claim that they do," Elrohir retorted while they were trying to push their way through the elves that were still crowding around them.   
  
"I am concerned with more pressing problems," Celylith muttered next to them as they climbed up the stairs. Most of the elves were respectfully staying behind to give them some space – or because they had realised that the king would not be happy if his son and heir was squashed to death by his own people. "For example: Three or six?"   
  
Legolas stopped half way up the stairs, more than willing to delay their inevitable arrival, and be it only for a few moments.   
"Three or six?"   
  
The silver haired elf grinned slightly as he looked into the clueless faces of his friends.   
"Will the king give each of us his own cell or will he put two in one to save space?"   
  
"Considering the size of the troll that is waiting to eat us, I would say he will put all of us into a single cell," Legolas retorted humorously.   
  
"Yes," Aragorn nodded as they started to climb the stairs once more. "And then he'll forget about us for a few decades, which won't really bother you, but which will really ruin most of my youth and middle age for me."   
  
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Celylith muttered as they reached the front doors, turning back to his companions, "I don't think that we wi…"   
  
While he had still been speaking the doors had been opened with a single movement from the inside, and Celylith's sentence was interrupted as one of his arms (luckily his left one, because the other was still healing) was seized firmly by the wrist and he was pulled forward. A moment later the elf who had grabbed him appeared in the doorway, his eyes fixed intensely on the face of the elf whose arm he was still holding.   
  
Legolas smiled slightly at his father's advisor and gave him a small bow which the older elf returned almost automatically. A moment Celythramir's eyes returned to his son who was simply staring at him with an expression of relief, joy and a tiny bit of hesitation, and without speaking a single word he simply pulled the younger elf forward into a tight embrace. Celylith didn't say anything either, the relief on his face only intensifying as he allowed his father to pull him close, not at all caring that about half of Mirkwood was watching such a public display of affection.   
  
The fair haired elven prince was still smiling broadly when a shadow fell over his face, and he redirected his gaze from the two silver haired elves to the one who had stopped just in front of him, already knowing whom he would see. Just as he had thought, it was his father who had, just like his advisor, either been alerted by the commotion or had been informed of their arrival as soon as they had ridden through the gates. Probably the latter, the young elf thought wryly. Galion always knew everything that was going on in the palace or the grounds, and his father's butler would have made sure that his king learnt of their arrival immediately.   
  
Thranduil merely looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, his eyes boring into his son's in an unconscious attempt to commit the younger elf's features to memory. The king's blue eyes were large and bright, and Legolas realised with a small shock that his father was close to tears. The times that he had watched his controlled, always so composed father close to tears or actually crying could be counted on the fingers of one hand alone, and for the first time he truly realised how deeply his sudden disappearance must have scared the older elf.   
  
After what felt like an eternity the golden haired king slowly reached out to touch his cheek, as if to make sure that he was real and not an illusion or a dream, and without thinking the younger elf reached out and grasped his father's hand and squeezed it softly, trying to reassure Thranduil that he was truly here and just fine.   
  
Legolas' eyes slowly travelled from his father's hand to his face, and in the moment he looked into the older elf's bright, exultant eyes all the words he had so carefully laid out during the long nights he had spent in Reran's camp and which he had wanted to say to his father when he would see him again faded from his mind, and he realised that, sometimes, you didn't really have to say anything at all.

  
  
Very nearly exactly three days later, Legolas was closing the door which led to Aragorn's room very, very softly, trying not to wake the sleeping human. If Aragorn knew that he was checking up on him at night to make sure that he was alright and well and was generally behaving like, as the man would call it, a "mother hen", he would tease him for days.   
  
Managing that task successfully, the elven prince quietly walked down the corridor, nodding at the guards he passed who greeted him with quite a bit more joy than usually. Even though most of the excitement that had greeted them at their arrival had died down, especially after three days of almost non-stop feasting and merrymaking, most of the elves he met were still beaming at him whenever they saw him. No matter how nice that reaction had been in the beginning, it was slowly beginning to drive him mad.   
  
The smile that had still been adorning his face died quickly as he thought of all the things that were also beginning to drive him mad. There were quite a few of them, actually, and that was why he was walking over to his father's study to explain most of them to him – which would be not an especially pleasant experience; that was something he was very sure about.   
  
Legolas sighed inwardly while he walked down the corridor and turned to the right, his feet automatically choosing the way that would take him to his destination. His father had of course not been angry with him, because, for once, nothing of all this had been his fault. Well, he amended quickly, at least his _capture_ hadn't been his fault, which did not mean that there were't other things he could have, he _should _have prevented…   
  
The blond elf shook his head quickly, refusing to dwell on these thoughts again. Fact was that his father had simply been overjoyed at having him back – he had almost hugged Aragorn, the twins, Glorfindel and Celylith for bringing him back, a nearly unprecedented occurrence for the usually so reserved king. His father was indeed overjoyed – maybe even a little too overjoyed, which would make everything even harder, of course.   
  
With another mental sigh Legolas realised that he had reached the door leading to his father's study. The faint light that could be seen between the door and the doorframe proved to him that his father was indeed still here and working – it appeared that quite a lot of paperwork had not been properly attended to while he had been gone. He smiled softly. It was yet another testament to his father's worry and distraction, a testament that, under normal circumstances, would have touched him deeply, because he knew perfectly well how meticulously his father saw to his duties. Right now, however, it only served to make him feel more miserable than he already was.   
  
Deciding that it wouldn't help anyone if he put this off any longer, he nodded at the guards flanking the door, receiving the by now customary radiant smiles in return, and raised his hand to knock. A moment later, his father's voice invited him to come in, and with a small intake of breath he opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit room.   
  
The golden haired elf sitting behind the desk that was piled with papers in an unusual display of mild chaos looked up at his entrance, and a large smile spread over his face as he saw who his late visitor was.   
"Legolas!"   
  
"_Ada_," the younger elf bowed his head. "Excuse me for disturbing you at this hour."   
  
Thranduil merely gave him a dark look and motioned for him to sit down in the armchair standing in front of the desk him which he did, obviously forcing his hands to be still. The golden haired elf raised a mocking eyebrow as he looked at the face of his son who seemed to be unwilling to look at him, a behaviour very unlike him.   
  
"If you have come to complain about Master Hithrawyn, you are too late; he beat you to it, I fear. He left a few minutes ago, swearing to tear you limb from limb should you ever come near his healing wing again." The elven king frowned slightly. "I believe, however, that he was not entirely serious."   
  
"He is overreacting, as usual," Legolas shrugged lightly, a smile lurking in his eyes. "I was merely visiting Strider before he released him earlier this morning, and he…"   
  
"Yes," his father nodded wryly. "Yes, he told me all about it." He quickly turned serious again and leaned back into his chair. Sometimes, now being one of these times, he still couldn't believe that his son was back home safe and sound, and the urge to take a length of sturdy rope and tie him to his own arm had only minutely diminished. "What is it, _ion nín_?"   
  
Legolas smiled ruefully; he had never been very adept at hiding things from his father. He doubted that it ever would, something which he was more than willing to live with. He looked into his father's concerned eyes and suddenly felt even more self-conscious and inconsiderate.   
"It's not important," he said quickly and was about to get up from his chair. "I can come back tomorrow morning and…"   
  
The older elf merely lifted a hand and pointed at the wooden chair, a stern expression on his face.   
"Sit." Legolas complied with another rueful smile, and Thranduil leaned forward a little, the concern in his eyes only growing. "What is it, Legolas? Ever since you returned, there has been something on your mind. What is troubling you?"   
  
The younger elf exhaled softly and finally raised his head.   
"Aragorn, the twins and Lord Glorfindel will be leaving tomorrow."   
  
"Yes," Thranduil nodded slowly. They had sent a carrier pigeon to Rivendell almost as soon as the six of them had ridden through the gates, but the twins and the others had still insisted on leaving as quickly as possible, something that Thranduil could understand only too well.   
  
"And," Legolas added hesitantly, "I wish to accompany them."   
  
The older elf didn't say a word, something that Legolas hadn't expected. He neither yelled at him nor did he start to laugh, both reactions the prince had been prepared for. He merely leaned back again, looking both puzzled and curious, but not disapproving.   
"Why?" he simply asked.   
  
"Well," Legolas began somewhat wryly, feeling slightly encouraged by the fact that his father hadn't ripped off his head yet, "There is the fact that everyone here is acting as if I would break if they weren't smiling at me."   
  
"Yes," the elven king nodded slowly, "I can see that that would pose a small nuisance."   
  
"And I haven't been to Rivendell for quite some time."   
  
"'Quite some time'?" Thranduil repeated. "You were there last autumn!"   
  
"Only for a few days," Legolas retorted quickly. "That hardly counts."   
  
"But neither the fact that everyone is happy to see you nor your desire to visit Imladris are why you want to leave, is that not correct?" the golden haired elf asked softly. "Why do you want to leave so badly?"   
  
"Oh, _ada_, I do not wish to get away from here!" Legolas exclaimed and shook his head. "I have never been so happy to be back home, I think!" He turned serious quickly and raised his chin to look his father in the eye. "Have you heard about Anardir?"   
  
"Yes," Thranduil nodded. "Hithrawyn released him some time ago. He is fully healed, at least physically. The last thing I have heard is that he wants to journey to the Havens and…" He interrupted himself in mid-sentence. "Oh, I see."   
  
"Indeed," Legolas nodded darkly. "He wants to leave tomorrow, before noon. His parents and sisters have already sailed, and since … Galalith's death there is no reason for him to remain here." Sadness stole over the elf's face and he looked at his father earnestly. "I tried to talk him out of it, _ada_, many, many times these past few days. He simply will not listen. He doesn't even blame me for what happened, but…"   
  
"…you do," his father finished his sentence. "Do you not?"   
  
"Yes," the fair haired prince admitted softly. "Yes, I do. They were _my _men, father, and I failed them. They were killed because of me! I shouldn't have ordered them to return to the palace, I should have sent them to Anondil's patrol instead. Who knows, maybe everything would have been different if I had."   
  
"And maybe it wouldn't have," Thranduil shook his head. "There is no point in questioning chance and fate, my son. It was not your fault; these men weren't even looking for you specifically. If you hadn't been there, they would have simply killed one of them and taken the other. Nothing would have changed."   
  
"We will never know now, will we?" the younger elf asked somewhat bitterly. "Galalith will never know, and neither will Anardir. I have thought about it," he added softly. "Many times, to be honest. What would I do if I were him? What would I do if Celylith or Aragorn or the twins died?"   
  
"You would not leave," the Elvenking shook his head firmly, more than a bit of hope mixed with the quiet conviction in his voice. "You have reasons to remain here. Family, friends, and a duty to the kingdom."   
  
"But he has that as well, father," Legolas shook his head. "Yes, his family may already dwell in the Blessed Realm, but he still has friends here. And a duty to protect what has been his home for all his life. And still he will leave." He paused for a moment before he looked at his father once more. "And I understand him, I really do. Last year, when we thought Celylith had died, I wanted to die as well. I would have faded or followed him over the Western Sea, I am sure about it."   
  
Thranduil didn't reply anything. He had always suspected that he had got close to losing his son to despair and grief last winter, but up until now he hadn't truly known just _how _close. His dark thoughts were interrupted when his son leaned forward in his chair, blue eyes boring into blue eyes.   
  
"I have to go," Legolas insisted. "I cannot stay here and look at all of Anardir's and Galalith's friends, not knowing whether or not I could have saved either or even both of them. We were not very close friends, no, but I have known both of them for a long time. I even trained with Anardir as an elfling! Every time I look at something now, at a tree we climbed when we were younger or one of the captains who used to teach us, I see Galalith lying bleeding in the snow. I need some time to think about all this, and I cannot do it here, with the grief and pain of their friends surrounding me like a dark cloud."   
  
"I see," the blond king said slowly. "And you think that in Rivendell the pain will go away?" He shook his head sadly, dark memories clouding his eyes. "Because it will not."   
  
"No," Legolas agreed softly. "It will not. I know that."   
  
For a few moments Thranduil merely looked at his son, unconsciously rubbing his brow with one of his hands as if to ease the pain that was developing behind his eyes. He had known that Legolas would take the young elf's death hard, but he hadn't known that he felt quite as guilty. He sighed inwardly as he watched the anxious and at the same time determined face of his only child. He didn't want to let him go anywhere for the next few _yéni_, especially not to Imladris where he and Elrond's sons got into almost as much trouble as they did here, and still…   
  
The elven king took a deep breath as he came to a decision. He knew that haunted look in his son's eyes; he had seen it many times in the eyes of many battle-hardened warriors. Legolas needed time and space and a peaceful environment to come to terms with Galalith's death, and if there was one place where you could find all three, it was Rivendell. As unhappy as he was to admit it, the Noldorin elf-haven was one of the most beautiful places of all Eriador, and also a lot safer than Mirkwood. Unless, he added wryly, you left it with a sign around your neck saying "Please shoot, poison, cut and generally maim me at your convenience", something that Legolas and his friends seemed to do rather often.   
  
"If you want to take Celylith with you, you will be sorely disappointed," he finally said evenly. "His father informed me that his son wouldn't be leaving Mirkwood again until … yes, I think his exact words were 'until Orodruin freezes over or he regains a small degree of maturity and responsibility'."   
  
"That could take some time," Legolas nodded calmly, before he seemed to freeze in his chair as he realised what his father was saying. "Does that mean that…?"   
  
"Yes," Thranduil nodded back, a small smile on his face. "You may go. I would ask you to be careful and not to get yourself and Lord Elrond's sons into any trouble if I had any hopes whatsoever that you would heed my words, which I do not."   
  
"That is hardly fair, father," Legolas shook his head with an offended expression on his face. "_They _get _me _ into trouble, not the other way round. I am perfectly innocent of all this."   
  
"This time, maybe," the older elf smiled. "Only maybe, of course."   
  
Legolas seemed to want to protest against his father's words, but then he smiled as well and shrugged lightly. A moment later he turned serious again and inclined his head.   
"Don't worry, _ada_, I will try to be careful. I just need some time away from here."   
  
"I know you do," the elven king nodded. "Go then and prepare for your journey. I am sure you will even manage to convince Hithrawyn to provide you with some healing utensils if you only tell him that you will be leaving tomorrow. He might even smile at you."   
  
"I wouldn't count on that," Legolas muttered softly under his breath, but got up from his chair. He had already reached the door and opened it when he looked back at his father, sincerity mixed with the sadness in his eyes. "Thank you, _ada_."   
  
"Whatever for?" Thranduil asked, apparently greatly surprised. "This is my revenge on Lord Elrond for persuading me to let Estel stay for the winter." He smiled evilly. "With interest."   
  
The humourous words couldn't hide the concern in the older elf's voice, and so Legolas merely gave his father a small bow and closed the door behind him.

  
  
Aragorn stifled a tired yawn, once again trying to tell himself just why it was a good, sensible and perfectly normal idea to leave Mirkwood in the morning – the very _early _morning.   
  
Well, he admitted to himself, there was the fact that, the sooner they left the sooner they would get back home. It was still too soon for their father's reply to arrive, but he didn't have to read Elrond's letter to know that the elf lord had been going out of his mind with worry these past weeks.   
  
Then, he added thoughtfully, there was also the fact that they wouldn't be seen by so many elves when they left now. He was sure that their departure would draw quite a bit attention, especially considering that Legolas had somehow managed to convince his father to let him accompany them. He wasn't sure how his elven friend had accomplished that amazing feat without losing one or more of his limbs, and he had been most surprised when Legolas had told him this morning in an annoyingly nonchalant way that he would be coming with them.   
  
He knew of course why Legolas was so keen to leave so soon after having got back to Mirkwood; no matter how much the elf tried to hide his thoughts from him, he always had at least a good idea of what he was thinking. The young man shook his head inwardly while he took up the last of his bags and left the room. Perhaps his father would be able to talk some sense into that insufferably stubborn elf.   
  
A few minutes of walking through rather deserted corridors Aragorn managed to locate the main staircase despite the twilight that still lay heavily over King Thranduil's halls and slowly began to walk down the stairs, forcing himself not to skip or do something equally undignified. Besides, it would be most ungrateful to show the Elves of Mirkwood that he was in fact very glad to leave the palace behind and to return to Rivendell.   
  
He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to the left, into the direction of the main courtyard. Even despite the fact that the sun had barely risen he was sure that there would be quite a few elves present to see them off. For example most of Hithrawyn's healers, a sarcastic voice inside his head whispered. When he had told the blond healer that they would be leaving today, he was sure that he had heard more than one elf whisper a fervent prayer of thanks. Aragorn smiled slightly. He wasn't even offended; he was as happy as they were that he would be troubling them no longer.   
  
Yes, he decided inwardly, most of the healers would come to make sure that he really left, which may be a bit excessive, but understandable nonetheless. Still, one mustn't forget that it had been Hithrawyn's decision to keep him in the healing wing for more than two days – and that only because the elven healer had feared that he might have contracted an illness or something like that!   
  
He was still inwardly ranting about Hithrawyn's inability (or unwillingness) to understand that he may be human but not made of crystal when he stepped outside, his eyes automatically fixing on the heavens as soon as he set foot outside of the building. It had – quite naturally, of course – stopped raining almost the exact moment they had arrived at the palace, and it would be just as natural if it started again the moment they left. To his unending surprise, however, it was not raining, even though to call the morning "beautiful" would have been stretching it quite a bit.   
  
He hadn't descended more than a few stairs, heading into the direction of the spot where his brothers and Glorfindel could be seen with their horses, when a tall figure stepped in front of him, blocking his path. With the long experience of a person who had grown up with elves who, as a people in general, delighted in startling anyone whose senses were not as keen as theirs, Aragorn came to a sudden stop and just narrowly avoided tumbling down the remaining stairs or bumping into the dark haired elf who had all but popped out of the ground in front of him.   
  
It took him a moment to fully regain his balance, but even if he wouldn't have had the time to take a closer look at the other being, he would have recognised him at once by the way the elf was standing in front of him, as still and unmoving as one of the statues that adorned such a large percentage of Mirkwood's gardens.   
  
"Erelas," he finally nodded at the other elf. "I did not know that you were so vengeful."   
  
"Ah, I wasn't," the warrior said with a small smile. "That means, I wasn't until you disappeared on me the night you left. Who taught you to move like that?"   
  
The man smiled back and began to resume his walk.   
"My brothers."   
  
"I should have known," Erelas shook his head slightly. "They were always keen to teach others their rather dubious … habits."   
  
"Indeed," Aragorn nodded with a broad smile.   
  
Before the ranger could say more Erelas stopped and, to his surprise, gave him a small bow.   
"Thank you," the elf said when he had righted himself. "Thank you for bringing the prince back. All of us owe you a great debt."   
  
"No, you don't," Aragorn shook his head. "If there is someone who owes anything to anyone, it is I. You risked much to help me, and without your help and the horse you provided, I would never have made it out of the palace."   
  
"Maybe. Maybe not," Erelas shrugged. "It is not important. The only thing that matters is that you found him. Thank you."   
  
"It was my pleasure," Aragorn smiled and inclined his head at the elf. He frowned as a thought struck him, and he added, "There is one other thing, Master Erelas. The horse…"   
  
"Did you have any trouble with it?" the dark haired elf asked, somewhat anxiously. "I am sorry, but it was the only one I could think of whose disappearance wouldn't attract any immediate attention. It is a bit mad, however."   
  
"I wouldn't necessarily use that term," Aragorn retorted cautiously. "I was just wondering if there was any way that I could persuade you to, well…"   
  
"If it agrees, it is yours, ranger," Erelas smiled, realising what the young man was hinting at. "It is one of my father's, and since he is on one of these diplomatic missions that usually take a few years, he will hardly miss it. Besides, I don't think that he has ever been exceptionally fond of it. As I said, it is a bit mad."   
  
"Are you sure?" Aragorn asked anxiously. "I don't want to rob your family of its horses."   
  
"Consider it a gift," the elf retorted with another smile. "I think the two of you will get along wonderfully."   
  
"You know," Aragorn wrinkled his brow and stopped, now only a few feet away from his brothers and Glorfindel who were talking animatedly with a couple of sentries, "I think a more suspicious person than I would have considered that remark an insult."   
  
"I couldn't imagine why," Erelas shrugged, a blank expression on his face.   
  
Aragorn shot him a dark look, once again not entirely certain whether or not the elf was joking, but before he could say anything, Celylith appeared next to Erelas. He, too, was moving so quietly that the man never heard his approach. It really wasn't his day, the ranger decided tiredly. At the rate his hearing was deteriorating, he would soon miss an orc horde if it stomped around their camp all night, singing battle songs.   
  
Erelas gave the silver haired captain a small bow and, with a last, grateful nod at Aragorn, retreated back into the direction of the main building. Aragorn was about to bid Celylith a good morning when he noticed the dark expression on his usually so merry face, and so he merely closed his mouth and waited for the elf to speak.   
  
He didn't have to wait long, because Celylith soon got tired of glaring at him and finally opened his mouth to speak, reproach still swirling in his eyes together with something that might have been worry or concern.   
"You put him up to this. Admit it."   
  
The man merely blinked in confusion.   
"I? Put whom up to what? What are you talking about, Celylith?"   
  
"Don't pretend you don't know of what I speak, _ dúnadan_," the elf all but growled. "You convinced Legolas to accompany you."   
  
"I did not," Aragorn shook his head, slowly beginning to understand just why the Silvan elf was so upset. He – along with most of the rest of Mirkwood, he assumed – had heard about the fact that Celylith's father had found an assignment that would keep him in Mirkwood for a few years, and he began to see the source of the elf's unhappiness. "Truly, I did not. I had no idea that he was even thinking about it until he told me earlier today."   
  
Celylith sighed and ran his left hand through his hair, nearly undoing one of his braids with the hasty movement.   
"I hate it when he does that," he complained quietly. "Just who will be looking after him?"   
  
"We will."   
  
"Don't make me laugh, Estel," the silver haired elf shook his head. "You, your brothers and he will get yourselves cut into pieces faster than you can say 'Look after yourself', and you know it perfectly well, too."   
  
"You could always try to convince your father to…"   
  
"I tried," Celylith interrupted the man's sentence. "Trust me, I tried. I don't think he is even listening to me. No," he shook his head, "unless I want to disobey a direct order from him and the king, _ again_, I will have to remain here."   
  
"Don't worry," Aragorn tried to console the half-furious and half-disappointed elf in front of him. "In a few weeks everything will have calmed down and you will find a way to pay us a visit. I am sure I can persuade my father to ask King Thranduil for some maps or despatches he will need urgently." The man gave his elven friend a small grin. "Someone will have to deliver them, won't they?"   
  
"Yes," Celylith answered gloomily, but followed Aragorn over to the three Rivendell elves. "And I am sure my father will find the perfect candidate for that job – and believe me, that candidate will not be me."   
  
Aragorn laughed and told him to try and be a bit more positive, something that earned him a scathing look that would nearly have set his hair ablaze. They closed the distance between them and the small group of elves that had gathered around the twins and Glorfindel, and had just greeted each other when two more elves entered the courtyard, both of which Aragorn recognised immediately.   
  
On first glance, they looked much alike, tall and with blond hair, but that impression did not last long as the two elves came closer. Aragorn sighed as he looked at Legolas and the other elf. The two of them were slowly walking into their direction, their horses trailing behind them. Both animals were already loaded with packs and provisions, but while Rashwe looked his usual, evil self, the other elf's horse looked dispirited and sad.   
  
Aragorn sighed again, this time a little louder. Legolas and Anardir didn't look much happier either, even though there was an almost content air surrounding the golden haired warrior that Legolas lacked completely. Hithrawyn had been right, Aragorn realised. Anardir may have been healed in body, but there had been nothing that could have been done for his spirit. The decision to leave these shores came not easily to most Silvan elves, but for Anardir it seemed to have been easy after what happened.   
  
The two elves walked past the small group of people gathered around Aragorn and the others, paying them no heed. The man shared a quick look with his brothers and turned back to Celylith, grasping his left hand. The silver haired elf merely smiled at him and nodded, and a few quietly spoken words of farewell later Aragorn, the twins and Glorfindel followed the two elves, making their way past the guards and through the gates. They stopped just in front of the large stone doors when they saw that Legolas and Anardir had stopped as well, some sixty feet in front of them.   
  
Legolas didn't seem to notice that the three elves and the human had followed them, so concentrated was he on the emotionless face of the elf next to him. He only realised that they had left the courtyard behind when they stopped, and he reached out and grasped the golden haired elf's arm, a pleading expression in his eyes.   
"It is not too late yet, my friend. Don't do this, please."   
  
Anardir slowly turned to look at him, an almost amused expression on his face.   
"You are talking as if I went into certain doom, my lord. I am merely walking a path so many of our people have taken already."   
  
"You don't have to leave," Legolas shook his head stubbornly. "Ever since we met you told me how much you love these lands. Do you want to leave our home already, now before the time has come?"   
  
"My time _has _come," Anardir stressed quietly. "I have loved these lands, you are right, my friend. But where I used to see beauty, I see pain and darkness. The trees I have loved my entire life seem sinister and forbidding, and our home is empty and cheerless. It is as if light and all colours have drained from the world. There is nothing for me here, not anymore."   
  
"You are wrong," the elven prince shook his head once more. "Your friends are here for you, and we always will be. That is the grief talking, Anardir, not you. Wait a few years, and you will begin to heal."   
  
"Maybe," the other elf nodded calmly, the despair and emptiness that was filling his eyes lessening a bit for a moment. "I thank you for your words, my lord, but you do not understand. Galalith is dead. He will not be coming back, not now and not in a few years. I watched him die, I held him in my arms as he bled to death and there was nothing I could do, nothing at all. I cannot stay here."   
  
"He wouldn't have wanted you to follow him, Anardir," Legolas said insistently. "He wouldn't have wanted you to leave as well."   
  
"No." A ghost of a smile appeared on the blond elf's face. "He did not. He made me swear that I wouldn't follow him." He looked up, firm determination in his eyes. "And I will honour that promise. I will not follow him to the Halls of Mandos, but I will wait in Valinor until Námo sees it fit to release him from his dwelling. And when that finally happens, I will be there to welcome him back."   
  
"That may not happen for many years, maybe even ages to come," Legolas said gently. "You do not have to go now, Anardir."   
  
"Yes," Anardir nodded his head, "Yes, I do. They are calling to me, Legolas. I cannot refuse them any longer."   
  
"Who is, my friend?" the fair haired prince asked, obviously confused. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"The gulls, my prince," the other elf explained with a far-away look in his eyes, as if he could hear the birds right now. "They are calling to me, day and night. I have to go."   
  
"Anardir," Legolas began carefully, "You have never before heard the cry of a gull, my friend. You have never been to the Sea."   
  
"And yet they are calling to me … curious, is it not?"   
  
"Anardir…"   
  
"Just let me go," the golden haired elf begged softly. "I do not wish to go with your disapproval, my lord, even though I will if I have to. I know you do not understand, at least not yet, but I cannot stay here, and nothing you or anyone else can say will change anything."   
  
Legolas closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again all defiance seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a deep, all-encompassing sadness.   
  
"No," he shook his head, "I do not understand, but that doesn't matter. I wish you wouldn't go, but…" He trailed off and grasped the other's hand again with a small, forced smile. "Safe journey, my friend. I will see you again."   
  
"Yes," Anardir nodded, obviously relieved. "You will, my lord." He gave the sky a quick look and turned to his horse, mounting it quickly. "I have to leave now. It is a long journey, and I wish to reach the Pass of Caradhras before the goblins realise that spring is arriving and leave their holes."   
  
"At least accompany us to Rivendell," Legolas tried a last time. "You can travel to the Grey Havens from there. It will be much quicker, and safer."   
  
Anardir smiled softly, the far-away expression in his eyes intensifying again.   
"Thank you, my prince, but I wish to make this journey alone. Besides, I have never before laid eyes on the fair woods of Lothlórien, and I would like to do so before I leave."   
  
Legolas bowed his head and finally nodded.   
"I understand."   
  
Anardir nodded back and was about to turn his horse around when he seemed to remember something, and he reached out and placed a hand on his prince's shoulder, causing him to look up at him.   
"There is one last thing, my lord," he said softly. "Before he … died, Galalith asked me to relay two messages for him."   
  
"Anardir, please," Legolas shook his head. "I do not think…"   
  
"One," Anardir went on, undeterred by the tormented expression on the other's face, "was for his parents, speaking of his love for them, and the other was for you." He blinked quickly to get rid of the tears that appeared in his eyes at the memory. "He asked me to tell you that he did not regret his choice and that he died gladly if it meant that he could save you."   
  
Legolas merely shook his head wordlessly, bright tears glistening in his eyes as well now, and Anardir tightened his grip on his shoulder.   
  
"My lord." Legolas didn't react, and so he said softly, „Legolas." The elven prince slowly looked up to meet his serious eyes. "He died for you, Legolas. Not for your title, not for your rank, but for _you_. He didn't ask me to relay that message to his lord or his prince, he asked me to relay it to his friend. He made a choice, and he did not regret it, not even in the end."   
  
The fair haired prince swallowed thickly and nodded, apparently not trusting his voice sufficiently to speak, and so Anardir smiled again and squeezed the other elf's shoulder.   
"Now I have said everything there is to say, I think, and kept all the promises I gave him. I bid you farewell, my friend," he bowed to Legolas. "We will see each other again, one day, in the Blessed Realm where none of this pain will matter."   
  
"Yes," Legolas nodded, his eyes still gleaming brightly. "We will, one day. Good-bye, Anardir."   
  
"Good-bye, Legolas," the other elf simply said, and a moment later he had turned his horse and spurred it on. It did not take long for him to disappear in the distance, but even after he had long passed out of sight Legolas remained where he was, staring after the golden haired elf with a blank expression on his face.   
  
The elven prince was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't realise Aragorn was standing next to him until the man softly touched his arm, and so he nearly would have jumped as Aragorn's fingers wrapped themselves around his forearm.   
"Legolas?"   
  
The elf's head turned sharply to the right, but he relaxed quickly when he saw who had approached him without him even realising.   
"Estel," he acknowledged the other's presence.   
  
"Come, my friend," Aragorn told him gently. "We need to leave. I doubt my father will be pleased if we delay our arrival even more."   
  
Legolas didn't even seem to have heard his words, for he only turned back to the spot where Anardir had stood not too long ago, sadness and despair warring on his face.   
"Why, Aragorn?" he simply asked. "Why did he have to go?"   
  
"I don't know, _mellon nín_," Aragorn told the elf, a dark, sad undertone in his voice. He had asked himself the same thing many times in the past, had asked himself why the people he considered his family would leave him one day to pass into the West, and no matter how much he had thought about it, he hadn't found an answer. "I really don't know."   
  
"Where is the justice in this?" Legolas asked tonelessly. "They had nothing to do with all this; they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
  
"The men responsible for this have paid, Legolas," Aragorn tried to console his elven friend. "Girion is dead, and so are Reran and Teonvan and all the others. They will never hurt or kill anyone else again, we have made sure of that, my friend, _you _have made sure of that. The battle is over. They are dead, and we are alive, that is all that matters in the end. You cannot change the past, no matter how much you wish it sometimes."   
  
Legolas merely looked at him, his eyes dark and sad in his face.   
"If the battle is over," he said softly, almost in a whisper, "then why do I have the feeling that I have won a battle only to lose the war?"   
  
Aragorn returned the look, the same sadness he saw in his friend's eyes growing in his heart. Realising that there was nothing he could possibly tell the elf to answer his question, he reached out and placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder.   
"Come, my friend. Let's go."   
  
Legolas slowly turned his head to look at his human friend, the sadness on his face slowly lessening as he saw the hesitant smile on the man's lips. He felt his own mouth twist into an answering smile even despite the pain and sadness in his heart, and a bit of the heavy weight that had been pressing down on him for the past weeks seemed to fall off his shoulders.   
  
He turned around to give the path Anardir had taken a last, long look before he grasped the ranger's hand that lay on his shoulder, and together they walked back the way they had come.   
  
  
  
  
  
**The End**  
  
  
  
  
  
_pen-neth - young one  
mellon nín - my friend  
edain - humans, men  
ada - father (daddy)  
ion nín - my son  
yéni (pl. of yen) - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years  
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger  
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**Well, I hope the ending wasn't TOO depressing. I just didn't want it to be too cheerful; I was really sick of all those "Happy" Happy Ends, if you see what I mean. And good guys are killed too, that happens from time to time. shrugs Other than that, I know that there are loads of question I left unanswered (most likely because I'm evil): Has Asfaloth forgiven Glorfindel? Will Rashwe kill the twins on the journey? What will Elrond say once they get back to Imladris (I mean, IF they get back to Imladris evil grin)? Will they celebrate Estel's birthday once they're there? Will Celylith ever escape his father's clutches to get himself into trouble once more? All these questions and probably a lot of more which I forgot to mention will be answered in the next story - just a little incentive for you to read that one as well! g  
  
  
  
Well, now once again to thank a few people:  
  
First, my sister and Jack, for coming up with sadistic, horrible things to do to various elves/rangers/innocent bystanders. I would like to state here and now that it's not ALL my fault, and that they are at least as evil as I am. nods head Most definitely.  
  
Second, all those lovely, wonderful people who asked me to write this story in the first place. It's amazing how much emails saying "Start posting already, woman!" help! Thanks a lot!  
  
Third, the Coca Cola Company for inventing something as wonderful and devious as Diet Coke with Lemon. I am now officially addicted to that stuff, and it has been brought to my attention that I have consumed approximately 272,25 litres of it while writing this story (about 8,25 a chapter). I'm mad, I know. g  
  
And, again, last but not least, all my lovely reviewers! I am not only addicted to Diet Coke, I am also addicted to reviews! I can still not believe how many I got! (rubs eyes incredulously) I loved every single one of them, and your great ideas and - sometimes evil - suggestions really helped me, especially when I got stuck somewhere. I have now even more plot bunnies than before, which I thought hardly possible, and have had to get a second cage in which to keep those vicious little beasts, but it was well worth it. All your reviews were helpful, funny and at times insane - so they continuously made my day! Thank you all VERY, VERY MUCH!!! huggles all reviewers  
  
  
So, well, this is it, I guess. I hope you enjoyed this little story more than most of the characters - they are weird, aren't they? I most certainly enjoyed writing it!  
  
I would love to hear what you think of this story now that it is finished (which is really just another way of saying "Review, please!" g), it's always very helpful if people point out what they liked or didn't like. Okay, so I guess I'll see all of you in two months or so (or even earlier if you count the other little story) when I'll start posting "A **** Sea of Troubles", story number - let me think - five. Or six, depends on how you see it. Anyway, it will take place mainly in Rivendell, Celylith might be able to join them after some time, and they won't get into any trouble at all. The title is misleading, really. broad, insincere grin  
  
  
  
Nili**

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Additional A/N:  
  
LOTRFaith** - You can't have him because I say so. I might need him later, and I would like to keep him in an un-squished condition. g And I doubt that they would call it fun - even though Thesieni might. g Glad that the chapter made you happy - but I really think that it's rather frightening that you enjoy watching elves and men bleed. We'll have a bit of Thranduil's reaction later on, even though there won't be any Elrond in this story, sorry. g  
**Deana** - Ah yes, I guess you could say that everyone's hurt. thinks about it I think that's rather accurate. g And I can see that you worry for Legolas. It ... well, kinda showed. g We won't have so many recovering scenes, sorry, I simply didn't have any time to put many of them into this. sheepish smile  
**Nightmares-Hell** - Well, yes, everything must come to an end. Even insane, mad little stories like this one. g It's very nice to hear that you enjoyed it even despite its weirdness, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Aratfeniel** - Healers always make the worst patients, yes! No wonder that Aragorn didn't "realise" that he needed a healer... LOL, yes, Aragorn and Legolas ARE incredibly lucky. If they weren't, they would have died a long time ago. Painful, horrible deaths, at that. g Poor them. evil grin  
**AngelMouse5** - blushes So you liked the fight, huh? Thanks, that's great to hear, it's always a bit tricky to write them. I am eternally concerned that I might overdo it. I'm also glad that you liked the Glorfindel scene, it somehow refused to be written. shrugs Happens. There won't be any Elrond in this chapter I'm afraid. He'll be in the next story, I swear. I am beginning to miss him myself. g  
**Elvendancer** - winces You were reading the chapter while your sister was opening her presents? You know, if I were her, I would be rather cross with you now... Then again, I'm evil. g Well, you certainly seem to have problems with cars yourselves! And I thought I was bad off! I am very relieved to hear that you don't have any relationship whatsoever with our Chancellor - it would really have freaked me out if you did. Really, really freaked me out. g  
**CSI3** - Yeah, well, only one chapter left, I'm sorry. I couldn't convince the characters to stay put anymore; they keep trying to escape. I figured I'd end this before they got away for good. g Great you liked the last chapter though, I hope you'll like this one as well!  
**Firnsarnien** - LOL, well, I hope I neither stopped your heart nor caused you to bite your nails too much! I thought about ripping Glamir's skin from his flesh, but it would have taken too long. g But I like the idea with the ox, too. Very ... creative. Yes, that's a nice, neutral word for it. g I am glad you approve of Celylith's condition though. I am indeed a bit cautious whenever the CLF is concerned - after all, you guys ARE vicious... Oh, and there will be a sequel, most definitely, but it won't be about Sangwar and Co. I doubt I'll ever use them again, but I might. Who knows. Thanks very very much for all your reviews! huggles  
**TrustingFriendship** - Yeah, you're right, they would have deserved to die a lot more slowly. But since I'm not a heartless or cruel person... stop laughing! glared darkly Well, it would have taken too much time, I admit it. g  
**Bookworm, .303** - LOL, I don't think that they can think in a relatively normal manner at all! I am glad to hear that you liked the story, and yes, I am planning a sequel. Don't cry, please. g  
**Strider's Girl** - All good things come to an end sometime, I'm afraid. Besides, I really have to end it now - I am getting threatening letters from Elrond and Thranduil, and also from Celythramir. They are not too pleased with me at the moment... g Good luck with your exams - and believe me, you don't want me to sit them for you! I could do Latin, Greek, History and maybe German, but other than that... Nah, believe me, it's better this way. huggles Good luck!  
**Crippled Raven** - Yes, she's fine. I've never been in a car accident, and I really hope I won't be either. They would take my license faster than you could say "But it's not my fault!" g Great to hear that you liked the fight scenes, and I put the humour in there because ... well, I guess it's because I can't keep my mouth shut. these things just pop into my head, there's nothign I can do, really... g LOL, yes, you could say that killing Girion was a consolation prize, at least kind of. Sound a bit evil though. g I love Robin Hood too. I loved Morgan Freeman - Azeem was his name, I think. shrugs I can't remember, it's been AGES since I've last seen it. And I know what you mean, about needing time to wake up. I have the same problem. huggles Thanks for all your long reviews!  
- Interesting name, really! g You must be the only person I know who hates holidays, btw. But if I had no internet during the holidays, I just might come to dislike them too. Your car has a hole in the door? Well, that's not very nice either! Our car is a total loss. Good thing we're insured. g Well, I hope you'll enjoy this last chapter as well, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Sadie Elfgirl** - Well, to describe their condition as "fine and dandy" just might stretch it a bit, but I guess you're right. They're all alive, so they really shouldn't complain. g LOL, I can just imagine Glorfindel and his Things a proper Elf Lord never does - list. A bit like the Rules of Acquisition in Star Trek... g I don't really know if there are so many fluffy moments in here, but I think so. At least a few. g But I DO know that Thranduil will be making an appearance, so that's something I guess. g  
**Bailey** - Uhm, yes, it means that you have to wait for the next chapter. I am very sorry about that. Well, at least a bit sorry. evil grin I couldn't agree with you more, btw: Aragorn is exceedingly stupid. Ah well, it's not his fault, I think. g It's all in the genes.  
**LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel** - I know Kent. Kent is really lovely. I love Canterbury, it's a lovely town. And Sandwich is nice too. giggles I still snicker when I see that name. Don't tell me, I know I'm silly. g I'm sorry I didn't get this out early - do you really want to ask your father to print this? I mean, here on my computer it's 627 pages - and that's with A/N and all that. Your poor printer. g   
**Falling Star** - LOL, it's nice to hear that you liked that line. I laughed myself when I wrote it. Okay, so I didn't laugh, but I snickered, or at least grinned broadly. pats her back Now, now, don't cry. Yes, this story will be over after this chapter, and I won't have time to start the next one, and it won't be here before mid-August or something, but... Falling Star starts to sob What? What did I say? g No, j/k. I'm sure you'll manage. g  
**Chip** - Ah, so Dale is your alter ego. I have one of them myself, now I understand what you mean. They can be quite annoying - but one wouldn't want to live without them, right? Hmm, so you like black? I don't like pink either, but I don't like black too much. Red is great, and blue and dark green. shrugs I'm really into colours this year, huh? g And your reason for reviewing twice is a very nice one indeed! Go on! g And I like Metallica too. Most of the time, it really depends on my mood. But I have to admit that your idea about Legolas and the others is rather ... interesting. Mad, but interesting. g  
**Alariel** - Well, yes, I had to allow Glorfindel to have a little conversation with one of the bad guys. He had really been depressed, and had even started crying once or twice. shrugs I couldn't stand it. Yes, Celylith would LOVE to have a dragon, I think. He's mad, after all. g  
**Marbienl** - July 13th was your birthday, wasn't it? I seem to remember something like that... So, if everything goes accroding to plan (which it never does), I'll be able to post the first chapter of that story on your birthday. So, touch wood! And I always try not to make everything too black and white. I didn't want the townspeople to be too good. Would have been boring. g LOL, I don't think that there were mosquitoes in this part of ME - otherwise Aragorn and Legolas would have contracted Malaria a long time ago... g I don't know if Wilwarin will return in the next story (or at all, that is) but I haven't abandoned the idea completely yet. So there is still hope! g So, thank you very much for all your (weird) reviews! huggles  
**Celebdil-galad Tinlaure** - Yes, Legolas will have some trouble with Celylith, no doubt about that. Poor elf prince. g And don't worry, everything will be nice and peaceful - for this chapter, that is. I am not saying anything about the next story... g  
**Shauna** - Don't be sad. The next story will be here before you know it - in about 1 1/2 or 2 months, that is. evil grin See? It's not so bad. And I hope you didn't really die. I would hate to kill one of my reviewers like that. g And don't worry: The last chapter IS horribly long.   
**Kathleen LaCorneille** - Yeah, you're right, they DID miss quite a bit. Poor twins. I must assure you that I am not joking, however. I couldn't go on and on and on and on, could I? It's better to end this now while it's still somewhat interesting. nods I am sorry though, 'cause we won't see so much about the birthday per se. I guess they will celebrate it properly once they get back to Rivendell. Oh, and it's perfectly alright that you wanted to see Glamir dead. I wasn't all that fond of him myself. g And I don't speak a word of French (well, other than Merci and all that really obvious stuff) since I learned Greek in school instead, but I think what you wanted to say is 'well done'. Well, thank you! g I hope your exams will go well! huggles And I'm very sorry for not updating sooner, really! It was just not possible. I hope the waiting won't kill you, I really do! I'm sure you'll manage. reassuring smile  
**Iccle Fairy** - Well, as long as you liked the ending, I don't care if you loved or hated it. g I am glad you refrained from sending me a rude email with dwarven insults, btw. It's always a bit disconcerting. g Don't be too sad, btw - the next story is coming soon! "Soon" being a relative term... evil grin  
**CrazyLOTRfan** - I am sorry for upsetting you. At least a bit, really. I may be evil, but I'm not completely heartless, after all. g LOL, I am sure Caellan would be happy about that award of yours. No kidding, I'm sure he'd really be happy, stupid as he was. g Congrats! No more braces! I never had a fixed pair or whatever you may call them, something for which I was very grateful. Thank you so very much for all your reviews! You are most definitely my insanest Canadian reviewer! huggles  
**SeventhSpanishAngel12** - Don't hurt your computer. It's most likely FF.net's fault. No, I don't know that for sure, but it's usually their fault. They hate me, you know - and everyone else, I think. g You're right, of course, Thranduil will be far too happy to have them back to yell at them. That doesn't mean that Elrond won't be upset - but that's a story for another day. Or rather, another story. g   
**Tychen** - Well, it might be wrong to express satisfaction about their death, but understandable nontheless, I think. I didn't like them myself, and that means quite a lot, considering I created them. g You're right, Elrond won't be very pleased if they get back home. Thankfully that won't be in the next story. ducks sharp objects You're not so thankful, I take it? Why ever not? g You guys are really weird sometimes...  
**Grumpy** - LOL, thanks! Glad you liked "the death by candlestick". g There's another little Estel-Glorfindel scene in here; I hope you'll like it as well. I think people write far too few scenes about those two. huggles them Poor them.  
**Crystal-Rose15** - Finally! If I say that, most people just look at me and say something about how blue Frodo's eyes are. I mean, so what?! He doesn't have a neck! smiles sheepishly I never liked him all that much, not even in the books. And I'm completely sure that you'll survive. It is, after all, only a story, isn't it? g Yes, that's from Monty Python - you have to love them! I LOVE the Ministry of Silly Walks! giggles I hope you got your laundry before it flew away, and thanks a lot for all your reviews!  
**Jazmin3 Firewing** - nods carefully Yes, they're all dead. Quite so, actually. Hmm, you'll see what happens to Laenro, and it's nice to see that someone likes Halyo. I like him too, so that's two of us. g You like a guy? Well, mate, that happens to all of us! Most girls and even some boys. g I am just waiting for the day my sister's gay friend and she will be interested in the same boy - that should be interesting! blinks Okay, that was totally off-topic. Sorry. g I didn't actually see Venus, it happened at 5 am or something like that, and that's definitely too early for me. Besides, I'm not that interested in planets. g Not even Venus.  
**Alasse Tiwele** - I really thought it was obvious that Súliat was Saruman. I'm sorry if it didn't become clear until now, but come on, how many powerful lords that begin with "S" can there be in this part of ME? Not all that many, I'd reckon... And I meant that all the main bad guys were dead. Sangwar and Halyo aren't exactly key characters, besides, I like them. g   
**Suzi9** - LOL, yes, I can see that you signed in. Well done! huggles Great to see you! I was really beginning to miss you - I thought you had lost interest or had been buried under papers and college work... I'm very flattered that you're planning to annoy me, btw. Thanks a lot! I feel very loved indeed. g Dammit, I really missed nameless bad guys 1, 78 and 17? I knew there was something I had missed... Thanks for telling me. takes up large sword If you'll excuse me for a moment... screams of pain can be heard Okay, thanks for waiting. Got them. I am not planning to kill Cendan after all, but would be extremely grateful for a few Gaelic curses. I have only seen a few names and words, and I think it's a very beautiful language. Not quite as beautiful as Ancient Greek, but a close second. WAY prettier than English - or German, for that matter, but that isn't too hard. g blinks I ... see. Mittens. Whatever you say, mate. g Oh, and I never said I was sociable. I am in fact misanthropist, I think it's because I study History. All that changes are the names and means of destruction, that's all. shakes head sadly Well, thanks for the stars and the cookies, and thanks VERY MUCH for all your (insane) reviews! huggles Take care!  
**Cosmic Castaway** - Uhm, I didn't get it. Thanks for explaining, but I still don't get it since I haven't seen Princess Bride - was it a movie? I have heard about it, I think. That's something, right? g I did indeed like your grenade. It was very nice and round and shiny - until it exploded, that is of course... g It's nice to hear that you liked the story so much, thanks a lot! So you're The Voice, huh? Just what medication are you on? g  
**Karone Evertree** - Yeah, Thesieni is indeed a little bit like Hithrawyn. Not quite as close to madness, but I'm sure that would change if Legolas and Co. would only stay a while longer. g And I think too that we should give the twins the benefit of the doubt. They most likely did realise that they missed something. g  
**Iverson** - Hey! You! I know you! Great to see you! huggles I missed you, I really did. It's very nice to 'see' you again. And with so many nice compliments in tow, too! Thanks! blushes But there wasn't THAT much violence in here! Uhm, yes, well, maybe there was... sheepish smile You're right, I will probably miss Teonvan - a little bit, that is. Not much, because he really WAS evil. It's very nice to hear that you're still enjoying this, thanks a lot for the review!  
**Galadhriel Vornionien** - Yes, don't worry, you will discover the fate of the poor Anardir. I can't guarantee that you will like it though... But I didn't forget about him, never fear. (Anardir: Oh, isn't that nice? sarcasm) There will really be only this one chapter, I hope I managed to wrap everything (or most of it) up to your satisfaction! And you may of course borrow Celylith if you want to. Just put him in the disclaimer, then you can do whatever you want with him. Uhm, that didn't really come out right. I meant that you can use him in whichever way you want as long as you don't kill him. blushes Just ignore me, will you? Sorry for not updating soone, as I said: I was busy. Or locked out. Or both. g  
**Zinnith** - So it was ch. 10, huh? Anyway, great to 'see' you again! huggles It's nice to know that you still like it. I thought you had despaired of my insane little story - which wouldn't have surprised me at all. g I agree with you though: It's a crime that they cut Glorfindel out of the movies - not to mention the twins. Sometimes I really hate PJ... It's nice to hear that you like Oswald Spalding. He's adorable, isn't he? huggles ox And I think you're right: Even if you took Aragorn's sword and knives and all that, he'd still find a way to get hurt. He's hopeless, that one... shakes head sadly LOL, a gerbil, huh? Well, I'll ask him - I'm sure he'd be interested. I don't think I have ever seen a gerbil, but I don't think they would get along with our cats. Otherwise I would take one myself... g  
**Lady Lunas** - blushes Well, thank you! It's the most flattering compliment I can think of, thanks a lot! It's great to hear that you've been enjoying my "series" - if you can call it a series. I am sorry though; Elrond won't be in this story. There was really no way I could have put him into this chapter, but I promise he'll be in the next story - naturally, since it will be taking place in Rivendell. g Once again, thanks a lot for the review! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well!  
**Isadora2** - Ah ja. Das ist doch mal wieder typisch. Sich Ewigkeiten nicht melden, sich in London einen faulen Lenz machen, leckere Sachen wie Mint Sauce oder Bovril haufenweise verschlingen, und dann auch noch Ansprueche stellen?? Also WIRKLICH!! g Keine Angst, j/k. Nett, dich mal wieder zu sehen, auch wenn du ganz leicht aufgeregt zu sein scheinst. fieses Grinsen Warum nur, wundere ich mich... g Keine Angst, hier ist das letzt Kapitel, suesse Traeume!  
  
**I know this is getting old, but thanks a lot for all your reviews! They really cheered me up, amused and helped me to no end! Thank you very, very much! huggles all reviewers**


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